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398 (Educational, NATIONAL CONVENTION OF THE FRIENDS OF COMMON SCHOOLS. The undersigned, deeming that the great cause of Popular Education in the United States may be advanced, and the exertions of its friends strengthened and systematized, by mutual consultation and deliberation, re spectfully request the friends of Common Schools, and of Universal Education.through out the Union, to meet in Convention, at the city of Philadelphia, on Wednesday, the 22d day of August next, at 10 o'clock, A. M.j for the promotion of this paramount'interest of our Republican Institutions. We have only room for the following influ ential names, from among the large number of warm friends of Popular Education, who have signified their acquiescence in this call. Rt. Rev. Alonzo -Potter, D. D., Philadel phia. George M. Wharton, Esq., President of Board of Controllers of Public Schools, Cos. of Philadelphia. Hon. Joseph R. Chandler, President of Board of Directors of Girard College, Phila delphia. John S. Hart, A. M., President Central High School, Philadelphia. Alfred E. Wright, Editor of “Wright’s Casket” and “Paper,” Philadelphia. Asa D. Lord, Esq., Editor of Ohio School Journal. D. L. Swain, A. M., President of the Uni versity of North Carolina. Prof. J. H. Ingraham, Nashville, Tenn. Judge E. Lane, Sandusky, Ohio. A. Church, D. D., President of University, Athens, Georgia. Robert J. Breckenridge, D. D., Superin tendent of Public Schools, Kentucky. Hon. Horace Mann, for 12 years Secretary of Board of Education, Mass.’ Dr. T. F. King, State Superintendent of # Public Schools of New Jersey. H. B. Underhill, Principal Natchez Insti tute, Miss. James L. Enos, Editor of North Western Educator, Chicago, 111. Edward Cooper, Esq., Editor of District School Journal, Albany, N. Y. Philip Lindsey, D. D., President of Univer sity of Nashville A. D. Bache, LL. D., Sup’t of U. S. Coast Survey, Washington. 11. W. Heath,’ LL. D., Maryland College of Teachers. Local Committee of Arrangements. The following named gentlemen have con sented to act as a Committee of Arrangement, for the “National Common School Conven tion Hon. Joseph R. Chandler, Chairman. Alfred E. Wright, Cor. Secretary. James J. Barclay, William Martin, George Emlen, jr., John Miller, Daniel M. Fox, Mordecai L. Dawson, Joseph Cowperthwait, S. S 4 Randall, Edward C. Biddle, J. Engle Negus. State Common School Conventions. The Committee of Arrangements for the National Common School Convention, which is to assemble in Philadelphia on the 22d of August next, beg leave, respectfully and ear nestly, to recommend to the friends of Com mon School Education in the several States of the Union, to assemble in State Convention, at their respective capitals, or at some central location, on or before the FOURTH DAY OF JULY next, for the purpose of appoiniing delegates to the National Convention, and transacting such other business in reference to the interests of Common School Education within their borders, as may be deemed expe dient. It is desirable that the number of delegates from each State be at least equal to its representation in Congress, and that a full delegation should, as far as may be practica ble, be secured. State or Local Conventions of Teachers, Superintend- .its, or other assem blages of the friends of education, arealso re spectfully requested to appoint delegates to the proposed National Convention. Editors and publishers of newspapers throughout the Union, are earnestly requested to publish this notice, together with the no tice recommending the National Common School Convention. By order of the Committee. JOSEPH R. CHANDLER, Chairman. A. E. Wright, Cor. Sec. Man’s High Prerogative.— lt is the ex pressive remark of a German philosopher, ‘I would not be a woman, for then I could not lover her.’ g® ©MU IE El Ob alf ®&a& WB ♦ ©limpera of Ntm Books. ARREST OF THE DUC DE BIRON. [From “ The Palaccof Fontainebleau,” translated from the “Musee des Familcs,” for the Living Age, by Anne T. Wilbur ] The most intimate friend of Henry IV., i next to Sully, was the Due de Biron. The King had made him, at the age of forty, Marshal of France and Governor of Burgun “He is a brave man,” said he, “ whom I can present to my friends and my enemies.” Now, one day at Fontainebleau, a man en teied the presence of Henry, and submitted to him proofs that Biron was plotting to deliver France to Spain, and the rights of the dau phin to the son of the Marquise de Verneuil. These proofs’ were letters from the hand of : the marshal, and his original treaty with the j Duke of Savoy. There remained no possi- j bility of doubt! The good King swooned with grief, and summoned Biron to Fontainebleau. The ! Duke arrived wrapped up in his pride, and persuaded that no one knew his secret. In vain his sister exclaimed : “If you go further, you are ruined !” lie replied, like Le Balafre to the States of 1 Blots: “They dare not!” And he entered, with lofty brow, the pre sence of the King. Henry embraced him, took him by the hand, led him through his new buildings, and told him, in private, that he had received un pleasant information respecting him, but that a full pardon would be the result of a sin cere avowal. “ Not having offended, I desire no pardon !” cried the marshal. The man who had betrayed him, and who wished him to persevere iif his denial, had whispered to him : * “ Good courage and a good face, my mas ter; they know nothing!” Henry returned to the charge. He spoke to Biron as a friend—as a father. He re minded him that they had slept side by side on the battle-fields. He opened his heart to him, and adjured him to open his own in re turn. “ I know all,” said he at last, pressing him in his arms. “ Speak, and I will in stantly forget it; I entreat you as a brother. No one but myself shall know of it.” The Duke believed himself exposed to a snare, and remained impassable. The more the King’s earnestness increased, the more increased his boldness. He broke out intef bitter reproaches, and demanded the names of his accusers. “ I will leave him this day for reflection, and this night to ask counsel,” said the Bear nais to himself. In the evening, he found him at tennis, and gayly played against him. “ Marshal!” cried Epernon to him, “ you play well, but your adversary will beat ” All eyes, and especially the eyes of the King, were turned upon Biron. He did not understand the allusion, or feigned not to un ! derstand it. Rosny de Sully and the Comte de Soissons ’ made an attempt, and succeeded no better. I Henry retired and rose at daybreak. He j summoned the marshal into the little garden, near the aviary. They were seen from a ’ distance to talk together some time. The i guilty man struck his breast, but it was only jto protest his innocence and to threaten his I calumniators. At last the clemency of the King was ex j hausted. Out of patience, he reentered the chateau, and consulted the Queen and Sully. The minister proposed to detain Biron in his cabinet, and cause him to be arrested there. “ No,” replied Henry. “If he defends hirnself, he may be wounded, and I do not wish blood to flow in my presence. Put on your boots, Sully, and let your people do the same, at nine o’clock.” Then he summoned Vitry and Praslin, and I ordered them to hold themselves in readiness j to obey him. The night drew on slowly. The entire j court was in expectation, everybody speaking | low. The marshal alone affected compo isure. Supping with Montigny, he was praising ’ the King of Spain at the expense of the King | of France. “You forget,” replied someone, “that Philip II never pardons an offence, not even of his own son.” Biron rose, as if he had understood noth ing, and went to play at prime with the King. At the door, a letter was placed in his hands containing these words-: “If you do not withdraw, you will be ar l rested in two hours.” lie showed it laughingly to his friend Va rennes. .“Ah! monsieur!” said the latter, with terror, “I would be willing to have a dagger in my heart to know you were in Burgun dy.” “Though ten daggers awaited me,” replied the Duke, “1 would not retreat one step.” While he was playing with the Queen, Auvergne, his accomplice, touched him on the shoulder, and said, in a low VQice : “It is not good for us to be here.” Biron did not even turn. Midnight was about to sound. Every one went away. The King wished to make one more trial. He led the Duke into the enclo sure of a window, and spoke to him thus : “ What would you do, Biron, to the man who, having been your best friend, your brother in arms, should become your most dangerous enemy, who should conspire against your kingdom, against your children, against your life V’ “I would not believe it, sire, and I would kill the authors of such an imposture.” “But if it was a truth clear as day, denied only by the guilty one—if you had in your hands all the proofs of his treason, which he denied only from pride and fool-hardi ness ?” The Duke trembled, and looked anxiously at the King; but he still thought best to per sist in the declaration of his innocence, and grew more and more firm in his denial. “Then,” replied he, “I would kill my friend himself, the traitor!” “Even if he acknowledged his crime at I the last moment, and repented of it to throw himself into your arms—even if he retailed _ V j to you the days when you had but one purse, J one bed, and one thought—even if he fell at your feet with tears of remorse ?” “I would strike him without mercy!” ex ! claimed the marshal, | “Ah ! Biron ! insensate man !” replied the I King, “ you have pronounced your own death-warrant. Well, lam unwilling to exe cute it, for I still love you; I wish to save you, in spite of yourself. I know all! I tell you; and I ask only that you acknowledge ; it. Give me your hand as formerly before 1 battles; embrace me as once you did after | victories. Let me see in your eyes one sin -1 cere tear, let me hear from your lips one sin ! cere word of affection, and all is effaced! |We shall have had only a bad dream, and our hearts shall be henceforth one.” “I do not understand you, sire,” replied the Duke, directing his steps towards the dour. “Baron de Biron, you will soon compre hend me!” added Henry, going out at the same time. And, as he spoke thus, Vitry, at the head |of the guards, arrested Biron in the ante | chamber. “In the name of the King, your sword, | marshal!” The blinded man at last opened his eyes, ! and cried out: “I wish to speak with his majesty!” “He is not there—it is too late! Your ! sword, Monsieur!” “ My sword—my sword—which has done so much good service!” “ Such are my orders ; you must surrender ; it voluntarily or by force.” Further resistance was impossible; Biron | gave up the weapon, raised his head, and fol lowed the guards. ! At the same instant, Praslin arrested the Comte d’Auvergne, who took the thing phi ! losophically. “ Here is my sword,” said he ; “it has | killed only wild boars. If you had arrested ,me two hours ago, I should now have been J quietly sleeping.” ’ Transported, the next day, from Fontaine bleau to Paris, Biron was judged, condemned ,and beheaded, in the court of the Bastille, the ■ 21st of July, 1602. Unfortunately, the justice of the King was i less noble than the efforts of his clemency. , In striking the marshal whom he loved, he I spared his accomplices whom he despised, and who were the father and brother of fils i favorite ; so that history regrets to find the ! blood of Biron, guilty as he was, on the pure crown of Henry IV. , The Comte d’Auvergne and his sister, the ; Marquise of Verneuil, were desirous of being | restored to favor, and resolved, for this pur pose, to humble Sully. They collected against him so many accusations, that the i confidence of the King in him was shaken. This also took place at Fontainebleau.— Sully saw in the eyes of Henry the injury - that had been done him. He found him one morning preparing for the chase, surrounded jby his courtiers. The King saluted him with j unusual coldness. Sully bowed the more j profoundly, and with an air so calm and loy j al, that Hemy was subdued. He took off his boots countermanded his orders respecting ! the ch * S( b sent away the courtiers, and went to walk in the garden, ent Ihe minister having asked his orders replied: ’ e “You know my affairs; continue to man age them and to love me always.” But Sully had hardly gone‘a hundred p a ces, when Henry turned towards him, recalled him, took him by the hand, and drew him beneath the white walls at the extremity nf I the garden of Pines. * “ Have you, then, nothing to tell me, RoS “Nothing at present, sire ” : “ I have something to tell you,” resumed Henry 1 v. And, unable to restrain himself longer, he i embraced his friend affectionately. Then he made him swear a corresponding confidence, 1 and revealed all the charges made against him, naming his numerous accusers.’ were a series of treasons, each more black and more absurd than the other. Sully remained unmoved, and the King asked him: 6 “Well, how does this seem to you ?” “It seems to me that you do not believe these foolish calumnies any more than my self,” replied the minister, “for you well know that my fortune, my energies and my life, are at vour service.” And he was about to have fallen at the feet of the prince, affected even to tears, when ihc latter raised hfm with this sublime sentence: • “Take care, Rosny, your enemies are ob serving us; they will think I am pardoning you !” At the same time he embraced him, and led him back joyfully towards his calumniators. “What time is it, gentlemen “One o'clock, sire ; your conversation has I lasted long.” “In fact, there are those to whom it has been more tiresome than to me. To comfort them, I will inform them that I love Sully more than ever, and that we are pledged to : each other for life.” TAJI, - The Literary World gives the following chapter from Herman Melville’s forthcoming book, “Mardi,” which is to be issued simul taneously by Messrs. Harper, in New York, and Bently, in London. From a perusal of i part of the proof sheets, the World pro nounces “Mardi” equal, if not superior, to ’ “Typee” and “Omoo” [Ed. I TAJI SITS DOWN TO DINNER WITH FIVE-ANT TWENTY KINGS, AND A ROYAL TIME THEY HAVE. It was afternoon when we emerged from the defile. And informed that our host was receiving his guests in the House of the Af ternoon, thither we directed our steps. Soft in our face blew the blessed breezes of Omi, stirring the leaves overhead ; while, here and there, through the trees, showed the idol-bearers of the royal retreat, hand in hand, linked with festoons of flowers. Still be yond, on a level, sparkled the nodding crowns of the kings, like the Constellation Corona- Borealis, the horizon just gained. Close by his noon-tide friend, the cascade at the mouth of the grotto, reposed on his crimson mat, Donjalolo—arrayed in a vest ment of the finest w hite tappa of Mardi, fig| ured all over with bright yellow lizards, so curiously stained in the gauze, that he seem ed overrun, as w T ith golden mice. Marjora’s girdle girdled his loins, tassellcd with the congregated teeth of his sires. A jewelled turban-tiara, milk-white, surmount ed his brow, over which waved a copse us Pintado plumes. But what sways in his hand ? A s( j e P, lr *J similar to those likenesses of sceptres, imbed ded among the corals at his feet. A polished thigh-bone; by Braid-Beard declared once Teei’s the Murdered. For to emphasize his intention utterly to rule, Marjora himself had selected this emblem of dominion over man kind. . . But even tills last despite done to dead Tern had once been transcended. In the usurper ? time, prevailed the belief, that the saliva o kings must never touch ground: and Mom s Chronicles made mention, that during 1 u life-time of Marjora, Teei’s skull had been devoted to the basest of purposes; Marjora s, the hate no turf could bury. , Yet, traditions like these ever seem 1 bious. There be many who deny the hump moral and physical, of Gloster Richard. Still advancing unperceived, in social hi rity, w T e descried their Highnesses, eba * & together like the most plebeian of morta > fullasjnerry as the monks of old. But mar ing oTTr approach, all changed. A P?” potentates, who had been playfully tn