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that Johnson, who had contributed a few lines, a familiar nod, he pledged the poet in the hearing was the author of the whole. Accordingly, Mr. of the whole company, "Come, Noll, here's my Chamier, one of the members, on the first occa- service to you, my old boy." We quote the sequel sion that presented itself, undertook to sound the of the story from Washington Irving. "Glover author on the subject. He boldly commenced whispered to Goldsmith that he should not allow with the question, "Mr. Goldsmith, what do you such liberties. Let him alone,' was the reply, mean by the last word in the first line of your you'll see how civilly I'll let him down.' After Traveller'a time he called out, Mr. B., I have the honor of drinking your good health.' Alas! dignity was not poor Goldsmith's forte; he could keep no one at a distance. Thank'ee, thank'ee, Noll,' nodded the pig-butcher, scarce taking the pipe out of his mouth. 'I don't see the effect of your reproof,' whispered Glover. I give it up,' replied Goldsmith, with a good-humored shrug; I ought to have known before now there is no putting a pig in the right way.'

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Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow

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Do you mean tardiness of locomotion ?" Johnson was there, watching his flurried friend, and thus reports his reply. Goldsmith," he says, "who would say something without consideration, answered Yes.' I was sitting by, and said, No, sir, you did not mean tardiness of locomotion; you mean that sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in solitude.'-' Ah!' exclaimed Goldsmith, that was what I meant.' Chamier," continues Johnson, "believed then I had written the line, as much as if he had seen me write it."

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No doubt and yet how natural was the thoughtless, off-hand reply from the lips of the inconsiderate Hibernian. "No man," truly remarked the great lexicographer, on another occasion," is more foolish than Goldsmith when he has not a pen in his hand, or more wise when he has."

Already distinguished as a novelist and poet, Goldsmith's next triumph was in the drama. After having been subjected to many vexatious delays, his comedy of the "Good-natured Man" at length made its appearance; and though but partially successful on its first representation, it justified the expectations of his friends, and has since kept possession of the stage. But the author (who had gone to the theatre in a new suit of clothes, manufactured for the occasion, value, 81. 2s. 7d.) was mortified and disappointed. Concealing his chagrin, he went to the Literary Club, and chatted to some of its members; but he afterwards confessed that when all were gone, except Johnson, he burst out a-crying, and protested he would never write again. It is characteristic of Goldsmith that he afterwards, in his guileless simplicity of heart, told this story to a large company at dinner, when Johnson was present, who cried out in astonishment, "I thought all this had been a secret be tween you and me, and I am sure I would not have said anything about it for the world.”—“ It is sin gular, however," observes Washington Irving "that Goldsmith, who thus in conversation could keep nothing to himself, should be the author of a maxim which would inculcate the most thorough Men of the world,' says he, in

It was Goldsmith's fortune to achieve success late in life. He was nearly forty when the publication of the "Traveller" raised him to distinction in the world of letters. 66 Beginning," observes Mr. Forster, "with not even the choice which Fielding admits was his, of hackney writer or hackney coachman, he has fought his way at last to consideration and esteem. But he bears upon him the scars of his twelve years' conflict; of the mean sorrows through which he has passed, and of the cheap indulgences he has sought relief and help from." Again:-"His reputation had been silently widening, in the midst and in despite of his humble drudgery; his poem, his novel, his essays, had imperceptibly enlarged the circle of his admirers; and he was somewhat suddenly sub-dissimulation. jected to the social exactions that are levied on literary fame." As we come to the last period of Goldsmith's life it is necessary to bear all this in mind, because it accounts for most of the foibles, follies, and indiscretions that have been laid to his charge. In his days of penury he had not been very scrupulous about his acquaintances. As his fortunes improved he continued easily accessible, fond of conviviality, and careless of the world's opinion. As soon as he obtained a footing in polite society he did not discard his old associates, or forsake his former haunts. His delight was in free-and-easy clubs; particularly in a certain club meeting on Wednesday evenings at the Globe Tavern in Fleet street. A countryman named Glover once accompanied him to this congenial resort, and was shocked to hear the familiar tone in which Goldsmith was addressed by some of the humbler members. A wealthy pig-butcher, especially, was singularly free and easy. Raising his glass, with

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one of the papers of the Bee, maintain that the true end of speech is not so much to express our wants as to conceal them.' How often is this quoted as one of the subtle remarks of the finewitted Talleyrand!”

"The Good-natured Man," however, had a tolerable run, and produced its author no less a sum than 4007. He now felt disposed to launch out into a more luxurious style of living, and he accordingly invested his money in the purchase of the lease of a set of chambers on the second floor in No. 2, Brick Court, Middle Temple. This was his last residence-the last of the local habitations which his genius has hallowed to all posterity. Sir William Blackstone, the author of the Commentaries, had chambers immediately under him, and it is said, often complained of the rackets and revels overhead. Although, like Johnson, fond of town life, Goldsmith appears to have had a true taste and relish for country scenery.

He occa

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sionally took strolls in the neighborhood of Lon- | Goldsmith, whilst sight-seeing in the French medon, (which he called making "a shoemaker's tropolis, will provoke a smile, especially if we holiday;") and when hardly pressed by the book-consider that the Jessamy Bride was probably sellers, he would take a quiet cottage a few miles present and beheld his discomfiture. Being with from town, for the purpose of uninterrupted labor. a party at Versailles, viewing the water-works, a It was thus that the "Deserted Village" was question arose among the gentlemen present, whether written. Strolling among the green lanes and the distance from whence they stood to one of the hedgerows in the environs of London, he relieved little islands, was within the compass of a leap. his "prosaic toils" by the composition of this Goldsmith maintained the affirmative; but, being charming poem. When we recollect the circum- bantered on the subject, and remembering his forstances under which it was penned, we need not mer powers as a youth, attempted the leap, but, wonder at the melancholy tone that pervades it. falling short, descended into the water, to the great It was written under the influence of a sacred sor- amusement of the company." With the Horneck row; in those moods of melancholy which called he must have spent many delightful days. He was forth all the poet's tenderness, and imparted a a frequent guest at their country seat at Barton, in more than wonted softness to the delineations of Suffolk; they appreciated his character, and he his pen. His brother Henry, the supposed origi- was ever ready to add to their fund of harmless nal of the village preacher, was just dead. If his amusement. We may form some idea of the playpoetical portrait be correct, he was a genuine ful badinage and humorous sallies that enlivened Goldsmith-a true scion of that gentle and gener- this intercourse by perusing the following lines which occur, among others, in a humorous letter indited by the poet to Little Comedy, (then become Mrs. Bunbury.) The ladies, it appears, would often invite him to play at loo, the fashionable game of the day, and, affecting to be his advisers, get him into all sorts of difficulties:

ous race.

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side:
But in his duty prompt at every call,

He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all ;
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.

While the memory of such a brother was yet fresh in his heart, and his grief was green, it no doubt occurred to Goldsmith to hand down his blameless career to posterity, as a graceful tribute of fraternal affection. And we further with agree Washington Irving, "that the whole character seems traced, as it were, in an expiatory spirit; as if, conscious of his own wandering restlessness, he sought to humble himself at the shrine of excellence which he had not been able to practise."

Now, ladies, I ask, if law-matters you 're skilled in,
Whether crimes such as yours should not come
before Fielding;

For giving advice that is not worth a straw,
May well be called picking of pockets in law;
And picking of pockets, with which I now charge ye,
Is, by quinto Elizabeth, death without clergy.
What justice, when both to the Old Bailey brought!
By the gods, I'll enjoy it, though 't is but in
thought!

Both are placed at the bar, with all proper decorum,
With bunches of fennel and nosegays before 'em;
Both cover their faces with mobs and all that,
But the judge bids them angrily take off their hat
When uncovered, a buzz of enquiry runs round,
Pray what are their crimes?"_
111 They 've been

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pilfering found.”—
"But pray who 've they pilfered ?"-"A doctor, I
hear."

"What, yon solemn-faced, odd-looking man that
stands near?"
"The same. "-" What a pity, how does it sur-

prise one!

Two handsomer culprits I never set eyes on.
Then their friends all come round me with cring

ing and leering,

To melt me to pity, and soften my swearing.
First, Sir Charles advances, with phrases well
strung,

About this time an interesting episode enlivened Goldsmith's literary life. At the house of Sir Joshua Reynolds he made the acquaintance of a Mrs. Horneck-a widow lady, with a son in the Guards, and two beautiful, amiable, and accomplished daughters. The whole family took a decided fancy to the whimsical poet, and he in return was not insensible to the charms of the daughters. The elder of these young ladies was known among her friends by the name of Little Comedy, and the younger (whose heart by the way was still unengaged) had received the sobriquet of the Jessamy Bride. It has been hinted that the poor author, to whom nature had denied the fascinations of person which are said to form the principal recommendation to the favor of the fair sex, was surprised into an attachment to the Jessamy Bride, which, though commenced in sportive familiarity, at length assumed a serious aspect. It is certain that his intimacy with the Hornecks had an effect upon his tailor's bills, and that, to render his awkward fig-" But where is your justice? their cases are ure more attractive, he arrayed it in the costliest raiments of the day. In the summer of 1770, he made an excursion with his new friends to Paris. The following anecdote, which has been related of

"Consider, dear doctor, the girls are but young."-
"The younger the worse," I return him again;
"It shows that their habits are all dyed in
grain."

But then they're so handsome, one's bosom it
grieves.

"What signifies handsome, when people are thieves?"

hard."

"What signifies justice? I want the reward."

This was society for which Goldsmith was adapted, and in which he felt himself at home.

Joha

cumstances had prevented its appearance.
son, Burke, and Reynolds, and a host of Gold-
smith's distinguished friends were present, and
joined in the hearty laugh which was kept up
throughout the performance. Johnson's criticism
on this brilliant production will be long remem-
bered for its truth, as well as for its kindness
to the sensitive author; "I know of no comedy
for many years," he said, "that has so much ex-
hilarated an audience; that has answered so much
the great end of comedy-making an audience
merry."

He had no taste for stately grandeur; nor did he particularly distinguish himself in highly intellectual circles. Above all things he loathed the pompous Pecksniffs of the world, who, by dint of assurance and assumption, sometimes succeed in raising a commanding reputation. In the "Citizen of the World" he has given us a graphic picture of "a great man," from the mouth of his Chinese philosopher, which is worth quoting:-"I was yesterday invited by a gentleman to dinner, who promised that our entertainment should consist of a haunch of venison, a turtle, and a great man. I came, according to appointment. The In the commencement of the year 1774, Goldvenison was fine, the turtle good, but the great smith was surrounded by an accumulation of man insupportable. The moment I ventured to work, that would have tasked the energies of the speak I was at once contradicted with a snap. I strongest mind. He was behindhand with the attempted, by a second and third assault, to re-booksellers, and deeply in debt. His constitution trieve my lost reputation, but was still beat back was undermined partly by town dissipation, with confusion. I was resolved to attack him once partly, perhaps, by early privations. He was more from entrenchment, and turned the conver-over-worked and ill at ease; but he would not sation on the government of China; but even here give way. He rallied himself as well as he he asserted, snapped, and contradicted as before. could, and gave some entertainments in his chamHeavens thought I, this man pretends to know bers to Johnson and other friends. At length, on China even better than myself. I looked round the 25th of March, he was taken ill. With charto see who was on my side; but every eye was acteristic imprudence, he persisted in dosing himfixed in admiration on the great man; I there- self with James' powders, (a medicine he had fore, at last, thought proper to sit silent, and act been in the habit of taking,) notwithstanding the the pretty gentleman during the ensuing conver- expostulations of his medical attendants. Ha continued to grow weaker, and about half-past four on Monday morning, the 4th of April, 1774, he expired, in the forty-sixth year of his age. One affecting incident remains to be narrated.

sation."

To all his literary friends Goldsmith's blundering simplicity was a source of infinite amusement. His want of tact was everywhere apparent. He would tell stories in the wrong place, and retail" There was one mourner," writes Washington jokes of which he had forgotten the point. We find one or two amusing instances in Mr. Irving's biography. "Beauclerc was extremely apt to circulate stories at his expense, founded perhaps on some trivial incident, but dressed up with the embellishments of his sarcastic brain. One relates to a venerable dish of peas, served up at Sir Joshua's table, which should have been green, but were any other color. A wag suggested to Goldsmith, in a whisper, that they should be sent to Hammersmith, as that was the way to turn'em-green (Turnham Green). Goldsmith, delighted with the pun, endeavored to repeat it at Burke's table, but missed the point.

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That is the way to make 'em green,' said he. Nobody laughed. He perceived he was at fault. 'I mean that is the road to turn 'em green.' A dead pause, and a stare; whereupon, adds Beauclerc, he started up disconcerted, and abruptly left the table.' ** On another occasion, the poet and Beauclerc were seated, at the theatre, next to Lord Shelburne, the minister, whom political writers thought fit to nick-name Malagrida. 'Do you know,' said Goldsmith, to his lordship, in the course of conversation, that I never could conceive why they call you Malagrida, for Malagrida was a very good sort of man.'

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Irving, "whose enthusiasm for his memory, could
it have been foreseen, might have soothed the bit-
terness of death. After the coffin had been
screwed down, a lock of his hair was requested
for a lady, a particular friend, who wished to
preserve it as a remembrance. It was the beauti-
ful Mary Horneck, the Jessamy Bride. The cof-
fin was opened again, and a lock of hair cut off
which she cherished to her dying day. The lady,”
continues the biographer," survived almost to the
present day. Hazlitt met her at Northcote's
painting room, about twenty years since, as Mrs.
Gwyn, the widow of a General Gwyn of the
army.
She was at that time upwards of seventy
years of age. Still, he said, she was beautiful,
beautiful even in years. After she was gone,
Hazlitt remarked how handsome she still was.
I do not know,' said Northcote, why she is so
kind as to come to see me, except that I am
the last link in the chain that connects her with
all those she most esteemed when young-John-
son, Reynolds, Goldsmith-and remind her of
the most delightful period of her life.' "
Gwyn, so well known as Mary Horneck, and the
Jessamy Bride, died in 1840.

Mrs.

Having accompanied the biographers of Goldsmith through the principal scenes of his cheqIn 1773, the comedy of She stoops to Conquer; uered life, we may, perhaps, be allowed a conor, the Mistakes of a Night, was produced with cluding remark. There are few writers, it will triumphant success. It must have been written be admitted, who have achieved a wider popularnearly two years before, but many perplexing cir-ity, or who have exercised and maintained a more

dream,

general and permanent influence on the English | What has thy spirit bowed
intellectual character than the author of the In this thy winter?-what majestic cloud?
"Deserted Village."
At every stage of life he Vision!-which hides thy proud heart's dearest
Which makes reality unearthly seem,
And the true efforts of thy life dost shroud.
Thus fall the flowers that bloomed so fresh and fair,
All perishing in air.
That overcomes men's minds, and wills to be
Ah, the sad verity
The shadow o'er their paths of love and life,
The slayer of the fame whose ways are strife,
Where legions run the race in company.
O, certain light of truth, thy rays dispel
Hopes erst invincible!
Thus fled the mystic faith

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is a friend and monitor. If, as his biographers have suggested, he was the author of "Goody Two Shoes," and other nursery rhymes published by his frequent employer, Mr. Francis Newbury -and there is nothing unreasonable in the supposition that these drolleries, slight and trivial as they may appear, were really written by wise and thoughtful men-his sportive productions amuse our earliest infancy. His histories of England, Greece, and Rome, still form the basis of the historical knowledge communicated in hundreds of our schools; and if these histories are not remarkable for any deep research, their clear and lucid style admirably adapts them for the purposes of instruction. His selected essays, the Vicar of Wakefield," and the "Citizen of the World," are among the first volumes of English classics which, in youth and early manhood, are! commended to our attention, and they never fail to leave a permanent impression on the mind. In inaturer years they are recurred to with pleasure, and maxims and observations in daily use are taken from them. And when the meridian of life is passed, when the poetry of passion has lost its charm, and the mind is more readily attracted by sedate images and tranquil beauty, the "Deserted Village," and the "Traveller," are welcomed as favored friends, and referred to as models of all that is pure, correct, and good. To every stage and condition of life we maintain that Goldsmith has been a liberal benefactor. But, above all, he has left us the example of a life which, though defaced and deformed by many errors, was redeemed by so many virtues that we should be justified in rejoicing that he had lived even if he had not written a line.

THE DEATH OF FRANCIA.

BY W. BRAILSFORD.

When Raffaelle sent his famous St. Cecilia to Bologna, it was entrusted to the care of La Francia, who was his particular friend, to be unpacked and hung up. La Francia was old, and had for many years held a high rank in his profession; no sooner had he cast his eyes on the St. Cecilia, than, struck with despair at seeing his highest efforts so immeasurably outdone, he was seized with a deep melancholy, and died shortly after.-Diary of an Ennuyée.

As the long shadow falls

At fading eve, when some soft note recalls
The old home voices happy childhood heard,
Upon a heart that fame's high impulse stirred,
The presence of the beautiful appalls,

And casts all old day-dreams to Lethe's brim,
As fancies vague and dim.

O, weary heart of thine,

That is art's incense and its vital breath;
Thus died La Francia as some star outshone,
Over whose sphere a brighter light had grown,
And in the full eclipse had welcomed death,
Dimmed by the lustre of another's sheen,
And fading all unseen.

Yet is it well to die?

To let life's purpose yield the victory;
To die, and leave each passionate desire,
As some new tones half trembling on the lyre,
Or bud that folds its cup all silently;
Or wonder for an hour.
To die, and pass away like some frail flower

Faint not upon your way,

You who would hold o'er human hearts time's sway;
Is it not meet that those who yearn to wear
The cares and turmoils of life's working day,
Fame's immortality, should fairly bear
That thus when night proclaims her sable reign,
Their wishes prove not vain?

NEGRO-ENGLISH BIBLE.-A paper published in the Christian Examiner gives the following statement respecting this translation of the Bible. The version of the New Testament, printed by the British and Foreign Bible Society for the English negroes of Surinam, is a curiosity in its way. These negroes have no distinct language, but speak a strange lingo compounded of African words, or clipped and softened English words, and of violently treated Portuguese words. The society brought upon itself smart censures and much ridicule for the seemingly irreverent and ludicrous character of the volume they had published. The whole edition, save a few copies, was sent to Surinam. These copies are becoming scares, and at the sale of the Duke of Sussex's Library, one brought 37. 10s., though its original cost could not have exceeded two or three shillings. The annexed extracts, literally translated, will give a specimen as little offensive as any that can be found in the book. The word virgin is rendered wan njo ewenjo, i. e., one new wench.

The following verses are from Matthew v. :— "1. But when Jesus see the people, he after one mountain top, he go sit down, then disciple for

High genius! wherefore shouldst thou grieve, yet him come close by after him.

pine,

The laurel crown and votive wreath to wear?

Why falter in your path, and fear to share
One guerdon of the soul-fed art divine?

It is not thus that man's declared intent
Should lapse in banishment.

go

2. And he opened him mouth and learned them and talk.

Good is them, these the pretty in heart, because God's country is for them.

3. Good is it for them, these the sorry in heart, because heart for them so cheery."

From Chambers' Journal.

THE TWO EMPRESSES AND THE ARTIST.

"It is of no consequence," he said; "I have only to walk a little fast."

strength is failing, that we are utterly destitute. But the empress has not deigned to answer." "You will have an answer, rest assured. Ir was the middle of the year 1812, that year | Perhaps the memorial has not been yet placed the latter months of which witnessed the annihila- before her majesty. Give me your address, I beg tion of the French army on the plains of Russia. of you." And after taking a memorandum of it, Such a catastrophe was far from the thoughts of a and slipping into her hand all the money he had single inhabitant of Paris, when, one morning in about him, Redouté was soon rapidly making his the month of June, the celebrated artist Redouté way to the Place de la Concorde, where, just as was on his way to Malmaison to present to the he was stepping into a carriage, he discovered Empress Josephine some paintings of lilies. He that his purse was empty. was a great favorite with her, from his having devoted his pencil to flowers, of which she was passionately fond. In full enjoyment of the lovely morning, he was gayly crossing the garden of the Tuileries to get to the Place de la Concorde, where he intended taking a coach, when he saw a crowd eagerly hurrying in the direction of the walk by the water-side. The general cry, "The King of Rome!-the empress!" soon told him the object of attraction; and the artist quickened his steps, glad of the opportunity, thus by chance afforded him, of seeing the son of the emperor, the yet cradled child of fifteen months, whom so proud a destiny seemed to await.

Josephine, meanwhile, had been eagerly expecting the promised visit of the usually punctual artist, and was beginning to feel uneasy lest some accident had occurred to occasion the prolonged delay, when he was announced.

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I ought to scold you," she said, as she received with her wonted gentle grace the artist's offering, "for delaying the pleasure I feel in seeing this admirable drawing."

"I must throw myself upon your majesty's goodness to excuse me," answered Redouté rather inconsiderately. "I had never seen the King of It was indeed the King of Rome, in a little car-Rome, and to-day I have been fortunate enough to riage drawn by four snow-white goats, and the catch a glimpse of him." Josephine started, and Empress Maria-Louisa walking by its side. She Redouté, instantly aware of the awkwardness of was wrapped in a blue shawl, of a peculiar shade, mentioning the meeting, stopped suddenly in conknown to be her favorite color. The crowd fusion. had gathered outside the grating, around which they pressed closely; and as Redouté stopped to gaze with the rest, he saw standing near him a young woman with a child in her arms. The garb of both bespoke extreme poverty; but the child's face was glowing with health, whilst the cheeks of the mother were pale and emaciated, and from her sunken eyes fell tears, which she cared not either to wipe away or conceal.

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"I am very glad," said Josephine, making a strong effort to repress her emotion, "that you have seen the son of the emperor. Pray tell me where you saw him, and who was with him?" Redouté hesitated.

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Pray, pray go on," said she gently, but earnestly. He obeyed; and told her every particular he had observed, as well as what had delayed his arrival by obliging him to walk to Malmaison.

'My poor little one!-my darling!" she whispered as she pressed the child still closer to her "I see the great artist, as always happens, has bosom, " you have no carriage, my angel; no a feeling heart," said Josephine, her sympathy playthings no toys of any kind. For him abun-aroused for the poor woman. "If Napoleon did dance, pleasure, every joy of his age; for thee, but know the destitution of this child, born the desolation, suffering, poverty, hunger! What is same day, the same hour with his son! Be with he that he should be happier than you, darling? me to-morrow morning at nine o'clock; we will Both of you born the same day, the same hour! together visit this poor creature.” And the next I, as young as his mother, and loving you as fondly morning at nine o'clock Redouté was at Malmaias she loves him. But you have now no father, son; and an hour after, Josephine, undeterred by my poor babe; you have no father!" the dark, narrow, muddy passage, and the equally dark, damp stairs, increasing in steepness every step, had entered the wretched apartment, utterly bare of furniture, in the fifth story, inhabited by the widow of Charles Blanger.

The artist overheard these words of woe, and stood with his eyes fixed upon the poor young mother, in utter forgetfulness of the King of Rome. "Madame," said he, after a moment's hesitation, and in a low voice, "why do you not make known your situation to the empress?"

"To what purpose, sir?" cried the young woman somewhat bitterly. "Small compassion have the great ones of this world."

"But why not make the attempt ?"

"I have done so, sir, already. I wrote to the empress, and told her that my son was born the same day, the same hour, with the King of Rome. I told her, alas! that he has no father, that my

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Madame," " said Redouté, to whom Josephine had made signs to introduce her and the object of their visit, "you may rest assured that if the emperor knew your situation, he would give you relief; but there is now no necessity to trouble him. This lady, whom I have the honor to ac company, is good enough to say she will take you under her protection, and her protection is allsufficient."

"What a lovely boy!" cried Josephine, as the

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