so had an elected President, but what was place, and intellectually a little ridiculous, a constitutional King? King Amadeo

we should

say his duty was to do the evidently thought the same when he ab- work before bim as well as he knew how. dicated in Madrid because the aristocracy The case is much stronger with a Sov. insulted his wife ; and it is believed to ereign. A man may refuse to be a King, have been a dominant idea with the ex- and be blameless ; but if he is a King, be Einperor Pedro of Brazil. In the strange has, from the very nature of the function, drama enacted on Friday week at Petrop- accepted a perpetual contract, and should olis, many motives must have mingled, defend his Throne. If his people are in but among them, one of the strongest earnest, they will turn him out, and the must have been his often-expressed very object of his being is to prevent their thought,—“Why should I be a Sovereign changing the essential order of the State if the people wish to govern themselves ?”. on insufficient grounds, or in too light"My natural business,” he once said,

is hearted a way.

A bloodless revolution, to be a Professor. So he struck no unless, indeed, also a legal revolution, is blow, but went away quietly, leaving his a revolution which ought never to bave native country and his throne as a man occurred. All that horror of shedding might leave an estate to which he doubted blood in defence of a throne is unreason. his full right. It must have been a strange able. If it is right to defend a people scene that, altogether : the soldier threat- against their enemies, it is right to defend ening, the heirs bargaining, and the old them against their aberrations; and the King, feeblest of philosophers, speculating King is bound to consider treason an aberwhether if he could resist he would,-be. ration. It seems to us that on any other cause after all, you know, Kings have no theory the whole notion of trusteeship right to be unless they are desired. vanishes, and no man can utilize rightly

It is usual, we think, in our day to re- any power that has been pnt into his gard this condition of mind as rather a hands by inheritance or otherwise. A fine one. Such doubts, it is aid, show an millionaire may fancy others could utilize open mind, capable of sympathizing even his wealth better than himself ; but still, evith opposition. If that is so, it is a rare it has been given to him, and his business instance of correct thought producing is to use it as well as he can, not to give weakness, for we may be sure that no man it away, and so transfer his responsibility this sceptical of himself and the rightful- to others. That is shirking, and if we ness of his own position will ever do bis cared to describe most cases of abdication whole duty, especially that part of it, self- we should do it in that single and contudefence, which is often so essential'; but melious word. Let the King stick there we question whether the condition is ad- and die there, as any officer would if his mirable at all

. There is, we fancy, quite men were in mutiny, not go away because as much weakness as virtue in it, or intel- perchance the mutiny laws are severe, and lectual penness either. One likes a sen- the men are misguided, and possibly sometry to go on pacing, and not to be so ready body may be shot. There will be, or may to argue with the first comer whether be, thousands shot in Brazil because the sentries can be part of the divinely ap- Emperor failed to shoot a few soldiers, pointed scheme.

An incapacity of fully as there were thousands shot in Paris by believing is not a stredgth, but only a sign Cavaignac because Louis Philippo would of a mind which may in rare cases be not order the cannon to fire. Half the strong, but is more often flabby and un. scepticism about functions is nothing but decided. A man may think his position distaste for a duty which has become disor occupation wrong, and then he is bound agreeable, but which nevertheless, ought to leave it ; but if he does not think so, to be done. The man's hand has grown he should quell bis doubts, and do the too weak for the wheel, and therefore the duty he was set by Providence or his own ship is to be left rudderless. He can cling history to do. We should never blame on and die clinging, but that is exactly an officer for throwing up his commission what he will not do ; and in that absence rather than coniniand in a war he believed of the power of self sacrifice is the conto be utterly unjust ; but if he does not demnation of the thought, partly born of believe that, and only doubts that in com- self-distrust, partly of distrust of any higher manding in a war he is somehow out of power, which has paralyzed his energy....

We suppose it is thought which pro- never is praised, except by those who like duces these hesitations of our day. its results, and who, desiring change, see Shakespeare thought so, and he knew hn- that under the operation of this dread of man nature as we cannot pretend to do; responsibility, this uncertainty as to duty, but it sometimes occurs to us that it may this doubt whether anything but renuncianot be thought at all. There may be tion can

ever be right, no stable thing can forms of moral cowardice as independent exist. The man who does not believe in of thought as physical cowardice is some. his own functions, be they King's or times of the will, and almost as much ex- beadle's, is certain to be partially ueless, empt from responsibility. Men admire and though he may be sometimes an enstrength, and have studied it, and know lightened man unable not to see the ridiceven how to generate it ; but they have ulous aspect of his crown or his red coat, been neither so patient nor so observant he may be also, and usually is, much of a about weakness. We suspect that there moral coward. Nine times out of ten, the are a good many men like the poet Cow. work you have to do is work you ought per, who literally could not face his posi- not to shirk, and to leave that work untion as Clerk to the House of Lords, and, done because of faint inner hesitations, long before his mind had given way, threw especially if you never act on them when it up in a fit of self-distrusting horror. all is sinooth, is nothing but shirking, That was not a result of thought at all, which would be discreditable, but that the but, if he was sane, of a weakness exactly whole world is doubtful whether any man corresponding in the mind to cowardice in has a right to anything, even to the posithe physical nature. It is a quality to tion in which providence has obviously be lamented over, and sometimes pitied; placed him.-Spectator. but it is never praiseworthy. Indeed, it

AN ANNIVERSARY : DECEMBER 10, 1688.

BY JEAN INGELOW.

Two Gentlemen Meet near Whitehall..

First. Give you good-day.
Second.

Sir, it is so far good,
The day, that men have quiet. Wait awhile,
There is a wise old saw which counselleth ;
“ Praise the good day at e’en.”
First.

I see not why
More than these many days to look for stir.

Second. Except it may be this, by nine o' the clock
We two are forth, and lingering on our road,
Do look toward the windows of Whitehall,
A like attention is in other eyes.
What would we, can you tell ?
First.

What I would, ay,
To gather up wild rumors nigh their source
Concerning of the king. But I'll speak low,
And in especial having speech with you,
And of such king, he being—what he is.
There's something treacherous in their memory,
The whole

race

hath it. Troth 'twas ever good ;
In what concerns remembering of a foe,
And equal good as many have found cause
To know, for the forgetting of a friend.

Second. And the forgetting of a plighted word,
Speak low indeed ! But I do think their span
They have nearly measured out. 'Twas yesterday,

He called his second council ; of all such
O’ the Upper House as would attend on it.

First. Your father would be there.
Second

Ay, he was there,
With others.

First. But what for ?
Second.

Why, know you not ?
If future blame should be to throw it on them,
To ask advice, to have their countenance ;
To beg for arms, for men, for inoney, sir,
For anything ; he hath no heart this king.
But none would have believed this even of him,
Unless they had heard it. Ere the conference
Broke up, my Lord of Bedford sitting nigh,
To him the king turns, thinking not a whit
Of aught—distraught and pale—but his own need.
“My lord, you are a good man," quoth the king,
“You have great influence ; you might help me much
Now, in this exigency of affairs."
Then all did bold their breath and stare at him.
The duke kept silence for a little space,
And then he sighed. When he did speak, “ I am old,
I cannot help your majesty," quoth he,

I had indeed a son. The king on this
Was so struck dumb he could not speak nor move.
Nor lift his eyes.

Those were the tellingest words
Ever man said. Albeit his heart be cold
And hard ; fenced as with adamantine walls
Such arrows were of force to pierce them through.
He felt them.

First. Ah ! his soul did chide with him ;
He heard within, concerning that same vote,
Fatal, yet righteous on the Exclusion Bill,
What men say far and wide without. It was
Revenge for that, brought Russell to the block
(They are not of a treasonable house),
He suffered not for treason.

No.
Second.

I hold,
However, with the council that their first
Need, duty, and necessity, before
Kings, is for this poor country, this great town.
After dispersion did they so agree.
Peace, peace, po rising ; if it be possible
A quiet tiding over of the times ;
This makes it dutiful to England, best
Whatever else they mean, they should have met,
And I would tell you something more.
First.

What more ?
Second. The

qucen

is

gone. [A good many youths and boys moving restlessly about. Then they pass on a few

steps to an oyster-stall, where are several groups of women, all looking toward
Whitehall and talking together.
You, neighbor, out !

Ay, and I scarce know why:
But we know, gossip, we know very well.
The streets are wet yet. How it rained last night,

And rained and rained ! Our church right opposite
Was lighted, one might think the very ghosts
Risen from the bulging churchyard had been glad
To
go
inside for shelter.

Nay, that church,
Talk not on it to us. The blessed saints,
The images and relics of the saints,
Are mean there, ragged.

'Tis not oft so now. They want a Saint-smith for to tinker them.

What ! you unreverent maid.

The Fathers there Are kind though, many aged have their dole.

Forsooth, they have, poor creatures, there are few
To care for such, and many a one of them
As I've heard say dies of old age, alas !
And that's a shocking scandal. Ay, a shame,
And should be looked to.

[A ballad-singer draws near, selling broadsheets.

Sirs, and my masters, lo, the hue and cry
After the Father Petre.

First Gentleman. You were best
No more to name that priest, sell simpler wares.

Singer. Nay, cry you mercy, sir, I do but earn
My bread ; look how the 'prentice lads come op.

[Several broadsheets are sold.

Second (whispering). Ay, look ! and yet we tell you it were best To hide them. We shall make it best. See, bere.

[They both give her money.
Now sing some ditty of the olden time
And Daught with danger in't, you understand,
To rouse and anger any that attend.

Singer. Forsooth, I thank your honors heartily,
And shall. Who'll buy! Who'll bay ! here's goodly gear,
The lamentable ballad of “ Cold Comfort,"
All on a broadsheet printed plain. The knight,
And how they parted, he an''s lawful wife,
A gentlewoman that did love him dear.

Cry, cry, hope goeth by, and the last kind word's said ;
There's no light in his eyes to-night ; would I had died instead.

6. 'Twas my one brother. He loved none other,

Men said and swore it, but thee.'
“ O cold comfort and cold comfort,

That ever this thing should be.”
“ Right weariful day, right sinful fray,

All unassoiled lyeth he.
O cold comfort, ay, cold comfort,
Ye never had

wrong

from me."

Fall, fall, faded leaves all, that were in springtide sweet,
Yea, even so with you, lying low, trodden is joy of the feet.

“ Some did me flout, and the sword flew out,

Stark stares he up from the lea,”
“ O cold comfort and cold comfort

So truly I loved but thee,
I ever amain, will, for ye twain,

Cry on heaven's clemencie.
O cold comfort and cold comfort

Full bitter thy weird shall be.'

There's fear, fear in the high chambere, no more love nor peace,
No more light on the hearth to-night, nor till the last release.

" A hunted man on the welter wan,

Thy penance thou canst not flee,
O cold comfort and cold comfort

Y-witless of remedie.”
“But alone faire wife, alone faire wife,

Maun I sail the wild white sea ?”
Ay, cold comfort and cold comfort
This last look 'twixt thee and me.”

Heart, heart, break, for thy part, nought such woe may mend,
There's no sun, the sweet day's done ; break and so an end.

[As the singer moves on and the people follow they talk again.

First. Now one may speak, and not to other ears,
The Queen, sir ?
Second,

Ay, sir, she is gone indeed.
First. It took away my breath to hear the words.
When was it, and how was it?
Second.

Sir, 'twas thus,
After the council other counsellors
(Not Father Petre, he, retired to France,
Of this was blameless. Others of his kind,)
Wrought with the King and Queen but most with him ;
She being made of stouter stuff-in brief
She gave consent upon his plighted word,
That he would follow her, to take the boy
And that same night to fly. It was a night,
Oh such a night! when the poor lady stole
Disguised to the river edge.
First.

She had the prince.