"The very words of the Prayer book," murmured Lavinia. "Premature," muttered Mr. Potts again, and his fingers struggled faintly for release-Lavinia held them tight.

"By no means, Potts," said his wife-"I don't wish it to take place for a year-one twelvemonth you shall wear your crape. I ask no more-but promise me again, that Fanny Fusby never darkens these doors.'

"I wish to heaven," cried Potts, now evidently on the very eve of distraction. "I wish to heaven, I had never seen Fanny Fusby. She has brought all this upon me.'

"Bless my stars!" Doctor Dobbs exclaimed, as he bustled into the room- "there's Mrs. Potts sitting up in bed!-talking, I do believe !-lucky, I'm sure, that I looked in before I left the houselie down, lie down, my good lady-I can't answer for the consequences of such doings."

"Oh, doctor!" said Lavinia, "we have been begging and praying

her not to exert herself."

"It's cruel, downright cruel," protested Potts. "She does not consider me, Dobbs-not in the least-one would think I was a block to hear her talk."

Mrs. Potts informed the doctor, that she had merely been communicating her last wishes to her dear husband, and her dearest friend, and then went on to chant her nunc dimittis, in a voice more sick and low than ever-(she was always more piano in the medical presence than at any other time).-" Now she could depart in peace -now all was settled-now Fanny Fusby could not dance upon her grave, nor snub poor little Tommy-Simcox would watch over him, and be poor Potts's comforter."

The doctor listened in mute amazement-Mr. Potts was evidently growing more and more bewildered, between conflicting duties;— the present and the future Mrs. P. were both before him; he knew not where to turn or look, and stood gazing into vacancy, with his hands now freed from Lavinia's grasp, and firmly planted in his pockets-Miss Simcox, herself, was nearly overcome by the novelty and complexity of her emotions. Sensitive and shrinking by nature, her modesty on the present occasion was excessive, and manifested itself by a determination of blushes to the nose-it was a moment fraught with intense feeling-with high interests-one of those moments of such rare occurrence in this work-a-day world—that come upon us like fountains in the desert-like dew-drops to the thirsting flowers; there was something of sublime, in fact, in the pause which followed Mrs. Potts's address, but it was broken by the doctor's whistling.

"Tol e rol lol, my good lady," he said, "we must put a stop to this work-time enough for my friend Mr. Potts here to advertise for a wife twenty years to come, and I'd lay my life Miss Lavinia would rather not wait so long."

"Then you don't quite give me up, doctor?" said the patient. "To be sure I don't-who said I did, I'd like to know?" enquired the doctor.

"I didn't, I'm sure," said Lavinia, and (to use one of her own favourite figures of speech,) she "trembled all over.”

"I never dreamed of such a thing," Potts said, in as still and small a voice, as if his conscience had found a tongue to tell the fib.

"Don't talk, don't excite yourself, my good lady," said the doctor, "it's high time that you should take your draught, and settle for the night."

The enraptured Potts caught at the suggestion, and immediately convinced that any further conversation (not strictly medical) might interfere with Mrs. P.'s prospects of repose, proposed leaving her with Doctor Dobbs. Miss Simcox was of the same opinion, and, taking an affectionate, perhaps even pathetic farewell of the sick lady, they left the apartment.

Together they quitted it, together they groped their way down the dimly lighted stair case, Lavinia starting at every noise, (for she was nervous,) and pressing nearer to the side of him, whom she now looked on as her natural protector-together they sat by the cheerful parlour fire-their feet upon the fender in sweet proximitytheir hands-but Potts still kept his in his pockets, so Lavinia was fain to cross hers on her bosom-together, as the evening advanced, they discussed their little supper, and the Fusby family-the clumsiness of their ancles-(here Miss Simcox was unimpeachable, and glanced with pardonable triumph towards the fender)-the flauntingness of their attire their numerous small imperfections, and the unaccountable delusion under which poor dear Mrs. Potts laboured; with respect to Miss Fanny-the second eldest Fusby-"the most unlikely young woman in the world," (as Miss Lavinia more than once observed,) "to attract the attention of the most refined, and most truly elegant minded, of his sex."

In converse such as this, the evening sped swiftly away,- the doctor popped in his head for a moment, to bid them keep up their spirits, and to promise to look in early in the morning.

Doctor Dobbs had spoken truly; the influenza was a treacherous complaint." The next morning, Mrs. Potts, (who could have believed it?) was a great deal better; "She had taken a turn," her own maid said, the fact was, she had taken a beef-steak.

"I do believe they are keeping me too low, Jones," she had said to the maid in question, when Doctor Dobbs had taken his leave the preceding night.

"Yes, ma'am, and they has their reasons," said the maid; a woman of sense and few words.

"I smell something," said the invalid; "something savory." "Yes, ma'am.”

"What is it, Jones ?"

"Master and Miss Simcox is having toasted cheese for supper, ma'am." Jones spoke with considerable emphasis.

"Umph," muttered Mrs. Potts; "I thought she told me everything went on like clock-work-pretty clock-work! toasted cheese!" "They has a tray every night, quite comfortable," observed the maid, with admirable innocence.

To confess the truth, Miss Simcox was not a popular member in the lower house,-as to Jones, she entertained a strong objection, as any reasonable servant might to two Missuses, and "didn't see, for her part, what business they had of interlopers."

Presently, the odour emanating from the parlour and the toasted cheese became so potent, that Mrs. Potts declared "she could not sleep for it,"-presently, she thought "it gave her quite an appetite," presently, she fancied "she could pick a bit," and finally, she enquired with much interest, "what they had in the larder ?"

"A cold shoulder of mutton," was the unsatisfactory reply.

"I don't believe it!" said Mrs. Potts-"I don't believe but that she" (she was the friend of her bosom, the "sweet sympathizing Simcox"), "has got some nice little tit bit put by for her breakfastgo and see, Jones."

Jones departed on her mission-a successful one it proved; for after a brief absence, she returned in triumph, bearing a savory little bit of steak between two plates.

Mrs. Potts's conjecture had been but too well founded, and by a species of retributive and poetical justice, which in a tragedy would have been sublime, (especially if it had had a chorus), the very beefsteak which Lavinia, with tender foresight, had provided for her own matin meal, and that of Potts, became the means of raising the departing lady from the bed of sickness.

Mrs Potts ate, and was comforted.

On Monday, Mrs. Potts appeared betimes, alert and vigorous as ever-she made her breakfast,-she did more-she made her marmalade. "She saw to those preserves herself."

་·

Where was she who had undertaken this graceful task-who had promised to give her tender watchful care to the simmering, the stirring, and the gently boiling. Where was the fair Lavinia? Gone-gone in a one-horse fly, with a carpet-bag, a small portmanteau, a band-box, and a reticule, to Rosebud Bower," (for so was the sweet abode of the Fusby girls denominated,)—gone to pour our her sorrows in their sympathizing bosoms, to mourn with them over the common shipwreck of their hopes, and derive a joint and unspeakable consolation from a free canvass of all "poor dear Mrs. Potts's little peculiarities."

The Fusbys were young, their spirits were elastic, — they were bounding buxom girls, with a deal of "gushing life" about them -existence was new to them-new prospects were opening before them a new regiment was quartered in the neighbouring towna new curate was expected-what cared they after all for Mr. Potts? Not so Lavinia-she hung her head, and drooped like a lily. Her dreams were still of him-the memory of that little parlourthe cheerful fire-the friendly fender-the two arm-chairs drawn close together, all haunted her. Almost unconsciously to herself, the hapless Lavinia, nourished in the secret foldings of her heart, hopes, vague and ill-defined, yet strong.

"There have been such things as relapses, and what did Doctor Dobbs say about the deceitful nature of Mrs. Potts's malady ?” These were questions which Lavinia put to herself, as she sat alone by the fire one frosty morning in the Fusby drawing-room, and sorted her Berlin wools.

A knock came to the hall door, she started like a guilty thing, "who would venture forth on such a morning? so cold, so cutting."

She listened-she heard a voice familiar to her ears, loud, clear, and distinct were its tones-these its words.

"Give these cards and Mrs. Potts's compliments to the Misses Fusby-Miss Fanny in particular, and to Miss Simcox. Say I (Mrs. Potts,) called in person, mind, to return thanks for their polite enquiries and obliging attentions during the INFLUENZA."

VISITS, DINNERS, AND EVENINGS AT THE
QUAI D'ORSAY, AND AT NEUILLY.*

SOVEREIGNS and princes are not the only persons who have their courtiers and flatterers; the circumstance of being received at the palace, and going thither frequently, is alone sufficient to bring about you a troop of sycophants. Since the Revolution of July, more especially, it has been my fortune to come in contact with many very extraordinary people. My position about the royal family naturally led me a great deal into society, and obliged me to receive all sorts of persons, some of whom were useful in one point of view, but despicable in many other respects.

The meetings of the Phrenological Society were held in my drawing-room twice a month, and I often presided at them myself. All our principal medical men were present on these occasions, Monsieur Broussais and his son, Bouilland, Andral, Fossatti, Gaubert, Lacorbière, Demontier, Harel, Debout, Voisin, Salandière, and others, and any foreigners who, during their stay in Paris, were desirous of informing themselves of the system of Gall and Spurzheim. Sometimes these meetings were particularly interesting. One evening two heads, covered with flesh, were brought me in a basket. At first I thought they were modelled in wax, for they were placed with much caution upon the table, which served as a desk for the president and his secretaries. The eyes were open, and the features in a state of perfect repose. I drew near to the table, and recognized the faces of Lacenaire and Avril, two murderers whom I had visited in their cells. The boy who brought the two heads to the Phrenological Society, said to me, "You consider them very good likenesses, don't you, Monsieur Appert?" Upon my answering in the affirmative, he smiled, and observed, "that that was not very astonishing, for they had only quitted their shoulders four hours ago." In short, they were actually the heads of those two criminals.

A curious circumstance happened to me in connexion with Lacenaire, which is worth relating. A short time before he committed the horrible murder for which he was sentenced to the scaffold, he paid me a visit, on pretence of having an important secret to confide to me. I knew him immediately, for I had seen him in prison, but I had nothing to fear from him as regarded myself, so I desired that he might be shewn into my study, in order that we might not be overheard by my secretaries. As soon as he entered the room, he closed the inside blinds, and, placing his back against the door, he said, "Do you know, my worthy Monsieur Appert, that you are very incautious to place yourself so completely in my power, and in an apartment too, where all your money is kept. I was aware of this when you brought me here. Your cries for assistance would not be easily heard, we are so far removed from any of your household. I have arms secreted about my person, and am already guilty of several crimes: what should prevent me from killing you? But you have nothing to fear," added he immediately afterwards. "What man would be such a monster as to harm you, you who are

From the French of M. B. Appert.

the friend and comforter of prisoners? No," said he with energy, "rather would I die this instant than cause you a moment's pain." I answered him with a smile, "Am I not perfectly acquainted with you all, with all your characters? You have very fearful, dark thoughts at times, undoubtedly; but still there is no reason which should prevent me from trusting myself alone with you; in fact, if any danger menaced me, it would be in a prison or bagnio that I should seek refuge."

am.

Lacenaire was much affected at this reply; for a few minutes his feelings quite overcame him; tears rolled down his cheeks, and he addressed me in the following remarkable manner,—“ Ah, Monsieur Appert, if I could remain with you, under your immediate authority, I swear to you that I would renounce the evil course of life I have hitherto led. You cannot conceive what a guilty wretch I I have committed murder several times, but only when my brain has been in a state of frenzy. At these moments I lose all sense of what I am doing. Often I think how different I might be; I forget the horror of my past life, and, in your presence, on beholding your perfect confidence in me, murderer as I am, and you too quite in my power, I feel an unaccountable emotion. It is you who make me tremble; you are completely my master; speak only, and I throw myself at your feet."

This scene had powerfully affected me. I raised Lacenaire, and took him by the hand, and, in order to prove to him how entirely I trusted in his right intentions, I opened my cash-box, which was filled with gold and bank notes, and, going towards the door, said to him, "I have some directions to give, Lacenaire; wait here a few minutes, and take care of my money." He appeared stupified at these words. I went into my secretaries' apartment, signed some letters, and then returned to Lacenaire, and closed the door. "This is the first time that a cash-box has been so well guarded by you; eh, Lacenaire?" This strong man, this great criminal, was completely subdued, controlled as a wild beast by its keeper. He seemed to be in want, so I offered him a loan of thirty francs. It was only after I had written him an order to receive this money, that he would accept it. We both of us forgot the secret which he was to confide to me. Only a short time after, this unfortunate man was condemned to death, with his accomplice, Avril; François was sentenced to hard labour for life. A man visited me one day, who could not be induced to give his name. It was impossible, however, to be deceived as to his being an inhabitant of a bagnio. The character of his physiognomy and his manner proved it. He said to me in a low tone,-for he came to me during one of my morning audiences," Monsieur Appert, my friend, Lacenaire, who is shortly to be executed, wished me to see you. He did not ask you to go to him, for he thought it might give you pain, but he has desired me to thank you, and to return the thirty francs which he owes you." The stranger slipped the money into my hand, and disappeared, without giving me time to utter a word.

After these two anecdotes, you will easily imagine it was with considerable emotion that I gazed upon poor Lacenaire's head, for he had made a great impression upon me. To complete the account of this strange affair, the executioner sent me the great-coat which this wretched man wore at the time of his execution. During each