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HERALDIC ANIMALS.

St. Paul's.

knees with her head bent forward on the placing it on one side, continued her hopeless ground. Before, however, I had time to plunge flight. But I was now close on her, and having the knife into her back, she rose unexpectedly become desperate with heat and fever, I sprang and made off with a staggering pace, but only on her downwards, risking all, and thrust the to fall prostrate a gunshot farther on. I now knife into her heart. "Ah, la pauvre bête ! considered there was no danger, and going up to mais je lui aurais fait grâce," said Henri Jesson, the animal, I prepared with confidence to end the one of the guests, who felt compassion for the adventure. It was here I learnt that lesson of poor sow, so tender for a helpless being, even in which I have since realised the importance on the trying moment of her own extremity. "Et many an occasion namely, to distrust the ap- moi, Messieurs," replied the Count, "qui avais pearances of exhaustion in powerful and dan- perdu deux dents!" And with this the Count gerous animals. On bending over this appar- raised his upper lip, and exhibited the vacant ently dead sow, to ascertain the precise wherea- space once occupied by two front teeth, knocked bouts of her mortal wound, she started up sud-out in his collision with the gentle sow. denly, and dealing me with her head a blow on the mouth that sent me reeling, she bolted off full gallop and left me unconscious on the Among the wild aniground. On recovering the shock, which was mals are elephants, lions, tigers, wolves, bears, a most severe one, I perceived the sow had again antelopes, stags, lynxes, porcupines, foxes, and relaxed in her pace, and I rushed after her wild boars, not to mention hogs and pigs and breathing rage and vengeance. Fortunately, a piglings innumerable, long-tailed, short-tailed, team of bullocks had passed in the interval, and and curly-tailed. Concerning all these denizens diverted her from the marshes-where I should of the forest, the most remarkable thing is the assuredly have lost her—and at the same time a unanimity that reigns among them in regard to shepherd and his dog had intercepted her return one particular matter; what I mean is, that, to the cover. She had consequently struck di- with an occasional exception in favour of the rectly into the high road, which was indeed her pigs and piglings, one and all of them stand on only alternative, unless she had faced round in their hind legs. Whatever else they do, they are defiance of my drawn and shining knife. I had sure to do that; with their fore feet and paws no time to reload, for though the sow ran limp- they may push against some shield or hatchment, ing, her pace was rapid enough to try my ut- they may grasp as best they can a dagger or a most wind, and I was compelled at last to drop battle-axe, or flourish their tails aloft and expand my piece in order to run more lightly. After their nostrils as if cager for the fight; but under some twenty minutes of this exercise, a party of any circumstances they decline to settle down on field labourers approached in the opposite direc- all fours, so that I am forced to conclude that the tion, and the sow turned off immediately into the position which is natural to their congeners is open fallows. Here my strength began to fail, foreign to them. With regard to some of them but I still held on, encouraged by the sight on there are certain cabalistic expressions used one side of some horses feeding, and, on the other, which it is possible, if one could get at their sigof a straw cottage. These objects seemed to pre-nification, would throw some light on their hisvent the sow from diverging, and I was able to tory. Thus, concerning a leopard with spots on keep her in view for a long distance ahead. She his body as big as pancakes, it is gravely stated had now decidedly the best of it, I being reduced that he is " countercompony of the first and secto a walking pace and she being out of sight. ond." If the reader can solve the mystery inPresently, however, I saw her running back to- volved in that expression he is a much cleverer wards me, having been turned, I presume, by fellow than I am." Again, a porcupine poussetsome object which I was too distant to perceive. ting, who has had his quills combed down I thought it was her intention to attack me, in- smooth and sleek, is described as “ stead of which she turned off obliquely and fol- eight," which expression is also too crabbed for gyronny of lowed an open cartway leading to the entrance of my powers of penetration. A lion who seems to a large farm. Here she began to run more stand ill at ease, as though on one leg rather faintly, and I gained upon her sensibly. She than two, presents an enigma somewhat less difthen stopped for an instant, but seemed immedi- ficult; concerning him it is said, "lions gamb ately to recover her strength and proceeded to erased in bend within a boudure," by which I limp on with fresh courage. Another moment understand some accident or other to the anibrought her to the farm-yard, into which she ran mal's leg; gamb means leg, of course, and the without hesitation and I followed close behind erasure, which must be an injury of some kind, her. A pathway through the farm led to low may have been consequent on the brute's having ground visible from the entrance. Into this put his foot into chancery somehow or other, as pathway the sow struck forthwith, and you will seems to me to be intimated by the term " within imagine my horror on perceiving right before her a boudure." In the case of one of the lynxes, I on the ground an infant of tender years, sitting find the expressions made use of to describe him, heedless of all peril, alone at play. The sow ran or it may be something belonging to him, are straight at the child, and I closed my eyes in paina bend cotised sa," the purport and propriety as already in fincy I saw it dashed into the air, of which, I am sorry to say, I am not lynx-eyed or killed and mangled on the spot. Not so, gen- enough to discover.

tlemen. She took it up most gently, and softly |

Leisure Hour.

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DOCTOR JACOB. By M. Betham Edwards. Boston: Roberts Brothers.

HAPPY THOUGHTS. By F. C. Burnand. Boston: Roberts Brothers.

THE POETICAL WRITINGS OF FITZ-GREENE HALLECK, with Extracts from those of Joseph Rodman Drake. Edited by James Grant Wilson. New York: D. Appleton & Co.

PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY

LITTELL & GAY, BOSTON.

TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION.

FOR EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. But we do not prepay postage on less than a year, nor where we have to pay commission for forwarding the money.

Price of the First Series, in Cloth, 36 volumes, 90 dollars.

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Any Volume Bound, 3 dollars; Unbound, 2 dollars. The sets, or volumes, will be sent at the expense of the publishers.

PREMIUMS FOR CLUBS.

For 5 new subscribers ($40.), a sixth copy; or a set of HORNE'S INTRODUCTION TO THE BIBLE, unabridged, in 4 large volumes, cloth, price $10; or any 5 of the back volumes of the LIVING AGE, in numbers, price $10.

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Oh, holy prompting of the heart,
That bids us choose the better part,
But most in Heaven's mercy trust!
For mercy every night we pray;

We daily ask that Heaven's decree
May lightly fall on us, as we
Our duty to our fellows pay.
But in our daily life we see

Great Sin that stalks around us still,
And yet we show nor way nor will
To prove our Christian charity.
Shall fellow-creatures fall away,

And we put forth no hand to save

From death, and death beyond the grave, God's images in kindred clay? Like Cain, we ask that question still "Our brother's keeper how are we?" And though we murder not as he, Our Abels by neglect we kill. The City's alleys, foul and damp,

Show sights to give the angels awe,
Sad rebels 'gainst the Christian law,
Defacements of the Almighty stamp!
These are our sisters on the earth,

Our sisters in the world to come;
Yet our fraternal hearts are dumb,

And feel no pulse of foster-birth.
We shrug our shoulders when we meet,
Our garments gather lest we touch;
We will not own that any such
Are more than dust below our feet.
We mutter in 'side-whispered talk,

"How dreadful is this City's sin !"
We-in our wealth of warmth within;
They pacing wearily the walk,
With awful eyes, and hungry glare,
Still seeking what they may devour,
With more of horror in an hour
Than we in half a life could bear.
Whose is the greater sin, or ours,

Or theirs? We are not tried as they, Whose living deaths from day to day Make torture of those even hours, Which gracious Heaven permits to glide In quiet comfort o'er our heads, Who, sleeping soft in downy beds, Regard our easy lot with pride; As if ourselves that lot had made,

Had gained it by our proper skill,
And Heaven had merely to fulfil
The claims consistent with our grade.
As if, assured of granted grace,

We knew our sins already shriven;
And, holding heritage in Heaven,
But waited to assume our place.
Christians of course, but all our years
Forgetful of our Saviour's law,
Who, when the Magdalen He saw
Washing His feet with bitter tears,

Forgave her sin, and changed her lot,
And raised her up, and bade her go
In peace, and taught us all below
A lesson we have nigh forgot.

And, "always with us," still we find

These ever-present at our side,

Yet from our hearts the truth we hide, That we and they are Christian-kind. Ah, that His light would shine again, To show us where our duty lies, And wake compassion in our days Like that which shone from His at Nain! Churchman's Family Magazine.

THE PROUDEST LADY.

THE Queen is proud on her throne,
And proud are her maids so fine,
But the proudest lady that ever was known,
Is a little lady of mine.

And oh! she flouts me, she flouts me !
And spurns, and scorns, and scouts me !
Though I drop on my knee and sue for grace,
And beg and beseech with the saddest face,

Still ever the same she doubts me.

She is seven by the calendar,

A lily's almost as tall;

But ah! this little lady's by far

The proudest lady of all.

It's her sport and pleasure to flout me!

To spurn, and scorn, and scout me!

But ah! I've a notion it's nought but play,

And that, say what she will and feign what she

may,

She can't well do without me.

When she rides on her nag, away,
By park, and road, and river,
In a little hat, so jaunty and gay,

Oh! then she's prouder than ever!
And oh ! what faces, what faces!
What petulant, pert grimaces!
Why, the very pony prances and winks,
And tosses his head, and plainly thinks

He may ape her airs and graces.
But at times like a pleasant tune,

A sweeter mood o'ertakes her;
Oh! then she's sunny as skies of June,

And all her pride forsakes her.
Oh! she dances around me so fairly!
Oh! her laugh rings out so rarely!
Oh! she coaxes, and nestles, and purrs, and

pries,

In my puzzled face with her two great eyes,
And owns she loves me dearly.

Ay, the Queen is proud on her throne,
And proud are her maids so fine;
But the proudest lady that ever was known,
Is this little lady of mine.

Good lack! she flouts me, she flouts me !
She spurns, and scorns, and scouts me!
But ah! I've a notion it's nought but play,
And that, say what she will and think what she

may,

She can't well do without me.

From The Quarterly Review.

A Memoir of the Right Hon. Hugh Elliot. By the Countess of Minto. Edinburgh, 1868.

WE should be sorry to chill the hopes or cloud the prospects of a distinguished and popular class of public servants, but we are afraid that diplomacy has seen its best days; and that if steam, electricity, and responsible government have not proved its ruin, they are rapidly accelerating its decline. An ambassador at a corrupt or despotic Court, several days' or weeks' journey from his own country, had ample scope for the display of tact, insight into character, knowledge of affairs, and even statesmanship. He had to deal with favourites, as well as with ministers of state. He had to humour caprices, and watch for happy moments - the mollia tempora fandi -as well as to draw up prototols or dictate despatches. Instead of telegraphing for instructions, he was obliged to act upon his own judgment and responsibility on the spur of the occasion, when haply the fate of kingdoms depended on the success or failure of an intrigue. It was a mistress, Madame de Pompadour, irritated by some contemptuous expressions imprudently let drop by Frederic the Great, that induced France to join the combination against him in the Seven Years' War; and many similar instances might be adduced in favour of Voltaire's well-known theory of causation in history that great events are brought about by small things. When empires were ruled by loose or capricious women, there were no bounds to the influence which an accomplished and quick-witted man of the world might exercise; and prior to the French Revolution a Court or Government controlled by reason, or anything that could be called policy, was rather the exception than the rule. Many men, in all nations, long for peace,' says Carlyle, speaking of 1759; but there are Three Women at the top of the world who do not: their wrath, various in quality, is great in quantity, and disasters do the reverse of appeasing.' These three women were Elizabeth of Russia, Maria Theresa, and Madame Pompa

dour.

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Ah, my friend! [writes Madame du Barri] who would have told me in my fifteenth year

that the day would come when I should be obliged to mix diplomacy with every action of my life? There were moments when, dismissing the anxieties caused me by these trickeries,

I

burst out laughing to think that I was directing the most important interests in concert with foreign ambassadors and ministers. Behold me surrounded by the Pope's Nuncio, Monseignor Giraud, Archbishop of Damas; the Count of Marcy Argenteau, Austrian Ambassador; the English Ambassador, Viscount Stormont; M. de Monecnigo; and all the other great and petty members of the diplomatic body. How sly I was with that Moncenigo, who was sly in everything. How reserved I was with Lord Stormont, who phlegmatically tried to win me over to the interests of England. He was eternally hanging about me. I could not guess the reason of his tiresome assiduity. At last, one fine day, he told me that his Court desired to give me proofs of its good-will, that it contemplated offering me an annual present worthy of it and me. "My Lord," I replied, in a severe tone, honours with his friendship is rich enough to "the woman whom the King of France make presents, and esteems herself sufficiently

to receive none !"''

A pupil in the Chesterfield school would have avoided such a blunder, and this was the school in which the most renowned diplomatists of the eighteenth century were brought up. The Prince de Broglie, who dates (and, we think, a little antedates) the subversive change in diplomacy from the French Revolution, speaks thus of its professors or practitioners prior to 1789:

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Their memory was a gallery of living portraits, and their conversation, studded over with the most august names, but marked by a discreet malignity, resembled that which is often carried on in the vestibule about the habitués of the château. There is nothing offensive in such a comparison. During a régime under which kings represented the entire State, faithful domestic service without meanness was a natural form of patriotism. A large portion of their wandering lives was also spent in the pursuit of sensuality and elegance, in sumptuous fêtes, where they were hosts and guests by turns, wherever they pitched their tents. They gave the signal for pleasure. Strange pastime, it will nations. be said, for the depositaries of the destinies of But this judgment would be as superficial as pedantic; for if their policy was frivolous, their frivolity was still oftener political These diversions were but an occasion for en.

which give piquancy to private correspondence or memoirs: that the old school are practically extinct already; and that consequently a real service to historical and biographical literature is rendered by any one who rescues from oblivion an active and varied diplomatic career of the olden time. Such a career cannot fail to illustrate the manners and morals as well as the political annals of the period; and such a career

countering on the pacific territory of a salon, in the midst of songs, flowers, and festivity, the rival of the eve become the doubtful friend of the morning; to observe him when off his guard in the whirl of dissipation, and by the charm of private relations to soften the too rude conduct, and deaden the too clashing contact, of public interests. Besides, what ease in sustaining the weight of the heaviest affairs! what art in untying the knots! What reserve, exempt from restraint in the laisser-aller of a trifling or animated conversation! What strategy hid- pre-eminently fitted to amuse and instruct, den under the mask of good-humour! What is now before us in A Memoir of the finesse in insinuation! What vivacity in the Right Hon. Hugh Elliot,' by the Countess repartee! Entrusted to these light hands, the of Minto. stormy communication of nations retained to the very eve of armed conflict, and resumed on the very morrow of battle, the character of graceful amenity befitting the commerce of men of high rank and similar education.'*

The subject of this memoir was by no means a model diplomatist. Some of his best as well as his exceptionable qualities were ill-suited to the vocation. He was high-spirited, impulsive, and imprudent, as

He adds, with something like a sigh of well as clear-sighted, sagacious, and quick

regret:

Our generation has seen the wrecks of this artificial and brilliant group, to which the Restoration of 1815 brought back some days of transitory éclat. The spectacle was curious, and I like to recall the memory of it, more especially now that this product of another age of

the world has been buried forever under successive layers of revolutions.'

In the course of a valuable paper on The Diplomatic Service,' Sir Henry Bulwer plausibly contends that the result of the alteration should be increased care in the choice of our diplomatic agents, and a marked improvement in their character:

The affairs which were lispingly discussed in the lady's chamber are now seriously debated in the representative assembly; and the secrets timidly uttered round the fauteuil of the Minister are publicly printed in the daily papers. The nation is no longer circumscribed within the limits of a Court. It is necessary, then, that diplomacy should become acquainted with the nation itself.'

This raises a grave and difficult question upon which we are not at present disposed to enter. The sole point to which we wish to direct attention is that the new school rarely requiring, will rarely be chosen for, the personal qualities which create interest or be frequently placed in circumstances * La Diplomatie et Le Droit Nouveau.' Par Al

bert de Broglie. Paris, 1868.

witted. His self-indulgent habits, with his incurable irregularity, formed a grave drawback to his imperturbable presence of mind, his chivalrous courage, his varied acquirements, his ready wit, his powers of conversation, and his admitted charm of manner. But if this sort of man occasionally gets into difficulties by overstepping the conven

tional line, he has also methods of his own for getting out of them; and his biography, besides being the more interesting in itself, is so much the better adapted for placing in broad relief the peculiarities of the Courts to which he was successively accredited.

His character being of this composite sort, the duty of evolving and portraying it has fortunately been undertaken by a granddaughter who has inherited its brightest points, is on a par with him in fancy, feeling, and accomplishments, can follow him in his most discursive flights, and appreciate him in his most erratic moods. Her materials, independent of family traditions and reminiscences, consist of two portions or classes of correspondence: the first, composed of letters written by or relating to Mr. Elliot; the second, of letters private and official, written to him at dif ferent periods. These fill several volumes, and the nicest discrimination was required in dealing with them; but not only are the selections made with excellent judgment and unimpeachable good taste,they are pointed by reflections, and connected by

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