Serving under Kellerman on that day was one who has experienced, perhaps the most deeply of all men, the changes for good and for evil which the French Revolution has produced. He who now, in his second exile, bears the name of the Count de Neuilly in this country, and who lately was Louis Philippe, King of the French, figured in the French lines at Valmy as a young and gallant officer, cool and sagacious beyond his years, and trusted accordingly by Kellerman and Dumouriez with an important station in the national army. The Duc de Chartres (the title he then bore) commanded the French right, General Valence was on the left, and Kellerman himself took his post in the centre, which was the strength and key of his position.

Contrary to the expectations of both friends and foes, the French infantry held their ground steadily under the fire of the Prussian guns, which thundered on them from La Lune; and their own artillery replied with equal spirit and greater effect on the denser masses of the allied army. Thinking that the Prussians were slackening in their fire, Kellerman formed a column in charging order, and dashed down into the valley in the hopes of capturing some of the nearest guns of the enemy. A masked battery opened its fire on the French column, and drove it back in disorder, Kellerman having his horse shot under him, and being with difficulty carried off by his men. The Prussian columns now advanced in turn. The French artillerymen began to waver and desert their posts, but were rallied by the efforts and example of their officers, and Kellerman, reorganising the line of his infantry, took his station in the ranks on foot, and called out to his men to let the enemy come close up, and then to charge them with the bayonet. The troops caught the enthusiasm of their general, and a cheerful shout of Vive la nation, taken up by one battalion from another, pealed across the valley to the assailants. The Prussians hesitated from a charge up hill against a force that seemed so resolute and formidable; they halted for a while in the hollow, and then slowly retreated up their own side of the valley.

Indignant at being thus repulsed by such a foe, the King of Prussia formed the flower of his men in person, and, riding along the column, bitterly reproached them with letting their standard be thus humiliated. Then he led them on again to the attack, marching in the front line, and seeing his staff mowed down around him by the deadly fire which the French artillery reopened. But the troops sent by Dumouriez were now co-operating effectually with Kellerman, and that general's own men, flushed by success, presented a firmer front than ever. Again the Prussians retreated, leaving eight hundred dead behind, and at nightfall the French remained victors on the heights of Valmy.

All hopes of crushing the Revolutionary armies, and of the promenade to Paris, had now vanished, though Brunswick lingered long in the Argonne, till distress and sickness wasted away his once splendid force, and finally but a mere wreck of it recrossed the frontier. France, meanwhile felt that she possessed a giant's strength, and, like a giant, did she use it. Before the close of that year all Belgium obeyed the National Convention at Paris, and the Kings of Europe, after the lapse of eighteen centuries, trembled once more before a conquering military Republic.

VOL. XXIII.

3 A

THE GERMAN'S FATHERLAND.

(Des Deutschen Vaterland.)

SUNG AS THE NATIONAL HYMN IN ALL THE RECENT MOVEMENTS IN
PRUSSIA AND OTHER PARTS OF GERMANY.

"Einmüthig sich verbanden, das Reich, und ihre fürstliche Ehre, an der Kur des Reiches, an seinen und ihren Rechten, handhaben, schützen, una beschirmen zu wollen, nach aller ihrer Macht und Kraft, ohne Gefährde wider Iedermann ohne einige Ausnahme.""

"They united with one mind, for the purpose of managing, protecting, and defending the empire and their princely honour, in the Electorate of the empire, and in all its and their jurisdictions with all their might and strength, without fraud against every one without any exception whatsoever.'"

Resolution of the Assembly of Rense, 15th July, 1338.

"Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland."-ARNDT (1813).

That is the German's Fatherland!

Whence Scorn sweeps out all strange command,
Where "false" and "foreign" say the same,*
And "German" means the heart's strong flame,
That land is his ! land proud and free!

That land all Germany shall be!

That land all Germany shall be !

Oh God! from heaven look down on thee!

And give us thorough German soul

To love thee true, entire, and whole,

Then shall it be, then shall it be !

That land all Germany shall be!

W.

* The play of words in the original can scarcely be rendered in English: "Wo walsch und falsch hat gleichen Klang."

GOSSIP FROM PARIS.*

BY MRS. PERCY SINNETT.

PARIS, at the present moment, is one of the most delightful spots imaginable, for those who can manage to forget the past and close their eyes to the future. Spring has come in, in her most splendid full dress, to declare for the republic. The air is embalmed with flowers, the bayonets wreathed with lilacs, "grim-visaged war has smoothed his wrinkled front," and the bright blue sky and the sun have declared themselves en permanence. For this week past the houses have been empty, all Paris preferring to reside al fresco upon the Boulevards; and whatever suffering or privation may be hidden within doors, all the faces one meets wear a holiday aspect; people pocket their private troubles, cry, "begone, dull Care," and come out to make a day of it, and enjoy their revolution-while they may. They say it's nonsense to talk of civil war, for nobody could bear to run the chance of being killed, and so losing his place at the next fête; just as at the theatres, whatever fierce quarrels may spring up between the acts, the heroes concerned take care to command themselves sufficiently to wait for the dénouement.

This is our security,-perhaps our only one. As long as the audience are amused, all is well, for woe betide us if they begin to yawn. It would not be long before our fraternal embraces would be changed into a fierce grapple for life or death, and it is impossible, as one looks around, to prevent the intrusion of some ugly reminiscences of the "Feast of Pikes," and other golden days of the first Revolution.

You know that Paris has not yet put itself to much expense for its revolutionary toilette, for not only the old red and tricolored ribbons, but our customs, language, and ideas have been, to a great extent, borrowed, provisionally, from the year '92. We have plagiarised wholesale from our papas, dressed ourselves out in all their old trumpery, and borrowed alike Phrygian caps, trees of liberty, and financial ruin. This is the second representation of the piece of the Sovereign People, but we have not been able to afford new dresses and decorations.

The admirers of curiosities used to think much of the Gobelin tapestry, but this is nothing to the historical tapestry that now decorates the walls of Paris in all the colours of the rainbow. Every corner is a People's Journal, and some houses exhibit from top to bottom confessions of political faith. You are called on to stop, in large type, at every two or three paces, and an incessant lively conversation is carried on between you and the wall. You read perhaps one bulletin concerning the health of the republic, that throws you into a dreadful fright; but a few yards further you are reassured again by-" CITIZENS! CONFIDENCE and COURAGE. Republican France is free, is happy, will be great!"

Some gentlemen, anxious to recommend themselves to electors, have written their autobiography all along the ground floors, and

Our readers will please to observe, that in speaking of Paris we answer only for the passing day. We can only hope to "catch ere she change this Cynthia of the minute."

doctors in want of practice have affected to offer themselves as candidates, to remind the public of their address.

The Champs Elysées are in the occupation of an army of mountebanks, who have descended upon it in swarms, like the locusts on the land of Egypt. Hyenas roar from their cages under the trees, live fish jump out of their tubs and say "papa," and the eternal giantess offers to allow all the grenadiers in the universe to pass under her arm.

As evening comes on, candles sprout out of the pavement, and musicians by the side of the candles, old harps begin to promenade the streets, and in coming out of a dark passage you may chance to tumble over a piano which has taken up its position there, while, from all sides, your ears are regaled with melodies, "married to immortal verse," in which tyrants and chains and brandished swords are what actors call "stock properties."

One of the most favourite entertainments, however, is to be found in an old coach transformed into a magic lantern, where may be seen Hell" and "Paradise;" in the former Louis Philippe and Guizot are most satisfactorily deposited in the flames; the latter, in a sky hideously blue, rejoices in the presence of Julius Cæsar, Napoleon, and General Lamorciere.

As for the Pont des Arts, it really seems as if, since the toll has been taken off, all Paris had done nothing but walk backwards and forwards over it incessantly, though some passengers have effected a lodgment; for you have to run the gauntlet between Savoyards with their marmots, rows of gentlemen who deal in walking sticks, and beggars with every description of deformity, and every "creeping thing" that moves on the face of the earth, including a terrible looking fellow without legs, who moves himself along on a piece of board.

Journalism of course goes on at an awful rate, some "Citizens" writing whole papers "out of their own heads," as children say, such as the Journal des Honnêtes Gens, the Ami du Peuple, &c. The political fever has also seized on the fair sex, and gives utterance to its delirium in the Voix des Femmes; George Sand has her own review, the Cause du Peuple, and under the porch of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, an old lady sits offering the Eve Nouvelle. Pamphlets descend in showers, but one has scarcely time to read even their titles. Some contain good advice to the government; others, poems smelling of the gunpowder of the barricades.

At the corner of one of the bridges, the eye is caught by a flaming placard of a "whole, true, and particular account" of the exchange of a young lady of the highest rank for a boy of the vilest condition,videlicet, Louis Philippe. This pamphlet, we are told, was destroyed with the greatest fury by the agents of the late king, for in it the whole story of his life is "completely unmasked," and all the facts are supported by the most solid proofs "written in characters of fire!" Another of the same species is the amours of Louis Philippe with Madame Stephanie Durrest de Genlin. The correspondence of Louis Philippe and Abd-el-Kader, in which the crimes of Guizot are unveiled; and another, the resurrection of the Duke de Praslin, and his interview with the ex-royal family in London, "all for the small charge of one halfpenny." The eruption of this mud volcano is, however, less active than during the earlier days of the revolution.