Baboo, I hold you responsible that no one hears a word of this meanwhile.

The head clerk departs uneasy and anxious, but on the whole satisfied that he has done the safest thing to save himself.

The collector sends for Ghous Ali, and questions him strictly in private, and very soon comes to a correct conclusion as to the secret reason of his head clerk's unusual anxiety. He nevertheless determines to say nothing about it to the head clerk for the present, for two reasons: first, because the accusation against so high an official as the Deputy Sahib is a much more important matter; and secondly, because he perceives that strict legal proof of the head clerk's fault will not be forthcoming.

On the collector's arrival at his office, the head clerk forthwith produces the plain and irrefragable proofs of the deputy collector's breach of duty.

Satisfied of the latter's prima facie guilt, the collector immediately calls upon Gopal Ghose for his explanation or defence.

The course which Gopal Ghose takes is characteristic. He solicits a private interview, which the collector grants him, when the native is abject and fulsome to the last degree, but in which he constantly evades any direct explanation, contenting himself with a general denial. The collector, tired out, at last tells him that he must send him his written defence of the charge, as he can make nothing out of his verbal statements.

The written defence is at last put in, and is a model of evasion and verbiage. It consists of partial admissions, justifications, pointblank denials, and a final appeal for favourable construction. The collector, after a full and impartial enquiry into the real facts, finds that the case is a very gross instance of wilful and systematic evasion of

the regulations, and reports the whole matter to the Government through the usual channels. The commissioner, Mr. Romaine, attempts the deputy collector's defence, but signally fails to prove anything but his own proneness to favouritism, for which he receives a severe snub from the Government.

Gopal

The deputy collector, Ghose, a month afterwards hears his fate, which is, that he is dismissed from the service of Government, and herewith his intriguing and restless career is brought to a close.

Meanwhile great awe falls upon the conspirators, with the excep tion of Mr. Bludyer, the joint magistrate, who-we must in justice state-doesn't care a dump for the consequences. Nevertheless, he does not escape scot free. Not having a very intimate acquaintance with native character, he does not recog nise the fact that, in native opinion, he too is in disgrace, owing to the disgrace of his known crony and ally the plotting deputy collector, and that he is now, therefore, a person whom it will be safe to attack.

He has an ungovernable temper, which is a good deal soured by the terrible heat of the climate and the worry of constant mental work. He has hitherto never been accused of giving way to it, though he has more than once visited with corporal chastisement natives who had excited his wrath.

Now, however, that he is supposed to be in disgrace, on the first occasion of his assaulting a man, the injured party, who happens to be a chuprassi (or orderly messenger) of the court, at once makes a formal charge, and brings an action of assault against him before Mr. C. The joint magistrate is as surprised as was Balaam when the ass he was smiting spoke, but doggedly declines to come to his senses, and writes Mr. C. a dis

respectful letter, which the latter forwards to Government with a report of the circumstances, and a request that his junior may be removed to some other district. To this request the Government accedes, coupling with it the unpleasant information to Mr. Bludyer that he is to consider himself suspended for the next six months (a sentence equivalent to a fine of 400l.), and that any repetition of a similar offence will involve his immediate dismissal from the service.

It is hardly necessary to say that Mr. C. found no difficulty after the conclusion of these events in dispensing with the services of the sharp youth,' Manockjee Ghose, who turns out to be as unfit for his post as Mr. C. originally supposed him to be.

And here we must close our history of the Bijlipoor intrigue. Mr. Collins is so plainly left victor in the struggle, that he becomes greatly renowned in his day and generation. A general opinion prevails among the native community that it is unwise to attack him, and he finds little opposition henceforth in any part of his work. Fortunately for Bijlipoor, Mr. C. is benevo

lent and calm as well as energetic. He devotes himself to road making, bridge building, sanitation, &c. with success. He builds several caravanserais, one or two of which are called after his name. He efficiently supervises his own subordinates, which after all is his most important work, sees that they do their duty and oppress no one. Finally, he (to use the jargon of the Bengali Gopal Ghose) interests himself in noble cause of education' and 'progress of civilisation;' and after three or four years more, lays down the reins of his government with the pleasant certainty that he has done much good and paved the way for very much more.

P.S. The above sketch, it need hardly be said, is purely fictitious; and it must not be supposed that the relations between Government officers are frequently as unsatisfactory as those existing between Mr. Collins and Mr. Romaine. But the story will illustrate the kind of position respectively occupied by the different functionaries described, and the circumstances that might well occur, under personal conditions analogous to those supposed.

Y.

6

The little infant thus held up, after the interval of fifty-three years, was lately near seeing that prophecy accomplished, and has grown up into the present Count of Chambord.

A claimant to a throne has a considerable advantage when a little romance is connected with his history; and, indeed, most modern pretenders have not wanted this important element. Charles Edward, Louis XVIII., Louis Philippe, Napoleon III. were all heroes of adventures more thrilling than the modern sensation novelist could invent or work up; and when they took their seat upon the throne, they only rested after a weary and exciting course of peril and hairbreadth escapes. But it was the privilege of the Count of Chambord to enjoy this halo of romance without the risks and probation almost inseparable from romance; although his coming into the world was shadowed by omens, and dreams, and mysterious warnings. A cruel assassination was to be the bloody presage that heralded his birth; while lurid images of revolution and hurried flight from danger must even now disturb the recollec

tion of the elderly claimant to the throne of France. That child, too -who might reasonably have look

ed to the throne within a year or two-was then to lose it as it seemed for ever, and wait patiently for over forty years to go by before the chance of reascending it offered. The romance has not yet concluded; or may one day conclude in the old way, hurried flight in disguise— barricades and firing in the streets.

The immediate heir to Louis XVIII. was the Count of Artois. The latter's eldest son, the Duke of Angoulême, who had been married for some time, had no children; while the second son, the Duke of Berry, was still unmarried. It seemed, therefore, that the succession of the family to the throne was insecure, and that it was in the power of a slight accident to destroy it altogether. In this state of things it was determined without further loss of time to provide the Duke of Berry with a wife; and in the year 1816, M. de Blacas despatched to arrange an alliance with one of the royal family of Naples.

was

gay,

The young prince was popular, and of engaging manners. He was accomplished-had been a soldier, a sailor, an artist, and had undergone the rude but wholesome training of exile. He had much the advantage of his elder brother, who was serious and almost ascetic in his habits. The princess selected was his Bourbon cousin, Maria Caroline of Naples, grand-daughter of the resolute Lady Hamilton's friend, and niece to Marie Amélie, who was later Queen of the French. On February 8 the young prince made his proposals in the following agreeable letter:

Paris, Feb. 8, 1816.

Madame my Sister and Cousin,-I have long desired the King, your grandfather, and the prince, your father, to demand that to which I attach the happiness of my life; but before obtaining their consent, I would

fain solicit your royal highness to deign to confide to me the happiness of your life in uniting it with mine. I dare to flatter myself that, by age, experience, and long adversity, I am not quite unworthy of being your husband, your friend, your guide. In quitting relatives worthy of your love, you will find here a family which will remind you of the time of the patriarchs. What could I tell you of the King, of my brother, of Monsieur, and, above all, of that angel, Madame, Duchesse d'Angoulême, which you have not yet heard, except that their virtues, their goodness, are far above any possible praises that can be uttered concerning them. My relatives all eagerly desire that your royal highness may fulfil my wishes, and consent to augment the number of our family. Deign, madame, to yield a favourable answer to my prayers, and to hasten the moment which will enable me to lay at your feet the testimony of the respectful and tender sentiments with which I am, madame my sister and cousin, your royal highness's very affectionate brother and

cousin.

CHARLES FERDINAND.'

No time was lost, and on April 25, 1816, the marriage was performed at Naples, by proxy, after the old-fashioned style. A few days later the young princess embarked in state after the most festive manner, crowds strewing flowers before her, the archbishop blessing, and all the Italian maidens believing that she was entering on the happiest and most enviable life conceivable. At Marseilles an enthusiastic reception awaited her. A gilded galley, rowed by rowers dressed in white satin, took her to the shore through a forest of shipping. The streets were lined with soldiers. The Hôtel de Ville, according to a somewhat absurd custom, was declared to be 'neutral territory' for the occasion; and its principal room was divided into two portions, representing France and Italy. When

the preliminaries had been settled, the princess was passed over from Naples to France by the French ambassador. After this

ceremonial, it was assumed that she had become French. The journey was then resumed; and on her progress to Paris she was encouraged by ardent letters from the bridegroom.

In one of these letters, the expectant husband says:

I will not write you a long letter to-day, having much to send you that will interest you more. I am occupied in seeking horses for you, and I hope to find some that will suit you. We have been to see the corbeille (wedding garments) which the King gives you, and I hope that you will be

content with it; it contains, above all, a ball dress that I shall be enchanted to see

you wear. My father superintends the arrangement of your library. My brother and his wife (Duchesse d'Angoulême) deck your chamber; each one of us finds a sweet pleasure in doing something that may be agreeable to you! And who more desires this than he already united to you by ties the most sacred? I am always afraid of

my thirty-eight years of age. I know that at seventeen I thought those very old who were getting near to forty. I do not flatter myself that I shall inspire you with love,

but rather with that tender sentiment stronger than friendship, that sweet confidence which ought to ensue from affection. I see that I shall never finish on this point. Adieu, still fifteen long days! I kiss the hand of my wife as I love her.

CHARLES FERDINAND.

June 12, 1816. Your letter from Lyons, which I received from the hand of the King, has caused me a pleasure which I cannot express to you. I am charmed to be scolded by you about my writing; you have much reason to find fault with it; but in writing to you my heart carries me away, and you have no idea of the effort I am obliged to make to be legible. I experience also a great pleasure to-day-I possess your portrait. At least that does not do you injustice; and even were it a little flattering, one may be extremely agreeable without being so pretty as that portrait."

They took a fortnight to approach Paris, which they did in rather theatrical fashion-the Duchess of Reggio, who was in the carriage, announcing to her that they were

at the Forest of Fontainebleau. In an open space they came upon two tents, where the royal family was waiting to greet her, and a strict piece of etiquette was to be observed. A carpet was stretched on the grass, half of which she was to traverse and meet her new relations in the centre; when this was explained to her, she asked laughing, for she was full of spirits,' was the bit of carpet also neutral ground?' and then rushed across the prescribed limit to cast herself at the feet of the King.

This was considered charming,' a delightful piece of irregularity. The King raised her, and presented her to his nephew with the gracious speech, that it was as a daughter that she was given, for that he already felt that he was her father. This role of ingénue was kept up, and the Court was to be enchanted with stories of her naïveté and childish escapades-how she broke from the control of stiff Court etiquette, jumped over chairs, set in a row, and indulged in romps.

Lady Clementina Davies, who was presented to her about this time, describes her as a child wife' with the fairest complexion and the largest blue eyes. There was about them what she called an 'uncertainty-a piece of ingenious Court Hattery-though it did not amount to a squint. When her husband returned home, she would run down-stairs to meet him at the door for the pleasure of being carried up-stairs in his arms. All this suggested awkward recollections of the old Court, where there were traditions of another princess, Marie Antoinette, whose gaiety and levities took precisely the same shape. Something may be conceived of the spirit which had been revived at the Bourbon Court, from the fact that the old King was particular in insisting that none of the princesses should go outside Paris without special permission from him—a rule

which the rather flighty little Italian lady took delight in violating. It was considered very remarkable, too, that the Angoulêmes, husband and wife, should have exhibited toleration rather than jealousy towards one who it was hoped would prove the mother of an heir to the throne; and it was noticed that the amiable and pious lady held the canopy over the pair while the blessing of children was invoked on them from the altar. But considering that the royal lady was almost a saint, there was nothing in such behaviour that ought to have surprised the Court gossips.

Presently came results of this marriage, which, however, seemed to keep all parties interested in a flutter of uncertainty. Several children were born, but they died after a short time. As they were girls, it was of little importance so far as the dynasty was concerned whether they died or lived. Still it seemed to grow, on the whole, more probable that the hoped-for blessing would presently arrive. The lady was grievously disappointed, and on one occasion the Duke encouraged her good-humouredly: 'Don't be cast down, for if it were a boy they would say that it was not ours, whereas no one will care to dispute with us for this little girl.' It was scarcely wonderful that, under such circumstances, the Duke should have presentiments; or that his life, which had hitherto been of the Frenchman's usual gay character, should have assumed a gloomy cast. The troubles of his childhood, now little more than twenty years old, must have cast shadows, so that whether he looked forward or backward he could not find the prospect very cheering. When he was about sixteen, and the Revolution was beginning to rage, it was determined that he and his brother should be secretly sent away from Paris, and it was determined that they should be intrusted to the Duke of Sirent,