OUR MESS. TOM BURKE OF "OURS." « * '// /-/,• I M B U II K E OF "OURS." CHARLES LEVER. (&arrg Eorvequer.) WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS ON STKEL, BY H. K. BROWNE. ^ IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. DUBLIN WILLIAM CURRY, JUN. AND COMPANY. WILLIAM S. ORR AND CO. LONDON. FRASER AND CO. EDINBURGH, L844. 11C9 Q O * » < . . . , * • *■ DUBLIN I'HIKTKD BY J. 8. fOLDS, AHD sow ■'». Bochelor'i-walk. ^ • \ TO MISS EDGE¥0R T H. Madam, This weak attempt to depict the military life of France,, during the brief but glorious period of the empire, I beg to dedicate to you. Had the scene of tin's, like that of my former books, been laid chiefly in Ireland, I should have felt too sensibly my own inferiority, to venture on the presumption of such a step. As it is, I never was more con- scious of the demerits of my volume than when inscribing it to you ; but I cannot resist the temptation of being, even thus, associated with a name, the first Jn my country's literature. Another motive I will not conceal — the ardent desire I have to assure you, that, amid the thousands you have made better, and wiser, and happier, by your writings, you cannot count one who feels more proudly the common tie of country with you, nor more sincerely admires your goodness, and your genius, than Your devoted and obedient servant, CHARLES J. LEVER. Temple- Ojjue, November 25, 1S43. V 4 CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Myself I'AGK 5 CHAPTER II. *> r> Darby— "The Blast" • V CHAPTER III, The Departure CHAPTER IV. ^ My Wanderings 15 24 33 <1 The Cabin CHAPTER V. 38 1 My Education CHAPTER VI. 4G CHAPTER VII. & Kevin-street 52 CHAPTER VIII. No. 39, and its Frequenters 56 CHAPTER IX. The Frenchman's Story 65 CHAPTER X. The Churchyard 71 Vlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER XI. PACK Too Late . . . . . .7 CHAPTER XII. A Character . . . . . .89 CHATTER XIII. An Unlooked-for Visitor . . . .97 CHATTER XIV. The Gaol . . . . . .103 CHATTER XV. 'J' 1 ! Castle ...... 107 CHATTER XVI. The Bail . . . . . .112 CHATTER XVII. Mr. Basset's Dwelling . . . . . 11G CHATTER XVIII. Tin; Captain's Quarters ..... 122 CHAPTER XIX. The Quarrel . . . . . .129 CHATTER XX. • The Flig'it ... 13G CHATTER XXI. The " Ecole Mil taire" . . . . .149 CONTENTS, 1* CHAPTER XXII. The " Tuileries" in 1803 . • • 1; ' 7 CHAPTER XXIII. A Surprise CHAPTER XXX. A " Warning" . r.vfiK Ifil CHAPTER XXIV. The " Pavilion de Flore" • • • . 1C7 CHAPTER XXV. The Supper at " Beauvilliers" . . • .1/4 CHAPTER XXVI. The " Two Visits" . . • • .179 CHAPTER XXVII. The March to Versailles .... 188 CHAPTER XXVIII. The Park of Versailles . . • • .193 CHAPTER XXIX. La Rose de Provence . 203 210 CHAPTER XXXI. The "Chateau" . . . 217 CHAPTER XXXII. " The Chateau D'Ancre" . • * 225 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXXIII. PAGE The " Temple" . . . . .232 CHAPTER XXXIV. The "Chouans" ..... 239 CHAPTER XXXV. The Reign of Terror under the Consulate . . . 246 CHAPTER XXXVI. The " Palais de Justice'' . . . 257 CHAPTER XXXVII. The "Trial" . . . . . .263 CHAPTER XXXVIII. " The Cuirassier" ..... 272 CHAPTER XXXIX. A Morning at " the Tuileries" .... 277 CHAPTER XL. A Night in the Tuileries Gardens . . . 289 CHAPTER XLI. A Story of the '92 . . . . .298 CHAPTER XEII. I Ball of the Marshals . . sn CHAPTER XLIIT. The March on the Danube . . .321 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER XLIV. PAOF. The Canteen . . . • . .328 CHAPTER XLV. The " Vivandiere of the Fourth" .... 335 CHAPTER XLVI. The Sick Leave . . • ■ .340 CHAPTER XLVI I. Lintz . . • • • . 34G CHAPTER XEVI1I. Austcrlitz ... 353 CHAPTER XLIX. The Field at Midnight . • • .301 '.-, LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Minette in attendance on Pioehe Law and Physic in the Chamber of Death . The Curse ..... The Wondrous effects of a Piper's Pipe of Tobacco The Struggle ..... Saladin dancetb ;i lively measure Tom receives a strange Visitor Peeping Tom . May good Digestion wait on Appetite Darby exchanges compliments with a Soldier Tom distinguishes himself Monsieur Crillac's Saloon . The Rose of Proveiu-o The Lady of the Lake . The Chouans ..... Capture of the Red Beard . The Templars . . The Witness ...... Napoleon shows Tom the door The Scene shifted . The big Piochecaughl indulging in delicacies Tom masters the Maitre d'Armes Murat ami Mademoiselle Minette The Bivouac after the Battle Frontispiece. . 11 32 . 33 43 . 90 91 . 117 120 . 131 154 . 1G.5 170 . 2)3 223 . 223 233 . 2GG 281 . 290 293 . 332 337 . 361 OUR MESS. BY HARRY LORREQUER. TOM BURKE OF " U It S. »3 " The march — the muster — and the night Around the bivouack — The columns moving to the fight — The hot and fierce attack — The cheering charge — the storming cry — The pealing thunder's roar, That rings from red artillery O'er fields of blood and gore — These were his glory * The Outlaw. J1F.6S, NO. XIV VOL. II. PREFATORY EPISTLE FROM MR. BURKE. My ©ear O'Flaherty — It seems that I am to be the " next devoured." Well, be it so ; my story, such as it is, you shall have. One only con- dition would I bargain for — that you seriously disabuse your readers of the notion, that the life before them was one of either much pleasure, or profit. I might moralize a little here about neglected opportunities and mistaken opinions ; but as I am about to present you with my narrative, the moral — if there be one — need not be anticipated. I believe I have nothing else to premise, save that if my tale have little wit, it has some warning ; and as Bob Lambert observed to the hangman who soaped the rope for his execution, " even that same's a comfort." If our friend Lorrequer, then, will as kindly facilitate my debut, I give him free liberty to " cut me down " when he likes, and am, Yours, as ever, Tom Burke. To T. O'Flaherty, Esq. Sec. " Our Mess." TOM BURKE OF "OURS." CHAPTER I. MYSELF. It was at the close of a cold, raw day in January — no matter for the year — that the Galway mail was seen to wind its slow course through that long and dull plain that skirts the Shannon, as you approach the " sweet town of Athlon e." The reeking box-coats and dripping umbrellas that hung down on every side bespoke a day of heavy rain, while the splashed and mud-stained panels of the coach bore token of cut-up roads, which the jaded and toil-worn horses amply confirmed. If the outsides, with hats pressed firmly down, and heads bent against the cutting wind, presented an aspect far from comfortable, those within, who peeped with difficulty through the dim glass, had little to charm the eye; their flannel nightcaps and red comforters were only to be seen at rare intervals, as they gazed on the dreary prospect, and then sunk back into the coach, to con over their moody thoughts, or if fortunate, perhaps to doze. In the rumble, with the guard, rode one, whose burly figure and rosy cheeks seemed to feel no touch of the inclement wind that made his companions crouch. An oiled-silk foraging-cap, fastened beneath the chin, and a large mantle of blue cloth bespoke him a soldier, if even the assured tone of his voice, and a certain easy carriage of his head, had not conveyed to the acute observer the same information. Unsubdued in spirit, undepressed in mind either by the long day of pouring rain, or the melancholy outline of country on every side, his dark eye flashed as brightly from beneath the brim of his cap, and his ruddy face beamed as cheerily, as though nature had put forth her every charm of weather and scenery to greet and delight him. Now inquiring of the guard of the various persons whose property lay on either side — the name of some poor hamlet, or some humble village, — now humming to himself some stray verse of an old cam- paigning song, he passed his time, diversifying these amusements by a courteous salute to a gaping country girl, as with unmeaning look she OUR MESS. stared at the passing coach. But his principal occupation seemed to consist in retaining one wing of his wide cloak around the figure of a little boy, who lav asleep beside him, and whose head jogged heavily against his arm with every motion of the coach. D " And so that's Athlone, yonder, you tell me," said the captain, for such he was. " The sweet town of Athlone, ochone ! Well, it might be worse. I've passed ten years in Africa — on the burning coast, as they call it : you never light a fire to cook your victuals, but only lay them before the sun for ten minutes, game something less, and the joint's done; all true, by Jove! Lie still, my young friend, or you'll heave us both over! And whereabouts does he live, guard ?" " Something like a mile and a half from here," replied the gruff' guard. " Poor little fellow, he's sleeping it out well. They certainly don't take over much care of him, or they'd never have sent him on the top of a coach, in weather like this, without even a great coat to cover him. I say, Tom, my lad, wake up, you're not far from home now. Are you dreaming of the plumb-pudding, and the pony, and the big spaniel — eh ?" "Whisht!" said the guard, in a low whisper. "The chap's father is dying, and they've sent for him from school to see him." A loud blast of the horn now awoke me thoroughly from the half- dreamy slumber in which I had listened to the previous dialogue, and I sat up and looked about me. Yes, reader, my unworthy self it was, who was then indulging in as pleasant a dream of home and holidays as ever blessed even a schoolboy's vigils. Though my eyes were open, it was some minutes before I could rally myself to understand where I was, and with what object. My senses were blunted by cold, and my drenched limbs were cramped and stiffened ; for the worthy captain, to whose humanity I owed the share of his cloak, had only joined the coach late in the day, and during the whole morning I had been exposed to the most pitiless downpour of rain and sleet. " Here you are !" said the rough guard, as the coach drew up to let me down. " No need of blowing the horn here, I suppose." Tliis was said in allusion to the miserable appearance of the ruined cabin that figured as my father's gate lodge, where some naked chil- dren were seen standing before the door, looking with astonishment at the coach and passengers. " Well, good-by, my little man. I hope you'll find the governor better. Give him my respects ; and, hark ye, if ever you come over to Athlone don't forget to come and see me — Captain Bubbleton — George Frederic Augustus Bubbleton, 45th regiment, or when at home, Little Bubbleton, Herts and Bungalow Hut, in the Carnatic ; that's the mark ; so good-by — good-by." I waved my hand to hum in adieu, and then turned to enter the gate. " Well, Frency," said I to a half-dressed, wild-looking figure that rushed out t<> lift the gate open, for the hinges had been long broken, and it was attached to the piei by some yards of strong rope, " how is my father ?" TOM BURKE OF "OURS." 7: A gloomy nod and a discouraging sign with his open hanu, was the only reply. " Is there any hope ?" said I faintly. " Sorrow one of me knows. I darn't go near the house. I was sarved with notice to quit a month ago, and they tell him I'm gone. Oh, vo — vo ! what's to become of us all !" I threw the bag, which contained my humble wardrobe, on my shoul- der, and, without waiting for further questioning, walked forward. Night was falling fast, and nothing short of my intimacy with the place from infancy could have enabled me to find my way. The avenue, from long neglect and disuse, was completely obliterated ; the fences were broken up to burn ; the young trees had mostly shared the same fate ; the cattle strayed at will through the plantations, and all bespoke utter ruin and destruction. If the scene around me was sad, it only the better suited my own heart. I was returning to a home where I had never heard the voice of kindness or affection ; where one fond word, one look of welcome had never met me. I was returning, not to receive the last blessing of a loving parent, but merely sent for, as a necessary ceremony on the occasion. And perhaps there was a mock propriety in inviting me once more to the house which I was never to revisit. My father, a widower for many years, had bestowed all his affection on my elder brother, to whom so much of his property as had escaped the general wreck was to descend. He had been sent to Eton under the guidance of a private tutor, while an obscure Dublin school was deemed good enough for me. For him every nerve was strained to supply all his boyish extravagance, and enable him to compete with the sons of men of high rank and fortune, whose names, mentioned in his letters home, were an ample recompense for all the lavish expenditure their intimacy entailed. My letters were few and brief; their unvaried theme, the delay in the last quarter's payment, or the unfurnished condition of my little trunk, which more than once exposed me to the taunts of my schoolfellows. He was a fair and delicate boy, timid in manner, and retiring in disposition ; I a browned-faced varlet, who knew every one from the herd to the high-sheriff. To him the servants were directed to look up as the head of the house, while I was consigned either to total neglect, or the attentions of those who only figured as supernumeraries in our army list. Yet, with all these sources of jealousy between us, we loved each other ^enderly. George pitied "poor Tommy," as he called me, and for that very pity my heart clung to him. He would often undertake to plead my cause for those bolder infractions his gentle nature never ventured on ; and it was only when from long association with boys of superior rank, whose habits and opinions he believed to be standards for his imitation, that at length a feeling of estrangement grew up between us, and we learned to look somewhat coldly on each other. From these brief details it will not be wondered at if 1 turned home- ward with a heavy heart. From the hour I received the letter of my recall — which was written by my father's attorney in most concise and 8 OUR MESS. legal phrase — I hail scarcely ceased to shed tears ; for so it is, there is something in the very thought of being left an orphan, friendless and unprotected, quite distinct from the loss of affection and kindness, which overwhelms the young heart with a very flood of wretchedness ; besides, a stray word or two of kindness had now and then escaped my father towards me, and I treasured these up as my richest pos- session. I thought of them over and over ; many a lonely night, when my heart has been low and sinking, I repeated them to my- self, like talismans against grief, and when I slept my dreams would dwell on them, and make my waking happy. As I issued from a dark copse of beech trees the indistinct outline of the old house met my eye. I could trace the high-pitched roof, the tall and pointed gables, against the sky ; and with a strange sense of undetinable fear beheld a solitary light that twinkled from the window of an upper room, where my father lay ; the remainder of the building was in deep shadow. I mounted the long flight of stone steps that led to what once had been a terrace, but the ballustrades were broken many a year ago, and even the heavy granite stone had been smashed in several places. The hall-door lay wide open, and the hall itself had no other light save such as the flickering of a wood fire afforded, as its uncertain flashes fell upon the dark wainscot and the floor. I had just recognised the grim, old-fashioned portraits that covered the walls, when my eye was attracted by a figure near the fire. I approached, and beheld an old man doubled with age, his bleared eyes were bent upon the wood embers, which he was trying to rake together with a stick. His clothes bespoke the most miserable poverty, and afforded no protection against the cold and cutting blast. He was croning some old song to himself as I drew near, and paid no attention to me. I moved round so as to let the light fall on his face, and then perceived it was old Lanty, as he was called. Poor fellow! age and neglect had changed him sadly since I had seen him last. He had been the huntsman of the family for two generations, but having some- how displeased my father one day at the cover, he rode at him and struck him on the head with his loaded whip. The man fell senseless from his horse, and was carried home. A few days, however, enabled him to rally and be about again, but his senses had left him for ever. All recollection of the unlucky circumstance had faded from his mind, and his rambling thoughts dwelt on his old pursuits, so that he passed his days about the stables, looking after the horses, and giving direc- tions about them. Latterly he had become too infirm for this, and never left his own cabin ; but now, from some strange cause, he had coine up to " the house," and was sitting by the fire as I found him. They who know Ireland will acknowledge the strange impulse which at the approach of death seems to excite the people to congregate about the house of mourning. The passion for deep and powerful excitement, the most remarkable feature in their complex nature, seems to revel in the details of sorrow and suffering. Not content even with the tragedy before them, they call in the aid of superstition to heighten TOM PDUKK OF " OPUS." 9 the awfulness of the scene, and every story of ghost and banshee is conned over in tones that need not the occasion to make them thrill upon the heart. At such a time the deepest workings of their wild spirits are revealed. Their grief is low and sorrow-struck, or it is loud and passionate : now breaking into some plaintive wail over the virtues of the departed ; now bursting into a frenzied appeal to the Father of Mercies, as to the justice of recalling those from earth who were its blessing ; while, stranger than all, a dash of reckless merriment will break in upon the gloom, but it is like the red lightning through the storm, that as it rends the cloud, only displays the havoc and desolation around, and at its parting leaves even a blacker darkness behind it. From my infancy I had been familiar with scenes of this kind ; ana my habit of stealing away unobserved from home to witness a country wake had endeared me much to the country people, who felt this no small kindness from " the master's son." Somehow the ready welcome and attention I always met with, had worked on my young heart, and I learned to feel all the interest of these scenes fully as much as those about me. It was then with a sense of desolation that I looked upon the one solitary mourner, who now sat at the hearth — that poor old idiot man who gazed on vacancy, or muttered with parched lip some few words to himself; that he alone should be found to join his sorrows to ours, seemed to me like utter destitution, and as I leaned against the chimney I burst into tears. " Don't cry, alannah, don't cry," said the old man : " it's the worst way at all. Get up again and ride him at it bould. Oh, vo, look at where the thief is taking now — along the stone wall there." Here he broke out into a low wailing dittty — "And the fox set him down and looked about, And many -were feared to follow. ' Maybe I'm wrong,' says he, ' but I doubt That you'll be as gay to-morrow. ^For loud as you cry, and high as you ride, And little you feel my sorrow, I'll be free on the mountain-side, While you'll lie low to-morrow.' Oh, Moddideroo, aroo, aroo. i Ay, just so — they'll run to earth in the could churchyard Whisht — hark there — soho, soho that's Badger I hear " I turned away with a bursting heart, and felt my way up the brojid oak stair, which was left in complete darkness. As I reached the corridor, off which the bed-rooms lay, I heard voices talking together in a low tone — they came from my father's room, the door of which lay ajar. I approached noiselessly and peeped in. By the fire, which was the only light now in the apartment, sat two persons at a small table, one of whom I at once recognised as the tall solemn-looking figure of Doctor Finnerty ; the other I detected by the sharp tones of his voice to be Mr. Anthony Basset, my father's confidential attorney. On the table before them lay a mass of papers, parchments, leases, deeds, together with glasses and a black bottle, whose accompaniments 10 OUR MESS. of hot water and sugar, left no doubt as to its contents. The chimney - piece was crowded with a range of vials and medicine bottles, some of them emptyj some of them half finished. From the bed in the corner of the room came the heavy sounds of snoring respiration, which either betokened deep sleep or insensibility. If I enjoyed but little favour in my father's house, I owed much of the coldness shown to me to the evil influence of the very two persons who sat before me in conclave. Of the precise source of the doctor's dislike I was not quite clear, except perhaps that I recovered from the measles when he predicted my certain death ; the attorney's was, however, no mystery. About three years before he had stopped to breakfast at our house on his way to Ballinasloe fair. As his pony was led round to the stable it caught my eye. It was a most tempting bit of horseflesh, full of spirit and in top condition, for he was going to sell it. I followed him round, and appeared just as the servant was about to unsaddle him. The attorney was no favourite in the house, and I had little difficulty in persuading the man, instead of taking off the saddle, merely to shorten the stirrups to the utmost limit. The next minute I was on his back flying over the lawn at a stretching gallop. Fences abounded on all sides, and I rushed him at double ditches, stone walls, and bog-wood rails, with a mad delight that at every leap rose higher. After about three quarters of an hour thus passed, his blood, as well as my own, being by this time thoroughly roused, I determined to try him at the wall of an old pound, which stood some few hundred yards from the front of the house. Its exposure to the window, at any other time, would have deterred me from even the thought of such an exploit, now I was quite beyond the pale of such cold calculations, besides that I was accom- panied by a select party of all the labourers, with their wives and children, whose praises of my horsemanship would have made me take the lock of a canal if before me. A fine gallop of grass sward led to the pound, and over this I went, cheered with as merry a cry as ever stirred a light heart. One glance I threw at the house as I drew near the leap ; the window of the breakfast parlour was open, my father and Mr. Basset were both at it ; I saw their faces red with passion, I heard their loud shout ; my very spirit sickened within me — I saw no more ; I felt the pony rush at the wall — the quick stroke of his feet — tin- rise — the plunge — and then a crash — and I was sent spinning over his head some half dozen yards, ploughing up the ground on face and hands. I was carried home with a broken head ; the pony's knees were in the same condition. My father said that he ought to be shot for humanity's sake; Tony suggested the same treatment for me, on similar grounds. The upshot, however, w r as, I secured an enemy for lite, and worse, still, one whose power to injure was equalled by his inclination. Into the company of these two worthies I now found myself thus accidentally thrown, and woidd gladly have retreated at once, but that some indescribable impulse to be near my father's sick bed was on me, and so I crept stealthily in and sat down in a large chair at the foot of the bed, where unnoticed I listened tc the long- IgSpiPpillPlgSBnpP TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 1 I drawn Leavings of his chest, and in silence wept over my own desolato condition. For a long time the absorbing nature of my own grief prevented trie hearing the muttered conversation near the fire ; but at length, as the night wore on, and my sorrow had found vent in tears, I began to listen to the dialogue beside me. " He'll have five hundred pounds under his grandfather's will in spite of us ; but what's that?" said the attorney. "I'll take him as an . apprentice for it, I know," said the doctor, with a grin that made me shudder. " That's settled already," replied Mr. Basset. " He's to be articled to me for five years ; but I think it's likely he'll go to sea before the time expires. — How heavily the old man is sleeping ! Now, is that natural sleep ?" " No ; that's always a bad sign : that puffing with the lips is ge- nerally among the last symptoms. Well, he'll be a loss anyhow, when he's gone. There's an eight-ounce mixture he never tasted yet — infu- sion of gentian, with soda. Put your lips to that." " Devil a one o' me will ever sup the like," said the attorney, finishing his tumbler of punch as he spoke — " Pheugh ! how can you drink them things that way ?" " Sure it's the compound infusion made with orange peel and carda- mom seeds. There isn't one of them didn't cost two-and-ninepence. He'll be eight weeks in bed come Tuesday next." " Well, well ! If he lived till the next assizes, it would be telling me four hundred pounds, not to speak of the costs of two ejectments I have in hand against Mullins and his father-in-law." "It's a wonder," said the doctor, after a pause, "that Tom didn't come by the coach. It's no matter now, at any rate ; for since the eldest son's away, there's no one here to interfere with us." " It was a masterly stroke of yours, doctor, to tell the old man the weather was too severe to bring George over from Eton. As sure as he came, he'd make up matters with Tom ; and the end of it would be, I'd lose the agency, and you wouldn't have those pleasant little bills for the tenantry — eh, Fin ?" "Whisht ! he's waking now Well, sir — well, Mr. Burke, how do you feel, now ? He's off again." " The funeral ought to be on a Sunday," said Basset in a whisper. " There 'ill be no getting the people to come any other day. He's saying something, I think." " Fin," said my father, in a faint hoarse voice, — " Fin, give me a drink It's not warm." " Yes, sir : I had it on the fire." " Well, then, it's myself that's growing cold. How's the pulse now, Fin ? — is the Dublin doctor come yet ?" '• No, sir ; we're expecting him every minute ; but sure, you know, we're doing every thing." " Oh ! I know it. Yes, to be sure, Fin ; but they've many a new thing up in Dublin, there, we don't hear of. Whisht'. — what's that?" »» 12 OUR MESS. " It's Tony, sir — Tony Basset : he's sitting up with nie. ; ' " Come over here, Tony. Tony, I'm going fast. I feel it, and my heart is low. Could we withdraw the proceedings about Freney ?" " He's the biggest blackguard " <; Ah ! no matter now — I'm going to a place where we'll all need mercy. What was it that Canealy said he'd give for the land?" " Two pound ten an acre — and Freney never paid thirty shillings out of it." " It's mighty odd George didn't come over." " Sure I told you there was two feet of snow on the ground." " Lord be about us ! what a severe season ! But why isn't Tom her i' ':" I started at the words, and was about to rush forward, when he added — " I don't want him, though." " Of course you don't," said the attorney. " It's little comfort he ever gave you. Are you in pain there ?" " Ay, great pain over my heart. Well, well ! don't be hard to him when I'm gone." "Don't let him talk so much," said Basset in a whisper to the- doctor. " You must compose yourself, Mr. Burke," said the doctor. " Try and take a sleep. The night isn't half through yet." The sick man obeyed without a word, and soon after the heavy respiration betokened the same lethargic slumber once more. The voices of the speakers gradually fell into a low monotonous sound — the long-drawn breathings from the sick-bed mingled with them : the fire only sent forth an occasional gleam, as some piece of falling turf seemed to revive its wasting life, and shot up a myriad of bright sparks ; and the chirping of the cricket in the chimney corner sounded to my mournful heart like the tick of the death-watch. As I listened, my tears fell fast ; and a gulping fulness in my throat made me feel like one in suffocation. But deep sorrow, somehow, tends to sleep. The weariness of the long day and dreary night, exhaustion, the dull hum of the subdued voices, and the faint light — all combined to make me drowsy, and I fell into a heavy slumber. I am writing now of the far-off past — of the long years ago, of my youth — since which my seared heart has had many a sore and scalding lesson ; yet I cannot think of that night, fixed and graven as it lies in mv memory, without a touch of boyish softness. I remember every waking thought that crossed my mind — my very dream is still before me. It was of my mother. I thought of her, as she lay on a sofa in the old. drawing-room, the window open, and the blinds drawn — the gentle breeze of a June morning flapping them lazily to and fro, as I knelt beside her to repeat my little hymn, the first I ever learned; — and how at each moment my eyes would turn and my thoughts stray lo that open casement, through which the odour of flowers and the sweet long of birds were pouring; and my little heart was panting fur liberty, while her gentle smile and faint words bade me remember where 1 was. And then I was straying away through the old garden, where the very sun-light fell scantily through the thick-woven branches, TOM BURKK OF " OURS." 13 loaded with perfumed blossom: the blackbirds hopped fearlessly from twig to twig, mingling their clear notes with the breezy murmur of the leaves, and the deep hum of summer bees. How happy was I then ! and why cannot such happiness be lasting ? Why can we not shelter ourselves from the base contamination of worldly cares, and live on amid pleasures pure as these, with hearts as holy and desires as simple as in childhood? Suddenly a change came over my dream', and the dark clouds began to gather from all quarters, and a low, creeping wind moaned heavily along. I thought I heard my name called. I started and awoke. For a second or two the delusion was so strong that I could not remember where I was ; but as the grey light of a breaking morning fell through the half-open shutters, I beheld the two figures near the fire. They were both sound asleep, the deep-drawn breathing and nodding heads attesting the heaviness of their slumber. I felt cold and cramped, but still afraid to stir, although a longing to approach the bed-side was still upon me. A faint sigh and some muttered words here came to my ear, and I listened. It was my father ; but so indistinct the sounds, they seemed more like the ramblings of a dream. I crept noiselessly on tiptoe to the bed, and, drawing the cur- tain gently over, gazed within. He was lying on his back, his hands and arms outside the clothes. His beard had grown so much, and he had wasted so far, that I could scarcely have known him. His eyes were wide open, but fixed on the top of the bed ; his lips moved rapidly, and, by his hands, as they were closely clasped, I thought it was in prayer. I leaned over him, and placed my hand in his. For some time he did not seem to notice it, but at last he pressed it softly, and, rubbing the fingers to and fro, he said in a low, faint voice — " Is this your hand, my boy ?" I thought my heart had split, as, in a gush of tears, I bent down and kissed him. " I can't see well, my dear — there's something between me and the light, and a weight is on me — here — here " A heavy sigh, and a shudder that shook his whole frame, followed these words. " They told me I wasn't to see you once again," said he, as a sickly smile played over his mouth — " but I knew you'd come to sit by me. It's a lonely thing not to have one's own at such an hour as this. Don't weep, my dear — my own heart's failing me fast." A broken, muttering sound followed, and then he said, in a loud voice — "I never did it! It was Tony Basset. He told me, he persuaded me — ah ! that was a sore day when I listened to him. Who's to tell me I'm not to be master of my own estate ? Turn them adrift, ay, every man of them. I'll weed the ground of such wretches — eh, Tony? Did any one say Freney's mother was dead ? They may wake her at the cross roads, if they like. Poor old Molly ! I'm sorry for her, too. Shu nursed me and my sister that's gone ; and maybe her death-bed, poor a* she was, was easier than mine will be — without kith or kin, child or 14 OUR MESS. friend. Oh, George! — and I that doated on you with all my heart! Whose hand's this? Ah, I forgot, my darling boy — it's you. Come to me here, my child. Wasn't it for you that I toiled and scraped this many a year ? wasn't it for you that I did all this, and — O God forgive me ! — maybe it's my soul that I've perilled to leave you a rich man. Where's Tom ? where's that fellow now ?" " Here, sir," said I, squeezing his hand, and pressing it to my lips. He sprang up at the words, and sat up in his bed, his eyes dilated to their widest, and his pale lips parted asunder. " Where ?" cried he, as he felt me over with his thin fingers, and drew me towards him. " Here, father, here." " And is this Tom ?" said he, as his voice fell into a low, hollow sound, and then added — " Where's George ? Answer me at once. Oh, I see it. He isn't here ; he wouldn't come over to see his old father. Tony ! Tony Basset, I say !" shouted the sick man in a voice that roused the sleepers, and brought them to his bedside — " open that window there. Let me look out — do it as I bid you — open it wide. Turn in all the cattle you can find on the road. Do you hear me, Tony ? Drive them in from every side. Finnerty, I say, mind my words, for " here he uttered a most awful and terrific oath — " as I linger on this side of the grave, I'll not leave him a blade of grass I can take from him." His chest heaved with a convulsive spasm, his face became pale as death, his eyes fixed, he clutched eagerly at the bed-clothes, and then, with a horrible cry, he fell back upon the pillow, as a faint stream of red blood trickled from his nostril, and i-an down his chin. " It's all over now," whispered the doctor. " Is he dead ?" said Basset. The other made no reply ; but drawing the curtains close, he turned away ; and they both moved noiselessly from the room. tom burkf. of "ours.' 15 CHAPTER II. DARBY — THE "BLAST." Tf there are dreams which by their vividness and accuracy of detail 6eem altogether like reality, so are there certain actual passages in our lives which, in their indistinctness while occurring, and in the faint im- pression they leave behind them, seem only as mere dreams. Most of our early sorrows are of this kind. The warm current of our young hearts would appear to repel the cold touch of affliction ; nor can grief at this period do more than breathe an icy chill upon the surface of our affections, where all is glowing and fervid beneath. The struggle, then, between the bounding heart and the depressing care, renders our impressions of grief vague and ill-defined. A stunning sense of some great calamity, some sorrow without hope, mingled in my waking thoughts with a childish notion of freedom. Unloved, uncared for, my early years presented but few pleasures. My boyhood had been a long struggle to win some mark of affection from one who cared not for me, and to whom still my heart had clung, as does the drowning man to the last plank of all the wreck. The tie that bound me to him was now severed, and I was without one in the wide world to look up to or to love. I looked out from my window upon the bleak country. A heavy snow-storm had fallen during the night. A lowering sky of leaden hue stretched above the dreary landscape, across which no living thing was seen to move. Within doors all was silent. The doctor and the attorney had both taken their departure. The deep wheel-track in the snow marked the road they had followed. The servants, seated around the kitchen fire, conversed in low and broken whispers. The only sound that broke the stillness was the ticking of the clock upon the stair. There was something that smote heavily on my heart in the monotonous ticking of that clock, that told of time passing beside him who had gone — that seemed to speak of minutes close to one whose minutes were eternity. I crept into the room where the dead body lay, and as my tears ran fast. I bent over it. I thought sometimes the expression of those cold features changed — now frowning heavily, now smiling blandly on me. 1 watched them till in my eager gaze the lips seemed to move, and the cheek to flush. How hard is it to believe in death ! — how difficult to think that " there is a sleep that knows not waking." I knelt down beside the bed and prayed. I prayed that now, as all of earth was nought to him who was departed, he would give me the affection he had not bestowed in life. I besought him not to chill the heart that in its lonely desolation Lad neither home nor friend. My throat sobbed to bursting as in my words I seemed to realize the 16 OUR MESS. fulness' of my affliction. T lie door opened behind me, as with bent down head I knelt. A heavy footstep slowly moved along the floor, and the next moment the tottering figure of old Lanty stood beside me, gazing on the dead man. There was that look of vacancy in his filmy eye that showed he knew nothing of what had happened. " Is he asleep, Master Tommy ?" said the old man in a faint whisper. My lips trembled, but I could not speak the word. " I thought he wanted the ' dogs ' up at Meelif ; but I'm strained here about the loins, and can't go out myself. Tell him that, when he wakes " " He'll never wake now, Lanty — he's dead," said I, as a rush of tears half choked my utterance. " Dead !" said he, repeating the word two or three times. " Dead ! Well, well, I wonder will Master George keep the dogs now\ Then* seldom comes a better ; and 'twas himself that liked the cry o' them." He tottered from the room as he spoke, and I could hear him mut- tering the same words over and over as he crept slowly down the stair. I have said that this painful stroke of fortune was as a dream to me, and so for three days I felt it. The altered circumstances of every thing about me were inexplicable to my puzzled brain. The very kindness of the servants — so unusual to me — struck me forcibly. They felt that the time was past when any sympathy for me had been the passport to disfavour, and they pitied me. The funeral took place on the third morning. Mr. Basset having accpiainted my brother that thex*e was no necessity for his presence, even that consolation was denied me, to meet him who alone remained of all my name and house belonging to me. How I remember every detail of that morning. The silence of the long night broken in upon by heavy footsteps ascending the stairs — strange voices, not sub- dued like those of all in our little household, but loud and coarse — even laughter I could hear — the noise increasing at each moment. Then the muffled sound of wheels upon the snow, and the cries of the drivers as they urged their horses forward. Then a long interval, in which nought was heard save the happy whistle of some poor postillion, who, careless of his errand, whiled away the tedious time with a lively tune. And, lastly, there came the dull noise of feet moving step by step down the stair, the muttered words, the shuffling sound of feet as they descended, and the clank of the coffin as it struck against the wall. The long low parlour was filled with people, few of whom I had ever seen before. They were broken up into little knots, chatting cheer- fully together, while they made a hurried breakfast. Tlie table and sideboard were covered with a profusion I had never witnessed pre- viously. Decanters of wine passed freely from hand to hand ; and although the voices fell somewhat as I appeared amidst them, I looked in vain for one touch of sorrow for the dead, or even respect for his memory. As 1 took my place in the carriage beside the attorney, a kind of TOM BL'ltKE OF "OURS." if dreamy apathy settled down on me, and I scarcely k;;cw what was passing. I only remember the horrible shrinking sense of dread with which I recoiled from his one attempt at consolation, and the abrupt way in which lie desisted, and turned to converse with the doctor. How my heart sickened as we drew near the churchyard, and I beheld the open gate that stood wide awaiting us. The dusky figures, with their mournful black cloaks, moved slowly across the snow, like spirits of some gloomy world ; while the death-bell echoed in my ears, and sent a shuddering through my frame. * * * ********* -V * * * * * * * * " What is to become of the second boy ?" said the clergyman in a low whisper, but which by some strange fatality struck forcibly on my ear. " It's not much matter," replied Basset still lower ; " for the pre- sent, he goes home with me. Tom, I say, you come back with me to-day." " No," said I boldly, " I'll go home again." " Home !" repeated he with a scornful laugh — " Home ! And where may that be, youngster ?" "For shame, Basset," said the clergyman, "don't speak that way to him. My little man, you can't go home to-day. Mr. Basset will take you with him for a few days, until your late father's will is known, and his wishes respecting you." " I'll go home, sir," said I, but in a fainter tone, and with tears in my eyes. " Well, well, let him do so for to-day, it may relieve his poor heart. Come, Basset, I'll take him back myself." I clasped his hand as he spoke, and kissed it over and over. " With all my heart," cried Basset. " I'll come over and fetch him to-morrow ;" and then he added in a lower tone, " and before that you'll have found out quite enough to be heartily sick of your charge." All the worthy vicar's efforts to rouse me from my stupor or interest me, failed. He brought me to his house, where, amid his own happy chil- dren, he deemed my heart would have yielded to the sympathy of my own age ; but I pined to get back — I longed, why I knew not, to be in my own little chamber, alone with my grief. In vain he tried every conso- lation his kind heart and his life's experience had taught him. The very happiness I witnessed, but reminded me of my own state, and I pressed the more eagerly to return. It was late when he drew up to the door of the house, to which already the closed window-shutters had given a look of gloom and desertion. We knocked several times before any one came, and at length two or three heads appeared at an upper window, in half terror at the unlooked-for summons for admission. " Good-by, my dear boy," said the vicar, as he kissed me ; " don't forget what I have been telling you. It will make you bear your pre- sent sorrow better, and teach you to be happier when it is over." MESS, NO. XIV. — VOL. II. C IS OVR MESS. '• Come down to the kitchen, alannak " said the old cook, as the hall- door closed ; ' ; come down and sit with ns there : sure it's no wonder your heart 'ud be low." " Yes, Master Tommy, and Darby ' the blast' is there, and a tune an the pipes will raise you." I Buffered myself to be led along listlessly between them to the kitchen, where, around a huge fire of red turf, the servants of the house were all assembled, together with some neighbouring cottagers ; Darby " the blast" occupying a prominent place in the party, his pipes laid across his knees, as he employed himself in concocting a smoking tumbler of punch. " Your most obadient," said Darby, with a profound reverence, as I entered. " May I make so bowld as to surmise that my presence isn't unsaysonable to your feelins ; for I wouldn't be contumacious enough to adjudicate without your honour's permission ?" What I muttered in reply I know not ; but the -whole party were speedily reseated, every eye turned admiringly on Darby for the very neat and appropriate expression of his apology. Young as I was, and slight as had been the consideration heretofore accorded me, there was that in the lonely desolation of my condition which awakened all their sympathies, and directed all their interests towards me: and in no country are the differences of rank such slight barriers in excluding the feeling of one portion of the community from the sorrows of the others. The Irish peasant, however humble, seems to possess an intuitive tact on this subject, and to minister all the consolations in his power with a gentle delicacy that cannot be surpassed. The silence caused by my appearing among them was unbroken for some time after I took my seat by the fire ; and the only sounds were the clinking of a spoon against the glass, or the deep-drawn sigh of some compassionate soul, as she wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye with her apron. Darby alone manifested a little impatience at the sudden change in a party where his powers of agreeability had so lately been successful, and fidgeted on his chair, unscrewed his pipes, blew into them, screwed them on again, and then slily nodded over to the housemaid, as he raised his glass to his lips. " Never mind me,'* said I to the old cook, who, between grief and the glare of a turf fire, had her face swelled out to twice its natural size. " Never mind me, Molly, or I'll go away." ' ; And why would you, darlin' ? Troth, no ! sure there's nobody feel* for you like them that was always about you. Take a cup of tay, al an n ah — it 'ill do you good." " Yes, Blaster Tom," said the butler; "you never tasted any thing since Tuesday night." "Do, sir, av ye plaze?" said the pretty housemaid, as she stood before ijk,-, cup in hand. "Arrah! what's t;ty r" said Darby, in a contemptuous tone ofvoie: : "a few dirty laves, with a drop of water on top of them, that has TOM LCRlvE OF " OUKS." 19 neither beatification nor invigoration. Here's the '■fans animi!' " said he, patting the whiskey-bottle affectionately. " Did ye ever hear of tie ancients indulging in tay ! D'ye think Polyphamus and Jupither took tay !" The cook looked down abashed and ashamed. " Tay's good enough for women — no offence, Mrs. Cook ! — but you might boil down Paykin and it'd never be potteen. Ex quo vis ligno non fit Mer curias — ' You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.' That's the meaning of it — ligno's a sow." Heaven knows I was in no mirthful mood at that moment, but I burst into a fit of laughing at this, in which, from a sense of politeness, the party all joined. " That's it, acushla !" said the old cook, as her eyes sparkled with delight; "sure it makes my heart light to see you smilin' again. Maybe Darby would raise a tune now, and there's nothing equal to it for the spirits." " Yes, Mister M'Keown," said the housemaid, "play 'Kiss me twice,' — Master Tom likes it." " Devil a doubt he does," replied Darby so maliciously as to make poor Kitty blush a deep scarlet, " and no shame to him ! But you see my fingers is cut, Master Tom, and I can't perform the reduplicating intonations with proper effect." "How did that happen, Darby?" said the butler. ' Faix, easy enough. Tim Daly and myself was hunting a cat the other evening, and she was under the dhresser, and we wor poking her with a burnt stick and a rayping-hook ; and she somehow always escaped us, and except about an inch of her tail that we cut off, there was no getting at her ; and at last I hated a toastin'-fork and put it in, whin out she flew, teeth and claws at me. Look, there's where she stuck her thieving nails into my thumb, and took the piece clean out.". . " Arrah !" said the old cook, with a most reflective gravity, " there's nothing so treacherous as a cat !" — A moral to the story which I found met general assent among the whole company. " Nevertheless," observed Darby, with an air of ill-dissembled con- descension, " if it isn't umbrageous to your honour, I'll intonate some- thing in the way of an ode, or a canticle." " One of your own, Darby," said the butler, interrupting. " Well, I've no objection," replied Darby, with an atf ected modesty ; "for you see, master, like Homer, I accompany myself on the pipes, though — glory be to God ! — I'm not blind. The little thing I'll give you is imitated from the ancients — like Tibullus or Euthropeus — in the natural key." Mister M'Keown, after this announcement, pushed his empty tumbler towards the butler with a significant glance, gave a few preparatory grunts with the pipes, followed by a long dolorous quaver, and then a still more melancholy cadence, like the expiring bray of an asthmatic jack-ass — all of which sounds seeming to be the essential prelimi- naries to any performance on the bag-pipes, were listened to with great attention by the company. At length, having assumed an im- 20 OUR MESS. posing attito.de, lie lifted up both elbows, tilted bis little finger affectedly up. dilated his cheeks, and began the following to the well-known air of " Una." MUSIC. Of all the arts and sciences, 'Tis Music surely takes the sway ; It has its own appliances To melt the heart, or make it gay. To raise us, Or plaze us, There's nothing- with it can compare ; To make us bowld, Or hot, or cowld, Just as suits the kiud of air. There's not a woman, man, or child, That hasn't felt its power too : Don't deny it ! — when you smiled Your eyes confess'd — that so did you. The very winds that sigh or roar — The leaves that rustle, dry and scar — The waves that beat upon the shore — They all are music to your ear : It was of use To Orpheus — He charmed the fishes in the say ; So every thing Alive can sing — The kettle even sings for tay 1 There's not a woman, man, nor child , That hasn't felt its power too ; Don't deny it ! — when you smiled Your eyes confess'd — that so did you. I have certainly, since this period, listened to more brilliant musical performances, but for the extent of the audience, I do not think it was possible to reap a more overwhelming harvest of applause. Indeed the old cook kept repeating stray fragments of the words to every air that crossed her memory for the rest of the evening; and as for Kitty, I intercepted more than one soft glance intended for Mister M'Keown as a reward for his minstrelsy. Darby, to do him justice, seemed fully sensible of his triumph, and snt back in his chair, and imbibed his liquor, like a man who had won his laurels, and needed no further efforts to maintain his eminent i>n in life. As the wintry wind moaned dismally without, and the leafless trees »k and trembled with the cold blast, the party drew in closer to the TOM BUKKE OF [' OURS." 21 cheerful turf fire, with that sense of selfish delight that seems to revel in the contrast of in-door comfort, with the bleakness and dreariness without. " Well, Darby," said the butler ; " you weren't far wrong when you took my advice to stay here for the night ; listen to how it's blowing." " That's hail," said the old cook, as the big drops came pattering down the chimney, and hissed on the red embers as they fell. "It's a cruel night, glory be to God." Here the old lady blessed herself — a ceremony which the others followed. " For all that," said Darby, " I ought to be up at Crocknavorrigha this blessed evening. Joe Neale was to be married to-day." " Joe ! is it Joe r" said the butler. "I wish her luck of him, whoever she is," added the cook. " Faix, and he's a smart boy," chimed in the housemaid, with some- thing not far from a blush as she spoke. " He was a raal devil for coortin', any how," said the butler. "It's just for peace he's marrying now, then," said Darby; "the women never gave him any quietness just so, Kitty, you needn't be looking cross that way — it's truth I'm telling you ; they were always coming about him, and teazing him, and the like, and he couldn't bear it any longer." " Arrah, howld your prate," interrupted the old cook, whose indigna- tion for the honour of the sex could not endure more ; " he's the biggest liar from this to himself — and that same's not a small word, Darby M'Keown." There was a pointedness in the latter part of this speech which might have led to angry consequences, had I not interposed, by asking Mr. M'Keown himself, if he ever was in love. " Arrah, it's wishing it I am, the same love. Sure my e back and sides is sore with it — my misfortunes would fill a book. Didn't I bind myself apprentice to a carpenter, for love of Molly Scraw, a niece he had, just to be near her, and be looking at her ; and that's the way I shaved off the top of my thumb with the plane. By the mortial, it was near killing me ; I usedn't to eat or drink ; and though I was three years at the thrade, faix at the end of it, I couldn't tell you the gimlet from the handsaw." " And you wor never married, Mister M'Keown?" said Kitty. " Never, my darling, but often mighty near it. Many's the quare thing happened to me," said Darby, meditatingly ; "and sure if it wasn't my guardian angel, or something of the kind prevented it, I'd maybe have more wives this day than the Emperor of Koossia himself." ' Arrah, don't be talking," grunted out the old cook, whose passion could scarcely be restrained at the boastful tone Mister MTveown assumed, in descanting on his successes, " There was Biddy Finn," continued Darby, without paying any attention to the cook's interruption ; "she might be Mrs. M-Keown this day, av it wasn't for a remarkable thing that happened." " What was that ?" said Kitty, with eager curiosiiy. "Tell us about it, Mister M'Keown," said the butler. 22 OUR MESS. " The devil a word of truth he'll tell you," grumbled the cool:, as she raked the ashes with a stick. •• There's thiin here does not care for agreeable intcrcoorse," said Darby, assuming a grand air. " Come, Darby, I'd like to hear the story," said I. After a lew preparatory scruples, in which modesty, offended dignity, and conscious merit struggled, Mr. M'Keown began by informing us that lie had once a most ardent attachment to a certain Biddy Finn, of Baflyclough, a lady of considerable personal attractions, to whom, for a long time, he had been constant, and at last, through the inter- vention of Father Curtain, agreed to marry. Darby's consent to the arrangements was not altogether the result of his reverence's elo- quence, nor indeed the justice of the case — nor was it quite owing to Biddy's black eyes and pretty lips — but rather to the soul-persuading powers of some fourteen tumblers of strong punch, which he swallowed at a seance in Biddy's father's house, one cold evening in November ; after which he betook himself to the road homewards, where but we must give his story in his own words : — " Whether it was the prospect of happiness before me, or the potteen," quoth Darby, " but so it was, I never felt a step of the road home that night, though it was every foot of five mile. When I came to a stile, I used to give a whoop, and over it ; then I'd run for a hun- dred yards or two, flourish my stick, cry out, ' who'll say a word against Biddy Finn ?' and then over another fence, flying. Well, I reached home at last, and wet enough I was, but I didn't care for that. I opened the door and struck a light — there was the least taste of kindling on the hearth, and I put some dry sticks into it, and some turf, and knelt down and began blowing it up. " ' Troth,' says I to myself, ' if I wor married, it isn't this way I'd be — on my knees like a nagur ; but when I'd come home, there 'ud be a fine fire blazin' fornint me, and a clean table out before it, and a beautiful cup of tay waiting for me — and somebody I won't mintion, sitting there, looking at me, smilin'. " ' Don't be making a fool of yourself, Darby M'Keown,' said a gruff voice near the chimley. " I jumped at him, and cried out, ' Who's that ?' but there was no answer ; and at last, after going round the kitchen, I began to think that it was only my own voice I heard, so I knelt down again, and set to blowing away at the fire. " ' And it's yerself, Biddy,' says I, ' that Mould be an ornament to a dacent cabin ; and a purtier leg and foot ' " ' Be the light that shines, you're making me sick, Darby M'Keown, said the voice again. "' The heavens he about us,' says I, 'what's that, and who are you at all?' for someways I thought I knew the voice. " ' I'm your father,' says the voice. " ' My father '.' says I. ' Holy Joseph, is it truth vou're telling me ?' "' The divil a word o' lie in it,' says the voice. ' Take me down and give me an air o' the fire, for the night's cowld.' TOM BURKE OF "oi'RS." 23 " ' And where are you, father,' says I, ' av it's plasing to ye ?* " ' I'm on the dhresser,' says he. ' Don't you see me ?' " ' Sorra bit o' me. Where now ?' " ' Arrah, on the second shelf, next the rowling-pin. Don't you see the green jug? — that's me.' " Oh, the saints in heaven be about us !' says I ; ' and are you a green jug ?' " ' I am,' says he ; * and sure I might be worse. Tim Healey's mother is only a cullender, and she died two years before me.' " ' Oh, father darlin',' says I, « I hoped you wor in glory, and you only a jug all this time!' " ' Never fret about it,' says my father ; ' it's the transmogrification of sowls, and we'll all be right by-and-by. Take me down, I say, and put me near the fire.' " So I up and took him down, and wiped him with a clean cloth, and put him on the hearth before the blaze. " ' Darby,' says he, 'I'm famished with the druth. Since you took to coortin' there's nothing ever goes into my mouth — haven't you a taste of something in the house ?' " I wasn't long till I hated some wather, and took down the bottle of whiskey and some sugar, and made a rousing jug full, as strong as need be. " ' Are you satisfied, father ?' says I. " ' I am,' says he, ' you're a dutiful child ; and here's your health, and don't be thinking of Biddy Finn.' " With that my father began to explain how there was never any rest nor quietness for a man after he married — more be token, if his wife was fond of talking ; and that he never could take his dhrop of drink in comfort afterwards. "< May I never,' says he, 'but I'd rather be a green jug, as I am now, than alive again wid your mother. Sure it's not here you'd be sitting to-night,' says he, ' discoorsing with me, av you wor married, devil a bit. Fill me,' says my father, ' and I'll tell you more.' " And sure enough I did, and we talked away till near daylight ; and then the first thing I did was to take the ould mare out of the stable, and set off to Father Curtain, and towld him all about it, and how my father wouldn't give his consent by no means. " ' We'll not mind the marriage,' says his rivirence ; ' but go back and bring me your father — the jug, I mean — and we'll try and get him out of trouble — for it's trouble he's in, or he wouldn't be that way. Give me the two-pound-ten,' says the priest : 'you had it for the wed- ding, and it will be better spent getting your father out of purgatory, than sending you into it.' " "Arrah, aren't you ashamed of yourself?" cried the cook, with a look of ineffable scorn, as he concluded. " Look now," said Darby, "see this — if it isn't thruth " "And what became of your father?" interrupted the butler. " And Biddy Finn, what did she do ?" said the housemaid. Darby, however, vouchsafed no reply, but sat back in his chair with an offended look, and sipped his liquor in silence. \ 1 OUR MESS. A fresh brew i»f punch under the butler's auspices speedily, however, dispelled the cloud that hovered over the conviviality of the party ; and even the cook vouchsafed to assist in the preparation of some rashers, which Darby suggested '• were beautiful things for the thirst at this hour of the night " — but whether in allaying or exciting it, he didn't exactly lay down. The conversation now became general ; and as they seemed resolved to continue their festivities to a late hour, I took the first opportunity I could, when unobserved, to steal away and return to my own room. No sooner alone ajjain than all the sorrow of my lonelv state came back upon me ; and as I laid my head on my pillow, the full measure of my misery flowed in upon my heart, and I sobbed myself to sleep. CHAPTER III. THE DEPARTURE. The violent beating of the rain against the glass, and the loud crash of the storm as it shook the window frames, or snapped the sturdy branches of the old trees, awoke me. I got up, and, opening the shutters, endeavoured to look out ; but the darkness was impenetrable, and I could see nothing but the gnarled and grotesque forms of the leafless trees dimly marked against the sky, as they moved to and fro like the arms of some mighty giant — masses of heavy snow melted by the rain fell at intervals from the steep roof, and struck the ground beneath with a low sumph like thunder — a greyish, leaden tinge that marked the horizon showed it was near daybreak ; but there was nought of promise in this harbinger of morning. Like my own career, it opened gloomily, and in sadness: so felt I at least; and as I sat beside the window, and strained my eyes to pierce the darkening storm, I thought that even watching the wild hurricane without was better than brooding over the sorrows within my own bosom. I low long I remained thus I know not: but already the faint streak that announces sunrise marked the dull-coloured sky, when the cheer- ful sounds of a voice singing in the room underneath attracted me. 1 listened, and in a moment recognised the piper, Darby M'Keown. He moved quickly about, and by his motions I could collect that he was making preparations for his journey. IT I could venture to pronounce, from the merry tones of his voice, and the light elastic step with which he trod the floor, I certainly would not suppose that the dreary weather had any terror for him. He f-poke so loud that I could catch a great deal of the dialogue TOM BURKE OP " OURS." 25 be maintained with himself*, and some odd verses of the song with which from time to time he garnished Ids reflections. '• Many, indeed ! — catch me at it — nabocklish — with the country side before me, and the hoith of good eating and drinking for a blast of the chauntre. Well, well, women's quare craytures anyway. Ho, ho ! Mister Barney, No more of your blarney, I'd have you not make so free : You may go where you plaze, And make love at your ease, But the devil may have you for me. Very well, ma'am — Mister M'Keown is your most obadient — never say it twice, honey — and isn't there as good fish — eh, whoop ! Oh ! my heart is unazy, My brain is run crazy, Sure it 'a often I wish I was dead ; 'Tis your smile now so sweet, Now your ancles and feet, That's walked into my heart, Molly Spread. Tol de rol, de rol, oh ! Whew ! that's rain, anyhow. I wouldn't mind it, bad as it is, if I hadn't the side of a mountain before me ; but sure it comes to the same in the ind. Catty Delany is a good warrant for a pleasant evening, and please God I'll be playing Baltiorum beside the fire there before this time to-night. She'd a pig- and boneens, And a bed and a dresser, And a nate little room For the father confessor, . "With a cupboard and curtains, and something, I'm towld, That his rev'rance liked, when the weather was cowld. And its hurroo, hurroo ! Biddy O'Eafferty. After all, faix, the priest bates us out. There's eight o'clock now, and I'm not off — devil a one's stirring in the house either. Well, I believe I may take my leave of it — sorrow many tunes of the pipes it's likely to hear, with Tony Basset over it ; and my heart's low when I think of that child there. Poor Tom ! and it was you liked fun when you could have it." I wanted but the compassionate tone in wnich these few words were spoken to decide me in a resolution that I had been for some time pondering over. I knew that ere many hours Basset would come in search of me — I felt that, once in his power, I had nothing to expect but the long-promised payment of his old debt of hatred to me. In a few seconds I ran over with myself the prospect of misery before me, and determined at once, at every hazard, to make my escape. Darby seemed to afford me the best possible opportunity for this purpose, and I dressed myself, therefore, in the greatest 2ti Ol'R ME3S. haste, anil, throwing whatever I could find of my wardrobe into my carpet-bag, I pocketed my little purse, with all my worldly wealth— some twelve or thirteen shillings — and noiselessly slipped down stairs to the room beneath. I reached the door at the very moment Darby ned it to issue forth. He started back with fear, and crossed himself twice. " Don't be afraid, Darby," said I, uneasy lest he should make any noise that would alarm the others. " I want to know which road you arc travelling this morning." •■ The saints be about us, but you frightened me, Master Tommy — though, intermediately, I may obsarve, I'm no ways timorous. I'm going within two miles of Athlone." " That's exactly where I want to go, Darby — will you take me with you?" — for at the instant Captain Bubbleton's address flashed on my mind, and I resolved to seek him out and ask his advice in my difficulties. " I see it all," replied Darby, as he placed the tip of his finger on his nose. " I conceive your embarrassments — you're afraid of Basset, and small blame to you ; but don't do it, Master Tommy, don't do it, alannah : that's the hardest life at all." " What ?" said I, in amazement. " To list: sure I know what yo'ure after; faix, it would sarve you better to lam the pipes." I hastened to assure Darby of his error, and in a few words informed him of what I had overheard of Basset's intentions respecting me. " Make you an attorney !" said Darby, interrupting me abruptly — " an attorney ! — there's nothing so mean as an attorney : the police is gentlemen compared to them — they fight it out fair like men ; b-ut the other chaps sit in a house planning and contriving mischief all day long, inventing every kind of wickedness, and then getting people to do it. See, now, I believe in my conscience the devil was the first attorney, and it was just to sarve his own ends that he bred a ruction between Adam and Eve— but whisht ! there's somebody stirring. Are you for the road ?" ^i es, Darby ; my mind's made up." Indeed his own eloquent eulogium on legal pursuits assisted my res -lution, and filled my heart with renewed disgust at the thought of such a guardian as Tony Basset. We walked stealthily along the gloomy passages, traversed the old hall, and noiselessly withdrew the heavy bolts and the great chain that ned the door. The rain was sweeping along the ground in torrents, and the wind dashed it against the window-panes in fitful gusts : it needed all our strength to close the door after us against the storm, and it was only after several trials that we succeeded in doing The hollow sound of the oak door smote upon my heart as it ed behind me: in an instant the 6ense of banishment — of utter titution, was present to my mind. I turned my eyes to gaze upon th': old bouse — to take my last farewell of it for ever. Gloomy as my was, my sorrow was less for the sad future than for the misery of the moment. TOM BURKE OF " OCRS," ^7 " No, Master Tom, no, you must go back," said Darby, who watched with a tender interest tbe sickly paleness of my cheek, and the tottering uncertainty of my walk. " No, Darby," said I, with an effort at firmness. "I'll not look round any more ;" and bending my head against the storm, I stepped out boldly beside my companion. We walked on without speaking, and soon left the neglected avenue and ruined gate-lodge behind us, as we reached the high road that led to Athlone. Darby, who only waited to let my first burst of sorrow find its natural vent, no sooner perceived from my step, and the renewed colour of my cheek, that I had rallied my courage once more, than he opened all his stores of agreeability, which to my inexperience in such matters were by no means inconsiderable. Abandoning at once all high-flown phraseology, — which Mister M'Keown, I afterwards remarked, only retained as a kind of gala suit for great occasions — he spoke freely and naturally ; lightening the way with many a story — now grave, now gay ■ — he seemed to care little for the inclemency of the weather, and looked pleasantly forward to a happy evening as an ample reward for the present hardship. " And the captain, Master Tom, you say he's an agreeable man," said Darby, alluding to my late companion on the coach, whose merits I was never tired of recapitulating. " Oh, delightful ! he has travelled everywhere, and seems to know everybody and every thing : he's very rich, too — I forget how many horses he has in England, and elephants without number in India." " Faix ! you were in luck to fall in with him," observed Barney. " Yes, that I was ! I'm sure he'll do something for me ; and tor you loo, Darby, when he knows you have been so kind to me." " Me ! What did I do, darling ? and what coidd I do, a poor piper like me ? Wouldn't it be honour enough for me, if a gentleman's son would travel the road with me? Darby M'Keown's a proud man this day to have you beside him." A ruined cabin in the road, whose blackened walls and charred timbers denoted its fate, here attracted my companion's attention : he stopped for a second or two to look on it, and then kneeling down, he muttered a short prayer for the eternal rest of some one departed, and taking up a stone, he threw it on a heap of similar ones which lay near the door side. " What happened there, Darby?" said L as he resumed his way. " They wor out in the thrubles," was his only reply, as he cast a glance behind, to perceive if any one had remarked him. Though he made no further allusion to the fate of those who once inhabited the cabin, he spoke freely of his own share in the eventful year of Ninety-eight ; justifying, as it then seemed to me, every step of the patriotic party, and explaining the causes of their unsuccess so naturally and so clearly, that I could not help following with interest every detail of his narrative, and joining in his regrets for the unex- pected and adverse strokes fortune dealt upon them. As he warmed with his subject, he spoke of France with an enthusiasm that I soon found contagious ; he told me of the glorious career of the French OVR MESS. armies in Italy and Austria, ami of that wonderful man of whom I then heard for the first time, as spreading a halo of victory over his nation; contrasting, as he went on, the rewards which awaited heroism and bravery in that service, with the purchased promotion in ours, artfully illustrating his position by a reference to myself, and what my fortunes would have been, if born under that happier sky. "No elder brother there," said he, " to live in affluence, while the younger ones are turned out to winder on the wide world, houseless and pennyless ; and all these things we might have won, had we been but true to ourselves !" I drank in all he said with avidity ; the bearing of his arguments on my own fortunes gave them an interest and an apparent truth my young mind eagerly devoured ; and when he ceased to speak, I pondered over all he told me in a spirit that left its impress on my whole future life. It was a new notion to me to connect my own fortunes with any thing in the political condition of the country, and while it gave my \oung heart a kind of martyred courage, it set my brain a-thinking on a class of subjects which never before possessed any interest for me; there was a flattery, too, in the thought that I owed my straitened circumstances less to any demerits of my own, than to political dis- abilities. The time was well chosen by my companion to instil his doctrines into my heart — I was young, ardent, enthusiastic — my own wrongs had taught me to hate injustice and oppression — my condition had made me feel, and feel bitterly, the humiliation of dependance ; and if I listened with eager curiosity to every story and every incident of the by-gone rebellion, it was because the contest was represented to me as one between tyranny on one side and struggling liberty on the other. I heard the names of those who sided with the insurgent party extolled as the great and good men of their country — their ancient families and hereditary claims furnishing a contrast to many of the opposite party, whose recent settlement in the island and new-born aristocracy were held up in scoff* and derision. In a word, I learned to believe that the one side was characterised by cruelty, oppression, and injustice — the other conspicuous only for endurance, courage, patriotism, and truth. What a picture was this to a mind like mine! — and at a moment, too, when I seemed to realize in my own desolation, an example of the very sufferings I heard of. If the portrait M'Keown drew of Ireland was sad and gloomy, he painted France in colours the brightest and most seductive. Dwelling on the political advantages which the revolution had won for the popular party, he directed my entire attention to the brilliant career of glory the French army had followed — the triumphant success of the Italian campaign — the war in Germany, and the splendour of Paris, which he represented as a very paradise on earth ; but, above all, he dwelt on the character and achievements of the first consul, recounting many anecdotes of his early life, from the period when he was a schoolboy at Brienne u> the hour when he dictated the conditions of peace to the oldest monarchies of Europe, and proclaimed war with the voice of one who came as an avenger. TOM BDRKE OF " OURS. 29 1 drank in every word lie spoke with avidity — the very enthusiasm of his manner Mas contagious — 1 felt my heart bound with rapturous delight at some hardy deed of" soldierlike daring, and conceived a kind of wild idolatry for the man who seemed to have infused his own glorious temperament into the mighty thousands around him, and con- verted a whole nation into heroes. Darby's information on all these matters — wnich seemed to me something miraculous — had been obtained at different periods from French emissaries who were scattered through Ireland, many of them old soldiers, who had served in the campaigns of Egypt and Italy. " But sure, if you'd come with me, Master Tom, I could bring you where you'll see them yourself, and you could talk to them of the battles and skirmishes, for I suppose you spake French." " Very little, Darby. How sorry I am now that I don't know it well." " No matter, they'll soon teach you, and many a thing beside. There's a captain I know of 'not far from where we are this minute could learn you the small sword — in style he could. I wish you saw him in his green uniform with white facings, and three elegant crosses upon it that General Buonaparte gave him with his own hands ; he had them on one Sunday, and I never see'd any thing equal to it." " And are there many French officers hereabouts ?" " Not now ; no, they're almost all gone. After the rising they went back to France, except a few. Well, there 'ill be call for them again, please God." " Will there be another rebellion, then, Darby ?" As I put this question fearlessly, and in a voice loud enough to be heard at some distance, a horseman, wrapped up in a loose cloth cloak, was passing ; he suddenly pulled up short, and turning his horse round, stood exactly opposite to the piper. Darby saluted the stranger respectfully, and seemed desirous to pass on, but the other, turning round in his saddle, fixed a stern look on him, and he cried out — " What ! at the old trade, M'Keown. — Is there no curing you, eh ?" " Just so, major," said Darby, assuming a tone of voice he had not made use of the entire morning ; " I'm conveying a little instrumental recreation." " None of your d d gibberish with me. Who's that with you ?" " He's a son of a neighbour of mine, your honour," said Darby, with an imploring look at me not to betray him. " His father's a schoolmaster — a philomath, as one might say." I was about to contradict this statement bluntly, when the stranger called out to me — " Mark me, young sir, you're not in the best of company this morning, and I recommend you to part with your friend as soon as maybe. And you," said he, turning to Darby, " let me see you in Athlone at ten o'clock to-morrow. D've hear me?" The piper grew pale as death as he heard this command, to which he only responded by touching his hat in silence ; while the horseman, drawing his cloak around, dashed his spurs into his beast's flanks, and was soon out of sight. Darby stood for a moment or two, looking down the road where the stranger had disappeared ; a livid hue 30 OUR MESS. coloured his cheek, and a tremulous quivering of his under lip gave him the appearance of one in ague. " I'll be even with ye, yet," muttered he between his clenched teeth ; " and when the hour comes " Here he repeated some words in Irish, with a vehemence of man- ner that actually made my blood tingle ; then suddenly recovering himself, he assumed a kind of sickly smile. " That's a hard man, the major." " I'm thinking," said Darby, after a pause of some minutes — " I'm thinking it's better for you not to go into Athlone with me ; for if Basset wishes to track you out, that 'ill be the first place he'll try ; besides, now that the major has seen you, he'll never forget you." Having pledged myself to adopt any course my companion recom- mended, he resumed — " Ay, that's the best way. I'll lave you at Ned Malone's, in the Glen ; and when I've done with the major in the morning, I'll look after your friend the captain, and tell him where you are." I readily assented to this arrangement, and only asked what distance it might yet be to Ned Malone's, fon already I began to feel fatigue. " A good ten miles," said Darby, " no less ; but we'll stop here above, and get something to eat, and then we'll take a rest for an hour or two, and you'll think nothing of the road after." I stepped out with increased energy at the cheering prospect ; and although the violence of the weather was nothing abated, I consoled myself with the thought of the rest and refreshment before me, and resolved not to bestow a thought upon the present. Darby, on the other hand, seemed more depressed than before, and betrayed in many ways a state of doubt and uncertainty as to his movements — sometimes pushing on rapidly for half a mile or so, then relapsing into a slow and plodding pace, often looking back too, and more than once coming to a perfect stand-still, talking the wdiole time to himself in a low muttering voice. In this w r ay we proceeded for above two miles, when at last I descried through the beating rain the dusky gable of a small cabin in the distance, and eagerly asked if that were to be our halting-place. '• Yes," said Darby, " that's Peg's cabin ; and though it's not very remarkable in the way of cookery or the like, it's the only house within seven miles of us." As we came nearer, the aspect of the building became even less enticing. It was a low mud hovel, with a miserable roof of sods or scrawB, as they are technically called ; a wretched attempt at a chim- ney occupying the gable, and the front to the road containing a small Bquare aperture] with a single pane of glass as a window, and a wicker contrivance in the shape of a door, which, notwithstanding the severity of the day, lay with; open to permit the exit of the smoke, which rolled more free!} through this than through the chimney. A filthy pool of stagnant, green-covered water stood before the door, through which a little causeway of earth led. Upon this a thin, lank-sided sow was standing to be rained on, her long, pointed snout turned meditatively towards the luscious mud beside her. Displacing this important mem- TOM BURKE OF " OUBS.", 31 bcr of the family with an unceremonious kick, Darby stooped to enter the low door way, uttering as lie did so the customary " God save all here." As I followed him in, I did not catch the usual response to the greeting, and from the thick smoke which filled the cabin, could see nothing whatever around me. "Well, Peg," said Darby, "how is it with you the day." A low grunting noise issued from the foot of a little mud wall beside the fire-place. I turned and beheld the' figure of a woman of some seventy years of age seated beside the turf embers ; her dark eyes, bleared with smoke and dimmed with age, were still sharp and pierc- ing, and her nose, thin and aquiline, indicated a class of features by no means common among the people. Her dress was the blue frize coat of a labouring man, over the woollen gown usually worn by women. Pier feet and legs were bare, and her head was covered with an old straw bonnet, whose faded ribbon and tarnished finery betokened its having once belonged to some richer owner. There was no vestige of any furniture — neither table, nor chair, nor dresser, nor even a bed, unless some straw laid against the wall in one corner could be thus called ; a pot suspended over the wet and sodden turf by a piece of hay rope, and an earthen pipkin with water stood beside her. The floor of the hovel, lower in many places than the road without, was cut up into sloppy mud by the tread of the sow, who ranged at will through the premises. In a word, more dire and wretched poverty it was impossible to conceive. Darby's first movement was, to take off the lid and peer into the pot, when the bubbling sound of the boiling potatoes assured him that w r e should have at least something to eat ; his next was, to turn a little basket upside down for a seat, to which he motioned me with his hand ; then, approaching the old woman, he placed his hand to his mouth and shouted in her ear — " What's the major after this morning, Peg ?" She shook her head gloomily a couple of times, but gave no answer. " I'm thinking there's bad work going on at the town there," cried he, in the same loud tone as before. Peg muttered something in Irish, but far too low r to be audible. " Is she mad, poor thing?" said I, in a whisper. The words were not well uttered, when she darted on me her black and piercing eyes, with a look so steadfast as to make me quail beneath them. " Who's that there ?" said the hag, in a croaking harsh voice. j " He's a young boy from beyond Loughrea." " No," shouted she, in a tone of passionate energy, " don't tell me a lie. I'd know his brows among a thousand : he's a son of Mat Burke's, of Cronmore." "Begorra, she is a witch — devil a doubt of it," muttered Darby between his teeth. " You're right, Peg," continued he, after a moment. "His father's dead, and the poor child's left nothing in the world." " And so ould Mat's dead," interrupted she. " When did he die?" 32 orit Mrss. " On Tuesday morning, before day." 11 I was dhraming of him that morning, and I thought he kem up here to the cabin door on ids knees and said, ' Peggy, Peggy M.'Casky, I'm come to ax your pardon for all I done to you,' and I sat up in my bed, and cried out, ' Who's that?' and he said, ''Tis me — 'tis Mister Burke — I'm come to give you back your lease.' ' I'll tell you what, you'll give me back,' says I, 'give me the man whose heart you bruck with bad treatment — give me the two fine boys you transported for life — give me back twenty years of my own, that I spent in sorrow and misery.' " '• Peg, acushla ! don't speak of it any more. The poor child here, that's fasting from daybreak, he isn't to blame for what his father did. I think the praties is done by this time." So saying, he lifted the pot from the fire, and carried it to the door to strain off the water. The action seemed to rouse the old woman, who rose rapidly to her legs, and, hastening to the door, snatched the pot from his hand and pushed him to one side. "'Tis two days since I tasted bit or sup. — 'Tis God himself knows when and where I may have it again ; but if I never broke my fast I'll not do it with the son of him that left me a lone woman this day, that brought the man that loved me to the grave, and my children to shame for ever." As she spoke, she dashed the pot into the road with such force as to break it into fifty pieces ; and then, sitting down on the outside of the cabin, she wrung her hands and moaned piteously, in the very excess of her sorrow. " Let us be going," said Darby, in a whisper. " There's no spaking to her when she's one of them fits on her." We moved silently from the hovel, and gained the road. My heart was full to bursting — shame and abasement overwhelmed ine, and I dared not look up. " Good-by, Peg: I hope we'll be better friends when we meet again," said Darby, as he passed out. She made no reply, but entered the cabin, from which, in an instant after, she emerged, carrying a lighted sod of turf in a rude wooden tongs. " Come along quick," said Darby, with a look of terror, "she's going to curse you." I turned round, transfixed and motionless. If my life depended en it, I could not have stirred a limb. The old woman by this time had knelt down on the road, and was muttering rapidly to herself — " Come along, I say," said Darby, pulling me by the arm. " And now," cried the hag aloud, " may bad luck be your shadow wherever you walk, with sorrow behind and bad hopes before you — may you never taste happiness nor ease, and, like this turf, may your heart be always burning here, and " I heard no more, for Darby, tearing me away by main force, dragged m ■ along the road, just as the hissing turf embers had fallen at my 1< et, where the hag had thrown them. Mi TOM BDUKE OF " OURS." 33 CHAPTER IV. MY WANDERINGS. I cannot deny it, the horrible imprecation I had heard uttered against me, seemed to fill up the cup of my misery. An outcast, without home, without a friend, this alone was wanting to overwhelm me with very wretchedness ; and as I covered my face with both hands, I thought my heart would break. " Come, come, Master Tom," said Darby, " don't be afeard, it 'ill never do you harm, all she said. I made the sign of the cross on the road between you and her with the end of my stick, and you're safe enough this time. Faix, she's a quare divil when she's roused — to destroy an illigint pot of praties that way ; but sure she had hard provocation — well, well, you warn't to blame any how : Tony Basset will have a sore reckoning some day for all this." The mention of that name recalled me in a moment to the conside- ration of my own danger if he were to succeed in overtaking me, and I eagerly communicated my fear to Darby. " That's thrue," said he ; " we must leave the high road, for Basset will be up at the house by this, and will lose no time in following you out. If you had a bit of something to ea-t." " As to that Darby," said I, with a sickly effort to smile, " Peg's curse took away my appetite, full as well as her potatoes would have done." "'Tis a bad way to breakfast after all," said Darby. "Do you ever take a shaugh of the pipe, Master Tom ?" " No," said I laughing, " I never learned to smoke yet." " Well," replied he, a little piqued by the tone of my answer, " 'tis worse you might be doin' than that same. Tobacco's a fine thing for the heart! Many's the time when I'm alone, if I hadn't the pipe, I'd be low and sorrowful — thinking over the hard times, and the like ; but when I've filled my dudeen, and do be watching the smoke curling up, I begin dhraming about sitting around the fire with pleasant companions, chatting away, and diseoorsing, and telling stories ; and then I invint the stories to myself, about quare devils of pipers travelling over the country, making love here and there, and playing dhroll tunes out cf their own heads ; and then I make the tunes to them ; and after that, maybe, I make words, and sometimes lay down the pipe and begin singing to myself; and often I take up the bagpipes and play away with all my might, 'till I think I see the darlingest little fairies ever you seen dancing before me, setting to one another, and turning round, and capering away — down the middle and up again : small chaps with three-cornered hats, and wigs, and little red coats, MESS, NO. XV. VOL. II, D 34 OTJR MESS. all slashed with goold ; and beautiful little craytures houlding their petticoats this way, to show a nate leg and foot ; and I do be calling out to them — 'hands round ' — ' that's your sowl ' — 'look at tlie green fellow — 'lis himself can do it ' — ' rise the jig, hoo !' and faix 'tis sorry enough I'm when they go, and lave me all alone by myself." " And how does all that come into your head, Darby ?" " Troth, 'tis hard to tell," said Darby, with a sigh ; " but my notion is, that the poor man that has neither fine houses, nor fine clothes, nor horses, nor sarvants to amuse him, that Providence is kind to him in another way, and fills his mind with all manner of dhroll thoughts, and quare stories, and bits of songs, and the like ; and lets him into many a sacret about fairies, and the good people, that the rich has no time lor: and sure you must have often remarked it, that the quality has never a bit of fun in them at all, but does be always coming to us for something to make them laugh. Did you never lave the parlour, when the company was sitting with lashings of wine and fruit, and every convaniency, and go down stairs to the kitchin, where maybe there was nothing but a salt herrin' and a jug of punch, and if you did, where was the most fun I wondher ? Arrah, when they bid me play a tune for them, and I look at their sorrowful, pale faces, and their dim eyes, and the stiff way they sit upon their chairs, I never put heart in it ; but when I rise, ' Dirty James,' or ' The Little Bould Fox,' or ' Kiss my Lady,' for the boys and girls, sure 'tis my whole sowl does be in the bag, and I squeeze the notes out of it with all my mi<>ht." In this way did Darby converse until we reached a cross road, when, coming to a halt, he pointed with his finger to the distance and said — " Athlone is down beyant that low mountain. Now Ned Malone's is only six short miles from this. You keep this by-road till you reach the smith's forge, then turn off to the lift, across the fields, till you come to an ould ruin, lave that to your right hand, and follow the boreen straight, 'twill bring you to Ned's doore." " Bat I don't know him," said I. " What signifies that — sure 'tis no need you have — tell him you'll stop there till Darby the Blast comes for you ; and see now, here's all you have to do — put your right thumb in the palm of your lift hand this way, and then kiss the other thumb, then you have it; but mind don't do that till you're alone with him — 'tis a token between ourselves*" " I wish you were coming with me, Darby — I'd rather not leave you !" " 'Tis myself mislikes it too," said Darby with a sigh ; " but I darn't - going to Athlone, the major would soon ferret me out — and it's worse it would be for me." " Ami what am 1 to do if Mr. Basset comes after me ?" " If he hattl't a throop of horse at his back, you may laugh at him in Ned Malone's; and now good-by, acushla, and don't let your heart be low — you'll be a man soon you know." ° "tf\ n ■ :k - *~ . * « tom BtrakE OF "OURS." 35 The words of encouragement could not have been more happily chosen to raise my drooping spirits : the sense of opening manhood was already stirring within me, and waited but for some direct occasion to elicit it in full vigour. I shook Darby's hand with a firm grasp, and, asuming the easiest smile I could accomplish, set out on the path before me, with all the alacity in my power. The first thought that shot across my mind when I parted with my companion, was the utter loneliness of my condition ; the next, and it followed imediately on the other, was the bold consciousness of personal freedom. I enjoyed at the moment the untrammelled liberty to wander, without let or control ; all memory of Tony Basset was forgotten, and I only remembered the restraint of school and the tyranny of my master. My plan — and already I had formed a plan — was, to become a farmer's servant — to work as a daily labourer. Ned Malone would probably accept of me, young as I was, in this capacity ; and I had no other ambition than such as secured my independence. As I travelled along, I wove within my mind a whole web of imaginary circumstances, of days of peaceful toil — of nights of happy and contented rest — of friendship formed with those of my own age and condi- tion — of the long summer evenings, when I should ramble alone to commune with myself on my humble but happy lot — on the red hearth in winter, around which the merry faces of the cottagers were beaming, as some pleasant tale was told ; and as I asked myself, would I exchange a life like this, for all the advantages of fortune my brother's position afforded him, my heart replied — no. Even then the words of the piper had worked upon me, and already had I connected the possession of wealth with oppression and tyranny, and the lowly fortunes of the poor man, as alone securing high-souled liberty of thought, and freedom of speech and action. I trudged along through the storm, turning from time to time to see that I was not pursued ; for as the day waned my fear of being overtaken increased, and in every moaning of the wind, and every rustle of the branches, I thought I heard Tony Basset summoning me to stop and surrender myself his prisoner. This dread gradually gave way, as the loneliness of the road was unbroken by a single traveller — the wild half-tilled fields presented no living object far or near — the thick rain swooped along the swampy earth, and, in its misty darkness, shut out all distant prospect, and a sadder picture eye never rested on. At length I reached the ruined church Darby spoke of, and following the track he indicated, soon came out upon the boreen, where for the first time some little shelter existed. It was only at night-fall, when fatigue and hunger had nearly obtained the victory over me, that I saw at some short distance in front, the long roof of a well-thatched cabin ; as I came nearer, I coidd perceive that it contained several windows, and that the door was sheltered by a small porch — marks of comfort by no means common among the neighbouring farmers — lights moved here and there through 36 OUR MESS. the cabin, and the voices of people driving in the cows, and the barking of dogs, were welcome sounds to my ear. A half-clad urchin, of some seven years old, armed with a huge bramble, was driving a flock of turkeys before him as I approached ; but instead of replying to my question, " If this were Ned Malone's ?'' the little fellow threw down his weapon, and ran for his life. Before I could recover from my surprise at his strange conduct, the door opened, and a large, powerful- looking man, in a long, blue coat, appeared. He carried a musket in his hand, which, as soon as he perceived the figure before him, he laid down within the porch, calling out to some one inside — "Go back, Maurice— it's nothing. Well, sir," continued he, ad- dressing me, " do you want anybody hereabouts ?" " Is this Ned Malone's, may I ask ?" said I. " It is," answered he, " and I am Ned Malone, at your service, and what then ?" There was something in the cold, forbidding tone in which he spoke as well as in the hard severity of his look, that froze all my resolution to ask a favour, and I would gladly have sought elsewhere for shelter for the night, had I known where to look. The delay this indecision on my part created caused him to repeat his question, while he fixed his eyes on me with a dark and piercing expression. " Darby the Blast told me," said I, with a great effort to seem at ease, "that you would give me shelter to-night. To-morrow morning he's to come here for me." "And who are you," said he, harshly, "that I'm to take into my house ? In these troublesome times, a man may ask the name of his lodger ?" '• My name is Burke. My father was Burke of Cremore, but he's dead now." " 'Tis you that Basset is after all day — is it ?" " I can't tell, but I fear it may be." " Well, some one told him that you took the Dublin road, and another sent him up here, and the boys here sent him to Durragh. And what are you after, young gentleman ? do you dislike Tony Basset? Is that it?" "Yes," said I, " I'm resolved never to go home and live with him. lie made my father hate me, and through him I have been left a beggar." " There's more than you has a score to settle with Tony. Come into the house and get your clothes dried But stop, 1 have a bit of a caution to give you. If you see any thing or any body while you're under my roof that you didn't expeet " " Trust me there," interrupted I, eagerly, and making the sign the piper had taught me. "What!' cried Malone, in astonishment, "are you one of us? Is a son of Matt Burke's going to redress the wrongs his father and grandfather before him inflicted? Give me your hand, my brave boy; there's nothing in this house isn't your own from this minit." TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 37 I grasped his strong hand in mine, and with a proud and swelling heart followed him into the cabin. A whisper crept round the various persons that sat and stood about the kitchen fire as I appeared among them ; and the next moment one after another pressed anxiously forward to shake hands with me. " Help him off with his wet clothes, Maurice," said Malone, to a young man of some twenty years ; and in a few seconds my wet garments were hung on chairs before the blaze, and I myself, accom- modated with a frize coat that would make a waistcoat for an elephant, sat basking before the cheerful turf fire. The savoury steam of a great mess of meat and potatoes induced me to peep into the large pot over the fire — a hearty burst of laughing from the whole party acknow- ledged their detection of my ravenous hunger, and the supper w r as smoking on the board in a few minutes after. Unhappily, a ^ood number of years have rolled over my head 6ince that night ; but I still hesitate to decide whether to my appetite or to Mrs. Malone's cookery I should attribute it, but certainly my performance on that occasion called forth unqualified admiration. I observed, during the supper, that one of the girls carried a plateful of the savoury dish into a small room at the end of the kitchen, care- fully closing the door after her as she entered, and when she came out exchanging with Malone a few hurried words, to which the attention of the others was evidently directed. The caution I had already re- ceived, and my own sense of propriety, prevented my paying any attention to this, and I conversed with those about me, freely narrating the whole circumstances of my departure from home, my fear of Basset, and my firm resolve, come what might, never to become an inmate of his house and family. Not all the interest they took in my fortunes, nor even their warm praises of what they called my courage and manliness, could ward off the tendency to sleep ; and my eyes actually closed as I lay down in my bed, and, notwithstanding the noise of voices and the sounds of laughter so near me, sank into the heaviest slumber. r 9 i n - 6 38 DUB M CHAPTER V. THE CAT. IX. Before day broke, the stir and bustle of the household awoke me ; and had it not been for the half-open door which permitted a view of the proceedings in the kitchen, I should have been sadly puzzled to remember where I was. The cheerful turf fire, the happy faces, and the pleasant voices, all reminded me of the preceding night, and I lay ] mndering over my fortunes, and revolving within myself many a plan for the future. In all the dny-dreams of ambition in which youth indulges, there is this advantage over the projects of maturer years — the past never mingles with the future. In after life our by-gone existence is ever tinging the time to come: the expectations friends have formed of ur, the promises we have made to our own hearts, the hopes we have created — seem to pledge us to something, which, if unattained, sounds like failure ; but in earlier years, the budding consciousness of our ability to reach the goal does but stimulate us, and never chills our efforts by the dread of disappointment. We have, as it were, only'Dound ourselves in recognizances with our own hearts — the world lias not gone bail for us, and our falling short involves not the ruin of others, nor the loss of that self respect which is but the reflex of the opinion of suciety. I felt this strongly ; and the more I ruminated on it, the more resolutely bent was I to adopt some bold career — some enterprising path, where ambition should supply to me the pleasures and excitements that others found among friends and home. I now perceived how unsuitable would be to me the quiet monotony of a peasant's life — how irksome the recurrence of the same daily occupations, the routine of ceaseless labour, the intercourse with those whose views and hopes strayed not beyond their own hedge-rows. A soldier's life appeared to realize all that I looked for; but then, the conversation of the piper recurred to me, and I remembered how he painted these men to me as mere hireling bravos, to whom glory or fame were nothing, merely actuated by the basest passions, the slaves of tyranny. All the atrocities he mentioned of the military in the past year came up before me, and with them the brave resistance of the people in their struggle for independence. IIow my heart glowed with enthusiasm as I thought over the bold stand they had made, and how I panted to be a man, and linked in such a cause. Every gloomy circumstance in my own fate seemed as the result of that grinding Oppression under which my country suffered, even to the curse vented on me by one whose ruin and desolation lay at my own father's door. My temples throbbed, and my heart beat painfully against lay side ; as TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 30 I revolved those thoughts within me ; and when I rose from my bed that morning I was a rebel with all my soul. The day, like the preceding one, was stormy and inclement. The rain poured down without ceasing, and the dark, louring sky gave no promise of better tilings. The household of the cottage remained all at.home, find betook themselves to such occupations as indoor permitted. The women sat down to their spinning-wheels — some of the men employed themselves in repairing their tools, and others in making nets for fishing; but all were engaged. Meanwhile, amid the sounds of labour were mixed the busy hum of merry voices, as they chatted away pleasantly, with many a story and many a song lightening the long hours of the dark day. As for me, I longed impatiently for Darby's return — a thousand half-formed plana were flitting through my mind, and I burned to hear whether Basset was still in pursuit of me — what course he was adopting to regain me within his control — if Darby had seen my friend Bubbleton, and whether he showed any dis- position to befriend and protect me. These and such like thoughts kept passing through my mind ; and as the storm would shake the rude door, I would stand up with eagerness, hoping every moment to see him enter. But the clay moved on, and the dusky half-light of a wintry afternoon was falling, and Darby made not his appearance. When I spoke of him to the others, they expressed no surprise at his absence, merely remarking that he was always uncertain — no one knew when to expect him — that he rarely came when they looked for him, and constantly dropped in when no one anticipated it. " There he is now, then," said one of the young men, springing up and opening the door — " I hear his voice in the glen." " Do you see him, Maurice 7" cried Malone. " Is it him?" The young man stepped back, his face pale as death, and his mouth partly open. He whispered a word in the old man's ear, to which the other responded — ''Where?" The youth pointed with his finger. "How many are they ?" was his next question, while his dark eye glanced towards the old musket that hung on the wall above the fire. " Too many, too many for us," said Maurice, bitterly. The women, who had gathered around the speaker, looked at each other with an expression of utter wretchedness, when one of them, breaking from the others, rushed into the little inner room off the kitchen, and slammed the door violently behind her. The next instant the sound of voices was heard from the room, as if in altercation. Malone turned round at once, and, throwing the door wide open, called out — " Be quiet, I say. There's not a moment to be lost. Maurice, put that gun away — Shamus, take up your net again — sit down, girls." At the same instant he drew from his bosom a long horse pistol, and, having examined the loading and priming, replaced it within his waistcoat, and sat down on a chair beside the fire, his strongly-marked countenance fixed on the red blaze, while his lips muttered rapidly some words to himself. '* Are ye ready there ?" he cried, as his eyes were turned towards the small door. 40 OUR MESS. " In a min't," said the woman from within. At the same instant the sounds of voices and the regular tramp of men marching were heard without. " Halt ! stand at ease," called out a deep voice, and the clank of the muskets as they fell to the ground Avas heard through the cahin. Meanwhile, every one within had resumed his previous place and occupation, and the huz of voices resounded through the kitchen, as though no interruption whatever had taken place. The latch was now lifted, and a sergeant, stooping to permit his tall feather to pass in, entered, followed by a man in plain clothes. The latter was a short, powerfully-built man, of about fifty ; Ids hair of a grizzly grey, contrasted with the deep purple of his counte- nance, which was swollen and bloated — the mouth, its most remarkable feature, was large and thick-lipped — the under lip projecting con- siderably forward, and having a strange, convulsive motion when he was not speaking. " It's a hard day, Mister Barton," said Malone, rising from his seat, and stroking down his hair with one hand. " Won't ye come over and take an air of the fire?" " I will, indeed, Ned," said he, taking the proffered seat, and stretching out his legs to the blaze. " It's a severe season we have. I don't know how the poor are to get in the turf; the bogs are very wet entirely." " They are, indeed, sir ; and the harvest 'ill be very late getting in now," said one of the young men, with a most obsequious voice. " Won't ye sit down, sir ?" said he to the sergeant. A nod from Mister Barton in acquiescence decided the matter, and the sergeant was seated. "What's here, Mary?" said Barton, striking the large pot that hung over the fire with his foot. " It's the boys' dinner, sir," said the girl. " I think it wouldn't be a bad job if we joined them," replied he, laughingly — eh, sergeant ?" " There'ill be enough for us all," said Malone — " and I'm sure ye're welcome to it." The table was quickly spread, the places next the fire being reserved for the strangers ; while Malone, unlocking a cupboard, took down a Dottle of whiskey, which lie placed before them, remarking, as he did so — " Don't be afeard, gentlemen — 'tis parliament." " That's right, Malone. I like a man to be loyal in these bad times ; there's nothing like it. Faith, Mary, you're a good cook — that's as savoury a stew as ever I tasted. Where's Patsey now ? I haven't teen liirn for some time." The girl's face grew dark-red, and then became suddenly as pale ; when, staggering back, she lifted her apron to her face, and leaned against the dresser. " He's transported for life," said Malone, in a deep sepulchral voice, while all his efforts to conceal agitation were fruitless. " Oh, I remember," said Barton, carelessly — " he was in the dock TOM BURKE OP " OURS." 41 with the Hogans I'll take another bone from you Ned Sergeant, that's a real Irish dish, and no bad one either." " What's doing at the town to-day ?" said Malone, affecting an air of easy indifference. " Nothing remarkable I believe ; they have taken up that rascal, Darby the Blast, as they call him. The major had him under examination this morning for two hours ; and they say, he'll give evidence against the Dillons a little more fat if ye please money, you know, Ned, will do any thing these times." " You ought to know that, sir," said Maurice, with such an air of assumed innocence, as actually made Barton look ashamed. In an instant, however, he recovered himself, and pretended to laugh at the remark. " Your health, sergeant — Ned Malone, your health — ladies, yours, and boys the same." A shower of " thank ye, sir's," followed this piece of unlooked-for courtesy. " Who's that boy there, Ned ?" said he pointing to me, as I sat with my eyes rivetted upon him. " He's from this side of Banagher, sir," said Malone, evading the question." " Come over here, younker. What's his name ?" " Tom," sir. " Come over, Tom, till I teach you a toast. Here's a glass, my lad — • hold it steady, till I fill you a bumper. Did you ever hear tell of the croppies ?" " No, never." " Never heard of the croppies ! well you're not long in Ned Malone's company anyhow — eh? ha! ha! ha! Well, my man, the croppies is another name for the rebels, and the toast I'm going to give you is about them. So mind you finish it at one pull — here now, are you ready ?" " Yes, quite ready," said I, as I held the brimming glass straight before me. " Here's it then : ' May every croppy taste the rope, And fiiid some man to bang them ; May Bagnal Harvey and the pope Have Heppenstal to hang them.' " I knew enough of the meaning of his words to catch the allusion, and dashing the glass with all my force against the wall, I smashed it in a hundred pieces. Barton sprang from his chair, his face dark with passion, clutching me by the collar with both hands he cried out, " Holloa there without, bring in the handcuffs here. As sure as my name's Sandy Barton, we'll teach you that toast practically, and that ere long." " Take care what you do there," said Malone fiercely ; " that young gentleman is a son of Matthew Burke of Cremore ; his relatives are not the kind of people figure in your riding-house." " Are you a son of Matthew Burke ?" " I am." 42 cm MESS. '• What brings you hero then ? — why are you not at borne r" " By what right do you dare to ask me ? I have yet to learn bow far I ana responsible for where I go, to a thief-catcher." " You hear that, sergeant, you heard him use a word to bring me into contempt before the people, and excite them to use acts of violence towards me." " No such thing, Mister Barton," said Malone coolly ; " nobody here has any thought of molesting you. I told you that young gentleman's name and condition, to prevent you making any mistake concerning him ; for his friends are not the people to trifle with." This artfully-put menace had its effect ; Barton sat down again, and appeared to reflect for a few minutes, then taking a roll of paper from his pocket, he began leisurely to peruse it — the silence at this moment was something horribly oppressive. " This is a search-warrant, Mr. Malone," said Barton, laying down the paper on the table, " empowering me to seek for the body of a cer- tain French officer, said to be concealed in these parts. Informations on oath state that he passed, at least, one night under your roof. As In' has not accepted the amnesty granted to the other officers in the late famous attempt against the peace of this country, the law will deal with him as strict justice may demand ; at the same time, it is right you Bhoold know that harbouring or sheltering him, under these circum- stances, involves the person or persons so doing in his guilt. Mr. Mai one's well-known and tried loyalty," continued Barton, with a half grin of most malicious meaning, " would certainly exculpate him from any suspicion of this nature; but sworn informations are stubborn tilings, and it is possible that, in ignorance of the danger such a pro- ceeding would involve ' " I thought the thrubbles was over, sir," interrupted Malone, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, " and that an honest, industri- ous man, that minded his own business, had nothing to fear from any one." " And you thought right," said Barton, slowly and deliberately, while he scanned the other's features with a searching look ; " and that is the very fact I'm come to ascertain; and now, with your leave, we'll first search the house and offices ; and then I'll put a little interrogatory to such persons as I think fit, touching this affair." " You're welcome to go over the cabin whenever you like," said Malone, rising, and evidently labouring to repress his passionate indig- nation at Barton's coolness. Barton stood up at the same moment, and giving a wink at the ser- geant to follow, walked towards the small door I've already mentioned. Malone's wife at this started, forward, and, catching Barton's arm, whis- pered a faw words in his ear. " She must be a very old woman by this time," said Barton, fixing hi- sharp eyea on the speaker. " Upwards of ninety, sir, and bed-ridden for twelve years," said the woman, wiping a :• v with her apron. " And how comes it she's so afraid of the soldiers, if she's dotting?''' % TOM BURKE OF " Oi;i:S." " Arrali, they used lo frighten her so much, coining in at night, and firing sliots at the doore, and drinking, and singing songs, that she never got over it, and that's the rayson. I'll beg of your honour not to bring in the sergeant, and to disturb her only as little as you can, for it sets her raving about battles and murders, and it's maybe ten days before we'll get her mind at ease again." " Well, well, I'll not trouble her," said he quickly. " Sergeant, step back for a moment." With this he entered the room, followed by the woman, whose uncertain step and quiet gesture seemed to suggest caution. " She's asleep, sir," said she, approaching the bed. " It's many a day since she had as fine a sleep as that. 'Tis good luck you brought us this morning, Mister Barton." " Draw aside the curtain a little," said Barton in a low voice, as if fearing to awake the sleeper. "'Tis rousing her up, you'll be, Mister Barton. She feels the light at wanst." " She breathes very long for so old a woman," said he somewhat louder, "and has a good broad shoulder too. I'd like if it was only for curiosity just to see her face a little closer. 1 thought so. Come, captain, it's no use " A scream from the woman drowned the remainder of the speech, while at the same instant one of the young men shut to the outside door, and barred it. The sergeant was immediately pinioned with his hands behind his back, and Malone drew his horse pistol from his bosom, and holding up his hand, called out — " Not a word — not a word. If ye spake, it will be the last time ever you'll do so," said he to the sergeant. At the same moment the noise of a scuffle was heard in the inner room, and the door burst suddenly open, and Barton issued forth, dragging in his strong hands the figure of a young, slightly-formed man. His coat was off, but his trowsers were braided with gold, in military fashion ; and his black moustache denoted the officer. The struggle of the youth to get free was utterly fruitless — Barton's grasp was on his collar, and he held him as though he were a child. Malone stooped down towards the fire, and opening the pan of his pistol, examined the priming; then slapping it down again he stood erect. " Barton,'' said he, in a tone of firm determination I heard him use for the first time — " Barton, it's bad to provoke a man with the halter round his neck. I know what's before me well enough now. But, see, let him escape — give him two hours to get away — and here I'll surrender myself your prisoner, and follow you where you like." " Break in the door there, blast ye," was the reply to this offer, as Barton shouted to the soldiers at the top of his voice. Two of the young men darted forward as he spoke and threw themselves against it. " Fire through it," cried Barton, stamping with passion. " You will have it, will you then," said Malone, as he ground his teeth in anger; then raising his pis, iol he sprang forward, and hold- 44 OUR MESS. ing it within a yard of Barton's face, shouted out, "there." The powder flashed in the lock, and quick as its own report, Barton hurled the Frenchman round to protect him from the ball, but only in time to receive the shot in his right arm as he held it uplifted. The arm fell powerless to his side, while Malone springing on him like a tiger, grasped him in his powerful grip, and they both rolled upon the ground in terrible conflict. The Frenchman stood for an instant like one transfixed, then bursting from the spot dashed through the kitchen to the small room I had slept in. One of the young men followed him. The crash of glass, and the sounds of breaking wood-work were heard among the other noises, and at the same moment the door gave way in front, and the soldiers with fixed bayonets entered at a charge. " Fire on them ! fire on them!" shouted Barton, as he lay struggling on the ground ; and a random volley rang through the cabin, filling it with smoke. A yell of anguish burst forth at the moment, and one of the women lay stretched upon the hearth, her bosom bathed in blood. The scene was now a terrible one ; for although overpowered by numbers, the young men rushed on the soldiers, and, regardless of wounds, endeavoured to wrest their arms from them. The bayonets glanced through the blue smoke, and shouts of rage and defiance rose up amid frightful screams of suffering and woe. A bayonet stab in the side, received I know not how, sent me half fainting into the little room, through which the Frenchman had escaped. The open window being before me, I did not deliberate a second, but, mounting the table, crept through it, and fell heavily on the turf outside. In a moment after I rallied, and staggering onwards, reached a potato-field, where, over- come by pain and weakness, I sank into one of the furrows, scarcely conscious of what had occurred. Weak and exhausted as I was, I could still hear the sounds of the conflict that raged within the cabin. Gradually, however, they grew fainter and fainter, and at last subsided altogether. Yet I feared to stir; and although night was now falling, and the silence continued un- broken, I lay still, hoping to hear some well-known voice, or even tie footstep of some one belonging to the house ; but all was calm, and nothing; stirred. The verv air, too, was hushed : not a leaf moved in the thin frosty atmosphere. The dread of finding the soldiers in pos- - session of the cabin made me fearful of quitting my hiding-place, and I did not move. Some hours had passed over, ere I gained courage enough to raise my head, and look about me. My first glance was directed towards the distant high-road, where I expected to have seen some of the party who attacked the cabin; but far as my eye could reach, no living thing was to be seen ; — my next was towards the cabin, which, to my horror and amazement, I 60011 perceived was enveloped in a thick, dark smoke, that rolled lazily from the windows and doorway, and even issued from the thatched roof. As I looked, I could hear the crackling of timber and the 6ound of wood burning. These continued to increase ; and then a red forked flame shot through one of the casements, and, turning upwards, caught the thatch, where, passing rapidly across the entire roof, it burst into a TOM BURKE OF "OURS." 45 broad sheet of fire, which died out again as rapidly, and left the gloomy smoke triumphant. Meanwhile a roaring sound, like that of a furnace, was heard from within ; and at last, with an explosion like a mortar, the roof burst open, and the bright blaze sprung forth ; the rafters were soon enveloped in fire, and the heated straw rose into the air, and floated in thin streaks of flame through the black sky. The door-cases and the window- frames were all burning, and marked their outlines against the dark walls ; and as the thatch was consumed, the red rafters were seen like the ribs of a skeleton, but they fell in one by one, sending up in their descent millions of red sparks into the dark air. The back wall of the cabin had given way to the heat, and through its wide fissure I could see the interior, now one mass of undistinguishable ruin ; nothing remained, save the charred and blackened walls. I sat gazing at this sad sight like one entranced : sometimes it seemed to me as a terrible dream ; and then the truth would break upon me with fearful force, and my heart felt as though it would burst far beyond my bosom. The last flickering flame died away ; the hissing sounds of the fire were stilled ; and the dark walls stood out against the bleak back-ground in all their horrible deformity, as I rose and entered the cabin. I stood within the little room where I had slept the night before, and looked out into the kitchen, around whose happy hearth the merry voices were so lately heard. I brought them up before me, in imagination, as they sat there. One by one I marked their places in my mind, and thought of the kindness of their welcome to me, and the words of comfort and encouragement they spoke. The hearth was now cold and black ; the pale stars looked down between the walls, and a chili moonlight flickered through the gloomy ruin. My heart had no room for sorrow, but another feeling found a place within it — a savage thirst for vengeance — vengeance upon those who had desecrated a peaceful home, and brought blood and death among its inmates ! Here was the very realization before my eyes of what M'Keown had been telling me ; here the horrible picture he had drawn of tyranny and outrage. In these humble cottagers I saw but simple-minded peasants, who had opened their doors to some poor unfriended outcast — one who, like myself, had neither house nor home : I saw them offering their hospitality to him who sought it, freely and openly ; and at last, adventuring all they possessed in the world, rather than betray him — and their reward was this. Oh, how my heart revolted at such oppression ; how my spirit fired at such indignity ; I thought a life passed in opposition to such tyranny were too short a vengeance, and I knelt me down beside that blackened hearth, and swore myself its enemy to the death, 46 ouri mess CHAPTER VI. MY EDUCATION. As I thought over the various incidents the last few days of my life had presented, I began to wonder with myself whether the world always went on thus ; and if the same scenes of misery and woe I had wit- ed were in the ordinary course of nature. The work of ye;trs Beemed to me to have been accomplished in a few brief hours. Here, Where I stood, but yesterday, a happy family were met together; and now, death and misfortune hud laid waste the spot ; and, save the cold walls, nothing marked it as a human habitation. What had become of them? Where had they gone to? Had they fled from the blood- stained hands of the cruel soldiery, or were they led away to prison? These were the questions constantly recurring to my mind : and the French oflicer, too — what of him ? I felt the deepest interest in his fate. Poor fellow! he looked so pale and sickly; and yet there was something both bold and manly in his flashing eye and compressed lip. He was doubtless one of those Darby alluded to. What a lot was his ; and how little did my own sorrows seem, as I compared them with his houseless, friendless condition! As my thoughts thus wandered on, a dark shadow fell across the gleam of moonlight that lit up the ruined cabin. I turned suddenly, and saw the figure of a man leaning against the door-post. For a second or two fear was uppermost in my mind, but rallying soon, I called out — " Who's there?" " 'Tis me, Darby M'Keown," said a well-known voice, but in a tone of deepest sorrow : " I came over to have a look at the ould walls once more." " You heard it all, then, Darby ?" " Yes : they wor bringing the prisoners into Athlone as I left the town ; and I thought to myself you'd maybe be hiding somewhere here- abouts. Is the captain away — is he safe?" " The French oflicer — yes — he escaped early in the business. I know he must be far off by this time. Heaven knows which way though." " .Maybe I could guess," said Darby, quietly. " Well, well, it's hard to know what's best. Sometimes it would seem the will of God that we aren't to succeed ; and, if we hadn't right on our side, it would not be easy to bear up against such misfortunes as these." There was a silence on both sides after these words, during which I pondered them well in iny mind. "Come, Master Tom," said Darby, suddenly; "'tis time we were moving. You're not safe here no more nor others. Basset is looking for you everywhere, and you'll have to leave the neighbourhood for a TOM BURKE OF " OTTOS." 47 While, at least. Your friend, the captain, too, is -gone; his regiment marched yesterday ; so now make up your mind what to do." " That's easily done, Darby," said I, attempting to seem at ease ; " whichever is your road shall be mine, if you let me." "Let you — yes, with a hearty welcome, too, my darling; but the first thing is to get you some clothes that won't discover on you. Here's a hat I squeezed into my own that 'ill just fit you, and I've a coat here that's about your size — that's enough for the present, and as we go along I'll teach you your part, how you are to behave, and he'll be no fool that 'ill find you out after ten days or a fortnight." My change of costume was soon effected, and my wound, which turned out to be a trifling one, looked after ; I took a farewell look at the old walls, and stepped after my companion down the boreen. " If we make haste," said Darby, "we'll be beyond Shannon harbour before day ; and then, when we're on the canal, we'll easy get a lift in some of the boats going to Dublin." " And are you for Dublin ?" inquired I, eagerly. " Yes : I'm to be there on the twenty-fourth of this month, please God. There's a meeting of the friends of Ireland to be then, and some resolutions will be taken about what's to be done. There's bad work going on in the parliament." " Indeed, Darby ! what is it ?" " Oh ! you couldn't understand it well : but it's just as if we warn't to have any thing to say to governing ourselves, only be made slaves of, and sent abroad to fight for the English, that always hate us and abuse us." " And are we going to bear with this ?" cried I, passionately. " No," said Darby, laying his hand on my shoulder — " no, not at least if we had twenty thousand like you, my brave boy. But you'll hear every thing yourself soon ; and now, let me attend to your educa- tion a bit, for we're not out of the enemy's country." Darby now commenced his code of instruction to me, by which I learned that I was to perform a species of second to him in all minstrelsy — not exactly on the truest principles of harmony, but merely alternating with him in the verses of his songs. These, which were entirely of his own composition, were ail to be learned, and orally, too, for Mister M'Keown was too jealous of his copyright ever to commit them to writing, and especially charged me never to repeat any lyric in the same neighbourhood. "It's not only the robbery I care for," quoth Darby, "but the varmint destroys my poethry completely — sometimes changing the words, injuring the sentiments, and even altering the tune. Now, it's only last Tuesday I hecrd ' Behave politely' to the tune of ' Look how he sarved me.' " Besides the musical portion of my education, there was another scarcely less difficult to be attended to: this was, the skilful adaptation of our melodies not only to the prevailing tastes of the company, but to their political and party bearings — Darby supplying me with various 4S OVR MESS. hints how I was to discover at a moment the peculiar bias of any stranger's politics. " The boys," said Darby, thereby meaning his own party, " does be always sly and careful, and begin by asking, maybe, for ' Do you incline ?' or ' Crows in the barley,' or the like. Then they'll say, ' Have you any thing new, Mister M'Keown, from up the counthry ?' ' Something sweet, is it?' says I. 'Ay, or sour, av ye have it,' they'll say. ' Maybe ye'd like Vinegar-hill, then,' says I. Arrah, you'd see their faces redden up with delight, and how they'll beat time to every stroke of the tune — it's a pleasure to play for them. But the yeos (meaning the yeomen) will call out mightily — 'Piper — holloa there, piper, I say — rise the Boyne Water, or Croppies lie down.' " " And, of course, you refuse, Darby ?" " Refuse — refuse, is it — and get a bayonet in me ? Devil a bit, my dear. I'll play it up with all the spirit I can; and nod my head to the tune, and beat the time with my heel and toe ; and, maybe, if I see need of it, I fasten this to the end of the chaunter, and that does the business entirely." Here Darby took from the lining of his hat a bunch of orange ribbon, whose faded glories showed it had done long and active service in the cause of loyalty. I confess Darby's influence over me did not gain any accession of power by this honest avowal of his political expediency ; and the bold assertion of a nation's wrongs, by which, at first, he won over my en- thusiasm, seemed sadly at variance with this truckling policy. He was quick-sighted enough to perceive what was passing in my mind, and at once remarked — " 'Tis a hard part we're obliged to play, Master Tom, but one com- fort we have — it's only a short time we'll need it. You know the song. Here he broke into the popular tune of the day : — " And the French will come again, Says the Shan van vaugh, And thcj'll bring ten thousand men, Says tho Shan van vaugh, And, ivith powder and with ball, For onr rights we'll londly call; Don't you think they'll hear us then? Says the Shan van vaugh. " Ye must lam that air, Master Tom; and see, now, the yeos is as fond of it as the boys, only remember to put their own words to it ; and divil a harm in that same, when one's not in earnest. See, now, I believe it's a natural pleasure for an Irishman to be humbugging some- body ; ;md, fjiix, when there's nobody by, he'd rather be taking a rise out of himself than doing nothing. It's the way that's in us, God help us ! Sure it's that same makes us sich favourites with the ladies, and gives us a kind of native ganius for coortin' — TOM BURKE OF " OCRS." 49 "'Tis the look of his eyo And a way he can sigh Makes Paddy a darlin' wherever he {joes ; With a sugary brogue, Ye'd hear the rogue Cheat the girls before their nose. " And why not ? — Don't they like to be ehated, when they're sure to win after all ? — to win a warm heart and a stout arm to fight for them." This species of logic I give, as a specimen of Mister M'Keown's power of — if not explaining away a difficulty — at least, getting out of all reach of it — an attribute almost as Irish as the cause it was employed to defend. As we journeyed along, Darby maintained a strict reserve as to the event which had required his presence in Athlone, nor did he allude to the major but passingly, observing that — " He didn't know how it happened that a Dublin magistrate should have come up to these parts, though, to be sure, he's a great friend of the Right Honourable." " And who is he ?'' asked I. " The Right Honourable ! Don't you know, then ? Why, I didn't think there was a child in the county couldn't tell that. Sure, it's Denis Browne himself." The name seemed at once to suggest a whole flood of recollections, and Darby expatiated for hours long on the terrible power of a man, in whose hands life and death were distributed, without any aid from judge or jury — thus opening to me another chapter of the lawless tyranny to which he was directing my attention, and by which he already saw my mind was greatly influenced. About an hour after daybreak we arrived at> a small cabin, which served as a lock-house on the canal side. It needed not the cold, murky sky, nor the ceaseless pattering of the rain, to make this place look more comfortless and miserable than any thing I had ever beheld. Around, for miles in extent, the country was one unbroken flat, without any trace of wood, or even a single thorn hedge, to relieve the eye. Low, marshy meadows, where the rank flaggers and reedy grass grew tall and luxuriant, with here and there some stray patches of tillage, were girt round by vast plains of bog, cut up into every variety of trench and pit. The cabin itself, though slated and built of stone, was in bad repair, the roof broken in many places, and the window mended with pieces of board, and even straw. As we came close, Darby remarked that there was no smoke from the chimney, and that the door was fastened on the outside. " That looks bad," said he, as he stopped short about a dozen paces from the hovel, and looked steadily at it ; " they've taken him too." " Who is it, Darby ?" said I. " What did he do ?" M'Keown paid no attention to my question, but unfastening the hasp which attached the door, without any padlock, entered. The fire was yet alive on the hearth, and a small stool, drawn close to it, showed MESS, NO. XV. VOL. II. E 50 OUR, MESS. ■where some one had been silting : there was nothing unusual in the appearance of the cabin ; the same humble furniture and cooking utensils lying about, as were seen in any other. Darby, however, scrutinized every thing most carefully ; looking everywhere, and into every thing, till, at last, reaching his hand above the door, he pulled out, from the straw of the thatch, a small piece of dirty and crumpled paper, which he opened with the greatest care and attention ; and then flattening it out with his hand, began to read it over to himself, his eve flashing, and his cheek growing redder, as he pored over it. At last he broke silence with — "'Tis myself never doubted ye, Tim, my boy. Look at that, Master Tom — but sure you wouldn't understand it, after all. The yeos took him up last night. 'Tis something about cutting the canal, and attacking the boat, that's again him ; and he left that there — that bit of paper, to give the boys courage that he wouldn't betray them. That's the way the cause will prosper — if we'll only stick by each other. For many a time, when they take a man up, they spread it about that he's turned informer against the rest, and then the others gets careless, and don't mind whether they're taken or not." Darby replaced the piece of paper carefully, and then, listening for a moment, exclaimed — " I hear the boat coming ; let's wait for it outside." While he employed himself in getting his pipes into readiness, I could not help ruminating on the strength of loyalty to each other the poor people observed amid every temptation and every seduction — how, in the midst of such misery as theirs, neither threats nor bribery seemed to influence them, was a strong testimony in favour of their truth, and to such a reasoner as I was, a no less cogent argument for the goodness of the cause that elicited such virtues As the boat came alongside, I remarked that the deck was without a passenger ; heaps of trunks and luggage littered it the entire way ; but the severity of the weather had driven every one under cover, except the steersman and the captain, who, both of them wrapped up in thick coats of frize, seemed like huge bears standing on their hind quarters. " How are you, Darby ?" shouted the skipper ; " call out that lazy rascal to open the lock." " I don't think he's at home, sir," said Darby, as innocently as though lie knew nothing of the reason for his absence. * " Not at home ! — the scoundrel, where can he be, then ? Come, youngster," cried lie, addressing me, " take the key there, and open the lock." Until this moment, I forgot the character which my dress and ap- pearance assigned to me ; but a look from the piper recalled me at once to recollection ; and, taking up the iron key, I proceeded, under Darby's instructions, to do what I was desired, while Darby and the captain amused themselves by wo idering what had become of Tim, and speculated on the immediate consequences his absence would bring down on him. TOM BURKS OF " OUB.S." 51 " Are yoa going with us, Darby ?" said the captain " Faix, I don't know, sir," said he, as it' hesitating ; " av there was any gentleman that liked the pipes — . — " " Yes, yes, come along, man," rejoined the skipper : " is the boy with you ? — very well — come in, youngster." We were soon under weigh again; and Darby, having arranged his instrument to his satisfaction, commenced a very spirited voluntary to announce his arrival. In an instant the cabin-door opened, and a red- faced, coarse-looking fellow, in uniform, called out — • " Holloa, there — is that a piper ?" " Yes, sir," said Darby, without turning his face round, while, at the same time, he put a question, in Irish, to the skipper, who answered it with a single word. " I say, piper, come down here," cried the yeoman, for such he was ; " come down here, and let's have a tune." " I'm coming, sir," cried Darby, standing up ; and holding out his hand to me, he called out, " Tom, alannah, lead me down stairs." I looked up in his face, and, to my amazement, perceived that he had turned up the white of his eyes, to represent blindness, and was groping with his hand, like one deprived of sight. As any hesitation on my part might have betrayed him at once, I took his hand, and led him along, step by step, to the cabin door. I had barely time to perceive that all the passengers were habited in uniform, when one of them called out — " We don't want the young fellow ; let him go back. Piper, sit down here." The motion for my exclusion was passed without a negative, and I closed the door, and sat down by myself among the trunks on deck. For the remainder of the day I saw nothing of Darby : the shouts of laughter and clapping of hands, below stairs, occasionally informing me how successful were his efforts to amuse his company ; while I had abundant time to think over my own plans, and make some resolu- tions for the future. 52 OUR MESS. CHAPTER VII. ; KEVIN-STKEET. How this long, melancholy day wore on I cannot say ; to me it was as gloomy in reverie as in its own dismal aspect : the very sounds of mirth that issued from the cahin beneath grated harshly on my ear ; and the merry strains of Darby's pipes and the clear notes of his rich voice seemed like treachery from one, who so lately had spoken in terms of heart-breathing emotion of his countrymen and their wrongs. While therefore my estimation for my companion suffered, my sorrow for the cause that demanded such sacrifices deepened at every moment, and I panted with eagerness for the moment when I might take my place among the bold defenders of my country, and openly dare our oppressors to the battle. All that M'Keown had told me of English tyranny and oppression was connected in my mind with the dreadful scene I had so lately been a witness to, and for the cause of which I looked no further than an act of simple hospitality. From this I wandered on to the thought of those brave allies who had deserted their career of continental glory to share our almost hopeless fortunes here ; and how I burned to knoAV them, and learn from them something of a soldier's ardour. Night had fallen, when the fitful flashing of lamps between the tall elms that lined the banks announced our approach to the capital. There is something dreadfully dejiressing in the aspect of a large city to the poor unfriended youth, who, without house or home, is starting upon his life's journey : the stir — the movement — the onward tide of popu- lation, intent on pleasure or business, are things in which he has no part. The appearance of wealth humiliates, while the sight of poverty affrights him ; and while every one is animated by some purpose, lie alone seems like a waif thrown on the shores of life, unclaimed — unlooked for. Thus did I feel among that busy crowd who now pressed to the deck, gathering together their luggage, and preparing for departure. Some home awaited each of these ; some hearth, some happy faces to greet their coming ; but I had none of these. This was a sorrowful thought ; and as I brooded over it, my head sank upon my knees, and I saw nothing of what was going forward about me " Tom," whispered a low voice in my ear — " Master Tom, don't delay, my dear : let us slip out here. The soldiers want me to go with them to their billets ; and I have promised — but I mean not to do it." I looked up. It was Darby, buttoned up in his coat, Ins pipes unfastened for the convenience of carriage. TOM BtJBKE OF " OURS." 53 " Slip out after me at the lock here. It's so dark, we'll never be seen." Keeping my eye on him, I elbowed my way through the crowded deck, and sprang out just as the boat began her forward movement. * Here we are all safe," said Darby, patting me on the shoulder ; '• and now that I've time to ask you, did you get your dinner, my child?" " Oh, yes ; the captain brought me something to eat." " Come, that's right anyhow ! Glory be to God ! I ate heartily of some bacon and greens, though the blackguards — bad luck to them for the same — made me eat an orange lily whole, afraid the greens, as they said, might injure me." "I wonder, Darby," said I, "that you haven't more firmness than to change this way at every moment ?" " Firmness, is it ? Faith it's firm enough I'd be, and stiff too, if I didn't sure it's the only way now at all. Wait, my honey, till the time comes round for ourselves, and faith you'll never accuse me of coorting their favour ; but now — at this moment, you perceive — we must do it to learn their plans. What do you think I got to-night ? I learned all the signs the yeos have when they're drinking together, and what they say at each sign. There's a way they have of gripping the two little fingers together — that I'll nut forget soon." For some time we walked on at a rapid pace, without exchanging more than an occasional word. At last we entered a narrow, ill- lighted street, which led from the canal harbour to one of the larger and wider thoroughfares. " I almost forget the way here," said Darby, stopping and looking about him. At last, unable to solve the difficulty, he leaned over the half-door of a shop, and called out to a man within — " Can you tell where is Kevin-street?" " No. 39?" says the man, after looking at him steadily for a moment. Darby stroked down one side of his face with his hand slowly, a gesture immediately imitated by the other man. " What do you know?" said Darby. . "I know ' U,' " replied the man. " And what more ?" "I know ir. Bingham, Colonel Loftus, The liigh* Hon. Denis Browne, 84 OUR MESS. Isaac Corry, and several others -who happened that day to be dining with the lord lieutenant, and were now on their way to the House of Commons. Nothing struck me so much in the scene, as the real or apparent know- ledge possessed by the mob of all the circumstances of each individual's personal and political career ; and thus the price for which they had been purchased — either in rank, place, or pounds sterling, was cried aloud amid shouts of derision and laughter, or the more vindictive yells of an infuriated populace. " Ha ! Ben, what are you to get for Baltinglass ? Boroughs is up in the market. Well, Dick, you won't take the place — nothing but hard cash. Don't be hiding, Jemmy. Look at the Prince of Orange, boys. A groan for the Prince of Orange ;" here a fearful groan from the mob echoed through the streets. "There's Luke Fox — ha! stole away ;" here followed another yell. With difficulty I elbowed my way through the densely-packed crowd, and at last reached the corner of George's-street, where a strong police force was stationed, not permitting the passage of any one either up or down that great thoroughfare. Finding it impossible to penetrate by this way, I continued along Dame-street, where I found the crowd to thicken as I advanced. Not only were the pathways, but the entire streets filled with people — through whom the dragoons could with difficulty force a passage for the carriages, which continued at intervals, to pass down. Around the statue of King William the mob was in its greatest force : not merely the railings around the statue, but the figure itself was surmounted by persons, who, taking advantage of their elevated and secure position, hurled their abuse upon the police and military with double bitterness ; these sallies of invective were always accompanied by some humorous allusion, which created a laugh among the crowd beneath, to which, as the objects of the ridicule were by no means insensible, the usual reply was by charging on the people, and a demand to keep back — a difficult precept when pressed forward by some hundreds behind them. As I made my way slowly through the moving mass, I could see that a powerful body of horse patrolled between the mob and the front of the College ; the space be- fore which and the iron railings being crammed with students of the University, for so their caps and gowns bespoke them. Between this party and the others, a constant exchange of abuse and insult was maintained, which even occasionally came to blows whenever any chance opportunity of coming in contact, unobserved by the soldiery, presented itself. In the interval between these rival parties, each member's carriago was obliged to pass, and here each candidate, for the honours of one and the execrations of the other, met his bane and antidote. " Ha ! broken beak, there you go ! bad luck to you. Ha ! old vulture, Flood." " Three cheers for Flood, lads," shouted a voice from the College, and in the loud cry the yells of their opponents were silenced, but only to break forth the next moment into further licence. TOM BURKF. OF " OURS." 85 " Here he conies, here he comes," said the mob ; " make way there or he'll take you flying. It's himself can do it. God bless your honour, and may you never want a good baste under ye." This civil speech was directed to a smart, handsome-looking man of about five and forty, who came dashing along on a roan thoroughbred, perfectly careless of the crowd, through which he rode with a smiling lace and a merry look. His leathers and tops were all in perfect jockey style, and even to his long-lashed whip he was in every thing a sports- manlike figure. " That's George Ponsonby," said a man beside me, in answer to my question ; " and I suppose you know who that is ?" A perfect yell from the crowd drowned my reply, and amid the mingled curses and execrations of the mass, a dark-coloured carriage moved slowly on ; the coachman evidently fearful at every step lest his horses should strike against some of the crowd, and thus license the outbreak that seemed only waiting an opportunity to burst forth. " Ha ! Bladderchops, Bloody Jack, are you there ?" shouted the savage ring-leaders as they pressed up to the very glasses of the carriage, and stared at the occupant. " Who is it ?" said I, again. " John Toler, the attorney-general." Amid deafening cries of vengeance against him, the carriage moved on, and then rose the wild cheers of the college men to wel- come their partizan. A hurrah from the distant end of Dame-street now broke on the ear, which, taken up by those nearer, swelled into a regular thunder, and at the same moment the dragoons cried out to keep back, a lane was formed in a second, and down it came, six smoking thoroughbreds ; the postillions in white and silver, cutting and spurring with all their might. Never did I hear such a cheer as now burst forth ; a yellow chariot, its panels covered with emblazonry, came flying past ; a hand waved in return from the window to the salutation of the crowd, and the name of Tom Conolly of Castletown rent the very air ; two outriders in their rich liveries followed, unable to keep their place through the thick mass that wedged in after the retiring equipage. Scarcely had the last echo of the voices subsided when a cheer burst from the opposite side, and a waving of caps and handkerchiefs pro- claimed that some redoubted champion of Protestant ascendancy was approaching. The crowd rocked to and fro as question after question poured in. " Who is it? who is coming," but none could tell, for as yet the car- riage, whose horses were heard at a smart trot, had not turned the corner of Grafton-street ; in a few moments the doubt seemed re- solved, for scarcely did the horses appear in sight when a perfect yell rose from the crowd and drowned the cheers of their opponents. I can- not convey any thing like the outbreak of vindictive passion that seemed to convulse the mob, as a splendidly-appointed carriage drove rapidly past and made towards the colonnade of the parliament-house. A rush of the people was made at the moment, in whieh : as in a wave, I was i OUR MESS. borne along in spite of mo. The dragoons with drawn sabres prised i the crowd, and a scene of frightful confusion followed; many were sorely wounded by the soldiers, some were trampled under foot, and on s poor wretch in an effort to recover himself from stumbling, was supposed to be stooping for a stone, and cut through the skull without mercy. IJ" Lay there insensible for some time, but at last a party of the crowd braying every thing, rushed forward and carried him away to an hospital; during this, I had established myself on the top of a lamp-post, which gave me a full view, not only of all the proceedings of the mob, but of the different arrivals as they drew up at the door of the house. The carriage whose approach had been signalized by all the>e disasters, had now reached the colonnade. The steps were lowered, and a young man of the very handsomest and most elegant appearance, descended slowly from the chariot; his dress was in the height of the reigning fashion, but withal, had a certain negli- gence that bespoke one who paid less attention to toilette than that his costume was a thing of course, which could not but be, like all about him, in the most perfect taste. In his hand he held a white handker- chief, which as he carelessly shook, the perfume floated over the savage- looking-half-naked crowd around; he turned to give some directions to his coachman, and at the same moment a dead cat was hurled bysome one in the crowd and struck him on the breast, a cry of exultation rending the very air in welcome of this ruffian act: as for him, he slowly moved his face round towards the mob, and as he brushed the dirt from his coat with his kerchief he bestowed on them one look, so full of immeasurable heartfelt contempt, that they actually quailed beneath it ; the cry grew fainter arid fainter, and il was only as he turned to enter the house that they recovered self-] ion, enough to renew their insulting shout. I did not need to ask the name, for the yell of bloody Castle- reagh shook the very air. " Make way there — make way, boys !" shouted a rough voice from the crowd, and a roar of laughter, that seemed to burst from the entire street, answered the command, and the same instant a large burly figure advanced through a lane made i'or him in the crowd, mopping his great bullet-head with a bright scarlet handkerchief. " Long life to you, Mr. Egan !" shout' d one. ' Three cheers for Bully Egan, boys S" cried another, and the appeal r< sponded to at once. •• Make way, you blackguards, make way I say," said Egan, affecting to be displeased at this display of his popularity — "don't you see who's coming?" Ever) eye was turned at once towards Daly's club-house, bich direction be pointed ; but it was some minutes before the dense crowd would permit any thing to be seen. Suddenly, however, a cheer ■• wilder and louder than any I had yet heard ; from the street to .cry housetops the cry was caught up and repeated, while a tumul- tuous joy seemed to rock the crowd as they moved to and fro. At this moment the excitement was almost maddening; evei - neck was ined in one direct ion, every eye pointed thither, while the prolonged ined with a roar as deafening as the sea in a storm T..M BTTRKE ov " ouns." 87 At lasl the crowd were forced hack, and I saw three gentlemen advancing abreast: the two outside ones were holding between them the weak and trembling figure of an old and broken man, whose emaciated form and withered face presented the very extreme of lassitude and weakness ; his loose coat hung awkwardly on his spare and shrunken form, and he moved along in a shuffling slip-shod fashion. As they mounted the steps of the parliament-house, the cheering grew wilder and more enthusiastic, and 1 wondered how he who was evidently the object, could seem so indifferent to the welcome thus given him, as with bent-down head he pressed on, neither turning right nor left. With seeming difficulty he was assisted up the steps, when he slowly turned round, and, removing his hat, saluted the crowd. The motion was a simple one, but in its very simplicity was its power. The broad white forehead across which some scanty hair floated ; the eye that now beamed proudly forth, was turned upon them, and never was the magic of a look more striking; for a second all was hushed, and then a very thunder of applause rolled out, and the name of* Henry Grattan burst from every tongue. Jusr. then one of the mob, exasperated by a stroke from the flat of a dragoon's sabre, had caught the soldier by the foot and flung him from his saddle to the ground ; his comrades flew to his rescue at once, and charged the crowd, which fell back before them. The college men taking advantage of this, sprang forward on the mob armed with their favourite weapons, their hurdles of strong oak; the street was imme- diately torn up behind, and a shower of paving stones poured in upon the luckless military, now completely hemmed in between both parties. Yells of rage and defiance rose on either side, and the cheers of the victors and cries of the wounded, were mixed in mad confusion. My lamp-post was no longer an enviable position, and I slipped gently down towards the ground ; in doing so, however, I unfortunately kicked off a ■ tier's cap. The man turned on me at once and collared me, and notwithstanding all my excuses insisted on carrying me off to the guard- house. The danger of such a thing at once struck me, and 1 resisted manfully. The mob cheered me, at which the soldier only became more angry ; and ashamed, too, at being opposed by a mere boy, he seized me rudely by the throat. My blood rose at this, and I struck boldly at him, my fist met him in the face, and before he could recover himself the crowd were upon him. Down he went, while a rush of the mob, escaping from the dragoons, flowed over his body ; at the same moment the shout " guard, turn out" was heard from the angle of the bank, and the clattering of arms and the roll of a drum followed. A cheer from ihe mob seemed to accept the challenge, and every hand was employed tearing up the pavement and preparing for the fray. Whether by my own self-appointment, or by common consent, I cannot say, but I at once took the leadership, and having formed the crowd into two parties, directed them, if hard pressed, to retreat either by College-street or West- moreland-street. Thus one party could assist the other by enfilading the a; mcking force, unless they were in sufficient strength to pursue both together. We had not long to wait the order of battle. The soldiers were formed in a second, and the word was given to advance at a charge, $8 OUR MF.SS. The same instant I stepped forward and cried, " Fire !" Never was an order so obeyed — a hundred paving stones showered down on the wretched soldiers, who fell here and there in the ranks. " Again !" 1 shouted to my second battalion, that stood waiting for the word, and down came another hail-storm, that rattled upon their caps and muskets, and sent many a stout fellow to the rear. A wild cheer from the mob proclaimed the victory, but at the same instant a rattling of ramrods, and a clank of firelocks, was heard in front ; and from the rear of the soldiers a company marched out in echelon, and drew up as if on parade. All was stilled, not a man moved in the crowd, indeed our tactics seemed now at an end, when suddenly the word, "make ready — • fire," was called out. and the same instant a ringing discharge of musketry tore through the crowd. Never did I witness such a scene as followed. All attempts to retreat were blocked up by the pressure from behind ; and the sight of the wounded, who fell by the discharge of the soldiers, seemed to paralyze every effort of the mob. One terrified cry rose from the mass, as they shrank from the muskets. Again the ramrods were heard clinking in the barrels. I saw there was but one moment, and cried out, " courage, lads, and down upon them !" and with that I dashed madly forward, followed by the mob that, like a mighty mass, now rolled heavily after me. The soldiers fell back as we came on ; their bayonets were brought to the charge, the word "fire low" was passed along the line, and a bright sheet of flame flashed forth, and was answered by a scream of anguish that drowned the crash of the fire. In the rush backwards I was thrown on the ground, and at first believed I had been shot, but I soon perceived I was safe and sprang to my legs ; but the same moment a blow on the head from the butt-end of a musket, smote me to the earth, and I neither saw nor heard of any thing very clearly afterwards. I had, indeed, a faint dreamy recollection of being danced upon and trampled by some hundred heavy feet, and then experiencing a kind of swinging, rocking motion, as if carried on something ; but these sensations are far too vague to reason upon, much less to chronicle. TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 89 CHAPTER XII. A CHARACTER. There must have been a very considerable interval from the moment I have last recorded to that in which I next became a responsible indi- vidual ; but in what manner, in what place, or in what company it was passed, the reader must excuse my divulging for many important reasons, one of which is, I never clearly knew any thing of the matter. To date my recollections from my first consciousness, I may state that I found myself on my back in a very narrow bed, a table beside me covered with phials and small flasks, with paper cravats, some of which hung down, queue fashion, to an absurd extent. A few rush- backed and bottomed chairs lay along the walls, which were coarsely whitewashed. A window, of very unclean and unprepossessing aspect, was partly shaded by a faded scarlet curtain, while the floor was equally sparingly decked with a small and ragged carpet. Where was I, was the frequent but unsatisfactory query I ever put to myself — could this be a prison — had I been captured on that riotous evening, and carried off to a gaol — or was I in Darby M'Keown's territory ; for, somehow, a very general impression was on my mind that Darby's gifts of ubiquity were somewhat remarkable ; or, lastly, (and the thought was not a pleasant one,) was this the domicile of Anthony Basset, Esq., attorney- at-law ? To have resolved any or all of these doubts, by rising and taking a personal survey of the premises, would have been my first thought ; but, unluckily, I found one of my arms bandaged, and en- closed in a brace of wooden splints ; a very considerable general impression pervaded me of bruises and injuries all over my body ; and, worse still, a kind of megrim accompanied every attempt to lift my head from the pillow, that made me heartily glad to lie down again, and be at rest. That I had not fallen into unfriendly hands was about the extent to which my deductions led me, and with this consolatory fact, and a steady resolve to remain awake three days if necessary, so as to inter- rogate the first visitor who should approach me, I mustered all my patience, and waited quietly. What hour of the day it was when first I awoke to even thus much of consciousness I cannot say ; but I well remember watching what appeared to me twelve mortal hours in my anxious expectation ; at last a key turned in an outer lock, a door opened, and I heard a heavy foot enter. Tin's was shortly followed by another step, whose less imposing tread was, I suspected, a woman's. " Where, in the devil's name, is the candle ?*' said a gruff voice, that actually seemed to me not unknown. "I left it on the table when I went out. Oh ! my shin's broke— that infernal table !" oira MESS, •• Oh Lord ! oh, Lord !" screamed the female voice. " Ah .' you've caught it too," cried the other, in glee ; " did you think you saw a little blue flume before you, when your shin was Iced?" " You're a monster," said the lady, in a tone of passionate indignation. " Here it is — T have it," replied the other, not paying the slightest attention to the endearing epithet last bestowed; "andd me, if it's not burned down to the socket. Holloa there, Peter Dodd — you scoundrel, where are you ?" " Call him Saladin," said the lady, with a sneer, " and perhaps he'll answer." " Imp of darkness, where are you gone to? Peter — Dodd — Dodd — Peter ! Ah ! vou young blackguard, where were you all this • ■■:-" "Asleep, sir; sure you know well, sir, it's little rest I get, v said a thin, childish voice, in answer. " Wasn't it five o'clock this morning when I divilled the two kidneys ye had for supper for the four officers, an 1 had to ' borrey' the Kian pepper over the way ¥'. " I'll bore a gimlet hole through your pineal gland, and stuff it with brass-headed nails, if you reply to me. Anna Maria, that was a fine thought— reh ? — glorious, by Jove! There, put the candle there; hand your mistress a chair ; give me my robe cle cJtambre. Confound me, if it's not getting very like the kingdom of Prussia on the map, full of very straggling dependencies. Supper, Saladin." " The sorrow taste " " What, thou piece of human ebony — what do yen say ?" "Me hab no — a — ting in de larder," cried the child, in a broken voice. u Isn't there a back of a duck and two slices of cold bacon ?" asked the lady, in the tone of a cross-examining barrister. " I poisoned the bacon for the rats, miss ; and for the duck " " Let me strangle him with my own hands," shouted the man ; '• let me tear him up into merry thoughts. Look here, sirrah," said lie, in a voice like John Keinble, "there may be nothing which man eats within these walls; there may not be wherewithal to regale a sickly fly, no, Dot enough for one poor spider to lunch upon ; but if you ever dare to reply to me, save in Oriental phrase, I'll throw you in a sack, call my mutes, and hurl you into the Bosphorus." " Where, si; - ? ' " The Dodder, you son of a burnt father. My hookah." " My slippers," repeated the lady. " My lute and the sherbet," added th leman. By the s« ir in the chamber these arrangements, or something equiva- lent to them, seemed to hai i place, when again I heard — " Dance a lively measure, Saladin ; my soul is heavy." Here a most vile tinkling of a guitar was heard, to which, by the sounds of the feet, I could perceive Saladin was moving in a species of dance. M TuM BU&KE OF <: OURS." «J I "Lei tl to bed, and don't be making a fool of youn Bait! the lady, in a voice of bursting passion. " Thank heaven," said I, half aloud, "she isn't mad." " Tink, tink, a-tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink-a-dido," thrummed out her companion. " I say, Saladin, heat me a little porter, with an egg and some sugar." The door closed as the imp made his exit, and there was silence for some seconds, during which my uppermost thought was, what infernal mischance has thrown me into a lunatic asylum. At length the man spoke. " I say, Anna Maria, Cradock has this run of luck a long time." '•He plays better than you," responded the lady, sharply. " I deny it," rejoined he, angrily ; " 1 play whist better than any man that ever lived, except the Begurii of Soutancantantarabad, who' beat my father. They played for lacs of rupees on the points, and a terri- tory on the rub ; five to two, first game against the loser, in white elephants." 4i Mow you do talk," said Anna Maria; " do you forget that all thfs rubbish doesn't go down with me?" " Well, I mean old Hickory, that had the snuff-shop in Bath, used only to give me one point in the rub, and we played for sixpence — damme, I'll not forget it; he c!eaned me out in no" time. Tink, tink, a-tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink-a-dido. Here, Saladin, bear me the spicy cup, ambrosial boy !" "Ahem!" said the lady, in a tone that didn't sound exactly like concurrence. " Eat. a few dates, and then to repose," said the deep voice. " I wish I had them, av they wor eatable," said Saladin, as he turned away. " Wretch ! you have forgotten to salaam ; exit slowly. Tink, tink, a-tink-a-tink. Anna Maria, he's devilish good now tor black parts. J think I'll make Jones bring him out. Wouldn't it be original to make Othello talk broken English? Farewell de camp ! Eh! by Jove, tiiat's a fine thought. ' The spirit-stir a drum, de piercy pipe ;' by Jove, I like that notion." Here the gentleman rose in a glorious burst of enthusiasm, and began repeating snatches from Shakspeare, in the pleasant travesty he had hit upon. " Cradock revoked, and you never saw him," said the lady, drily, interrupting the monologue. " I did see it clearly enough ; but I had done so twice the same game," said he gaily ; " and if the grave were to give up its dead, I tQO should be a murderer. Fine thought that ! isn't it ?" " He won seventeen-and-sixpence from you," rejoined she, pettishly. " Two bad half-crowns ; dowlas, filthy dowlas," was the answer. " And the hopeful young gentleman in the next room, what profitable intentions, may I ask you, have you with respect to him ?" '• Burke ! Tom Burke ! Bless your heart, he's only <-cn r.nd heir to Burke of Mount Blazes, in the county Galway. His lather keepa 92 OUR MF.SS. three packs of harriers, one of fox and another of stag houmls — a kind of brindled devils, three feet eight in height: he won't take them under. His father and mine were schoolfellows at Dundiinderamud, in the Hamalaya, and he — that is, old Burke — saved my father's life in a tiger-hunt ; and am I to forget the heritage of gratitude my father left me r" " You ought not, perhaps, since it was the only one he bequeathed," quoth the lady. "What! Is the territory of Shamdoonah and Bunfunterabad no- thing ? Are the great suits of red emeralds and blue opal, that were once the crown-jewels of Saidh Sing Doolah, nothing? Is the scimitar of Hafiz, with verses of the Koran in letters of pure brilliants, nothing ?" " You'll drive me distracted with your insane folly," rejoined the lady, rising and pushing back her chair with violence. " To talk this way when you know you haven't got a five-pound note in the world." "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed out. the jolly voice of the other; "that's good, faith. If I only consented to dip my Irish property, I could raise fourteen hundred and seventy thousand pounds ; — so Mahony tells me. But I'll never give up the royalties — never. There you have my last word on the matter — rather than surrender my tin-mine, I'd consent to starve on twelve thousand a-year, and resign my claim to the title, which, I believe, the next session will give me; and when you are Lady Machinery — something or other — maybe they won't bite, eh ? Ramskins versus wrinkles." A violent bang of the door announced at this moment the exit of the lady in a rage, to which her companion paid no attention, as he continued to mumble to himself — " Surrender the royalties — never ! Oh, she's gone Well, she's not far wrong after all. I dare not draw a check on my own exchequer at this moment, for a larger sum than — let me see — twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-eight and tenpence : with twenty-nine shillings, the grand firm of Bubbleton & Co. must shut up and suspend their pay- ments." So saying, he walked from the room in stately fashion, and closed the door after him. My first, thought, as I listened to this speech, was one of gratefulness that I had fallen into the friendly hands of my old coach companion, whose kindness still lived fresh in my memory; my next was, what peculiar form of madness could account for the strange outpouring I hul just overheard, in which my own name was so absurdly intro- duced, coupled with family circumstances I knew never had occurred. Bleep was now out of the question with me; for whole hours long I could do nothing but resolve in my mind all the extraordinary odds and ends of my friend Bubbleton's conversation, which I remembered to have been so struck by at my first meeting with him. The miraculous adventures of his career, his hair-breadth 'scapes, his enormous wealth, the voluptuous ease of his daily life, and his habits of luxury and ex- penditure with which he then astounded me, had now received some solution — while, at the same time, there was something in his own TOM BOUKE Oi " OIKS." 93 common-sense observations to himself, that puzzled me much, and gave a great difficulty to all my calculations concerning him. To all these conflicting doubts and difficulties sleep at last succeeded: but better far for me it had not ; for with it came dreams such as sick men only experience ; — all the distorted images that - rose before my wandering faculties, mingling with the strange fragments of Bubbletou's conversation, made a phantasmagoria the most perplexing and incom- prehensible ; and which, even on waking, I could not banish — so completely had Saladin and his pas seill, the guitar, the hookah, and the suit of red emeralds, taken hold of my erring intellect. Candid, though not fair reader, have you ever been tipsy ? Have you ever gone so far over the boundary line that separates the land of mere sobriety from its neighbouring territory, the country of irresponsible impulses, that you actually doubted which was the way back, that you thought you saw as much good sense and good judgment on the one side of the frontier as the oilier, with only a strong balance of good fellowship to induce a preference? If you know this state, if you have taken the precise quantum of champagne, or moselle mousseux, that induces it, and yet goes no farther, then do you perfectly under- stand all the trials and difficulties of my waking moments, and you can appreciate the arduous task I undertook in my effort to separate the real from the imaginary, the true types from their counterfeits ; in a word, the wanderings of my own brain from those of Captain Bubbleton's. In this agreeable and profitable occupation was I engaged, when the same imposing tread and heavy footstep 1 had heard the previous evening, entered the adjoining room and approached my door. The lock turned, and the illustrious captain himself appeared, and here let me observe, that if grave censure be occasionally bestowed on per- sons who by the assumption of voice, look, or costume, seek to terrorize over infant minds, a no less heavy sentence should be bestowed on all who lord it over the frail faculties of sickness by any absurdity in their personal appearance, and that I may not seem captious let me describe my friend. The captain who was somewhere about the for- ties, was a full-faced, chubby, good-looking fellow, of some five feet ten or eleven inches in height ; his countenance had been intended by nature for the expressions of such emotions as arise from the enjoyment of turtle, milk-punch, truffled-turkeys, mulled port, mulligatawney, stilton, stout, and pickled oysters ; a rich mellow-looking pair of dark brown eyes, with large bushy eyebrows, meeting above the nose, which latter feature was a little "on the snub, and off the Roman;" his mouth was thick lipped, and had that peculiar mobility which seems inseparable, wherever eloquence or imagination predominate; in colour, his face was of that uniform hue painters denominate as "warm," in fact, a rich sunset Claude Lorrainish tint, that seemed a compound, the result of high-sea- soned meats, plethora, punch, and the tropics ; in figure, he was like a huge pudding-bag, supported on two short little dumpy pillars, that from a sense of the superincumbent weight had wisely spread themselves out below, giving to his lower man the appearance of a stunted letter A ; his 94 our Mess. nrms were most preposterously short, and for the convenience of locomo- tion he used them somewhat after the fashion of fins ; as to his costume on the morning in question, it was a Bingularly dirty and patched dressing- gown of antique silk, fastened about the waste by a girdle, from which depended a scimitar on one side, and a meershaum on the other ; a well- worn and not over clean-looking shawl was fastened i-n fashion of a turban round his head; a pair of yellow buskins with faded gold tassels decorated legs, which occasionally peeped from the folds of the rube dc chambre, without any other covering. Such was the outward man of him, who suddenly stopped short at the doorway, while he held the latch in his hand, and called out: — "Burke! Tom Burke, don't be violent; don't be outrageous, you see I'm armed ; I'd cut you down without mercy if you attempt to lift a linger ; promise me this — do you hear me ?" That any one even unarmed could have conceived fear from such a poor, weak object as I was, seemed bo utterly absurd, that I laughed outright ; an emotion on my part that seemingly imparted but little confi- dence to my friend the captain, who retreated still closer- to the door, and seemed ready for flight. The first use I could make of speech, how- ever, was, to assure him that I was not only perfectly calm and sensible, but deeply grateful for kindness for which I knew not how, nor to whom 1 became indebted. " Don't roll your eyes there ; don't look so d d treacherous," said he; "keep down your handy ; keep them under the bed-clothes. I'd put a bullet through your skull if you stirred." I again protested that any manifestation of quietness he asked for I would immediately comply with, and begged him to sit down beside me and tell me where I was, and how I had come hither. Having established an outwork of a table and two chairs between us, and cautiously having left the door a-jar, to secure his retreat, he drew the seimitar and placed it before him, his eyes being fixed on me the entire time. " Well," said he, as he assumed a seat, and leaned his arm on the table, "so you are quiet at last. Lord! what a frightful lunatic you were. Nobody would approach your bed but me. The stoutest keeper of Swift's hospital fled from the spot, while I said, leave him to me. The human eye is your true agent to humble the pride of maniacal fr< nzy." With these words he fixed on me a look such as the chief murderer in a melo-drama assumes, at the moment lie proceeds to immolate a whole fan lily. " You infernal young villain, how I subdued you — how you quailed ire me." There was something so ludicrous in the contrast of this bravery with his actual terror, that again I burst out a laughing, upon which he Dg up, and brandishing his sabre, vowed vengeance on me if I stirred. After tderable time spent thus, 1 at last succeeded in i i : ng hini with the fact, that, if I had ifll the will in the world to tear him in piece , my strength would not suffice to carry me to the door. ♦ yH C * J f f IOM 13URKE OF "OUBS." 95 .An assurance which, however sorrowfully made by me, I perceived to afford him the most unmixed satisfaction. " That's right, quite right," said he, " and mad should he be indeed who would measure strength with me. The red men of Tuscarora always called me the great buffalo. I used to carry a bark canoe with my squaw and nine little black devils under one arm, so as (o le:ive the other free for my tomahawk. ' lie, how, he,' that's the war ilere he stooped down to his knees, and then sprang up again, with a yell that actually made me start, and brought a new actor on the scene in the person of Anna Maria, whose name I had so frequently heard the night before. " What, is the matter?" said the lady, a short squab-like woman, of nearly the captain's age, but none of his personal attractions. " We can't have him screaming all day in that fashion." " It isn't him, it was I was performing the war dance. Come now let down your hair and be a squaw — do. What trouble is it ? and bring in Saladin; we'll get up a combat scene ; devilish fine thought that'!" The indignant look of the lady in reply to this modest proposal again overpowered me, and I sank back in my bed exhausted with laughter. An emotion which I was forced to subdue as well as I might on beholding the angry countenance with which the lady regarded me. "I say, Burke," cried the captain, "let me present you to my sister, Miss Anna Maria Bubbleton." A very dry recognition on Miss Anna Maria's part replied to the effort I made to salute her, and as she turned on her heel, she said to her brother, " Breakfast's ready," and left the room. Bubbleton jumped up at this, rubbed his mouth pleasantly with his hand, smacked his lips, and then dropping his voice to a whisper, muttered — " Excuse me, Tom, but if I have a weakness it is for yarmoulh bloaters, and anchovy toast, milk chocolate, marmalade, hot rolls, and reindeer tongue, with a very small glass of pure white brandy, as a qualifier." So saying, he whisked about and made his exit. While my host was thus occupied I was visited by the regimental surgeon, who informed me that my illness had now been of some weeks' duration: severe brain fever, with various attending evils, and a broken arm, being the happy results of my evening's adventure at the parliament- house ? " Bubbleton's an old friend of yours," continued the doctor ; and then, without giving me time to reply, added, "capital fellow, no better ; a little given to the miraculous — eh! but nothing worse." " Why he does indeed seem to have a strong vein for fiction," said I, half timidly. " Bless your heart, he never ceases ; his world is an ideal tiling, full of impossible people and events, where he has lived at least some centuries, enjoying the intimacies of princes, statesmen, poets, and he has, in his own estimation, unlimited wealth and unbounded 96 OUR MESS. resources, the want of which he is never convinced of till pressed for five shillings to buy his dinner." " And his sister," said I, " what of her ?" " Just as strange a character in the opposite direction. She is as matter-of-fact as he is imaginative. To all his flights she as resolutely enters a dissentient ; and he never inflates his balloon of miracles without her stepping forward to punch a hole in it. But here they come." " I say, Pepper, how goes your patient ? Spare no pains, old fellow — no expense ; only get him round. I've left a check for you for five hundred in the next room. This is no regimental case — come, come, it's my way, and I insist upon it." Pepper bowed with an air of the deepest gratitude, and actually looked so overpowered by the liberality, that I began to suspect there might be less truth in his account of Bubbleton than I thought a few minutes before. " All insanity has left him — that's pleasant. I say, Tom, you must have had glorious thoughts, eh ! When you were mad, did you ever think you were an anaconda bolting a goat, or the Eddystone light- house when the foundation began to shift ?" " No, never." " How odd ! I remember being once thrown on my head off a drag. I was breaking in a pair of young unicorns for the queen of " " No," said Anna Maria, in a voice of thunder, holding up her finger, at the same moment, in token of reproof. The captain became mute on the instant, and the very word lie was about to utter stuck in his throat, and he stood with his mouth open, like one in enchantment. " You said a little weak tea, I think," said Miss Bubbleton, turning towards the doctor. " Yes, and some dry toast, if he liked it : and, in a day or two, a half glass of wine and water." " Some of that tokay old Pepi Esterhazy sent us " '■ No," said the lady again, in the same tone of menace. " And, perhaps, after a week, the open air and a little exercise in a carriage." " The barouche and the four ponies," interrupted Bubbleton. ." No," repeated Miss Anna Maria, but in such a voice of imperious meaning, that the poor captain actually fell back, and only muttered to himself — " What was the use of wealth, if one couldn't contribute to the enjoyment of their friends?'' " There's the drum for parade," cried the doctor; "you'll be late, and so shall I." Tiny both bustled out of the room together, while Mi^s Anna Maria, taking her work out of a small bag she carried on her arm, drew a chair to the window, and sat down, having quietly intimated to me that, as conversation was deemed injurious to me, I must not speak one syllable. TOM BIRKE OF " OURS, 97 CHAPTER XIII. AN UNLOOKED-FOR VISITOR. All my endeavours to ascertain the steps by which I came to occupy my present abode were fruitless, inasmuch as Captain Bubhleton con- trived to surround his explanation with such a mist of doubtful, if not impossible circumstances, that I gave up the effort in despair, and was obliged to sit down satisfied with the naked fact, that it was by some soldiers of his company I was captured, and by them brought to the guard-house. Strangely enough, too, I found that in his self- mystification, the worthy captain had invested me with all the honours of a staunch loyalist who had earned his cracked skull in defence of the soldiery against the mob ; and this prevailing impression gave such a tone tu his narrative, that he not onlv set to work to trace back a n hole generation of Burkes famed for their attachment to the House of Hanover, but also took a peep into the probable future, where he saw me covered with rewards for my heroism and gallantry. Young as I was, I hesitated long how far I dare trust him with the real state of the case. I felt that in so doing I should either ex- pose him to the self-reproach of having harboured one he would deem a rebel — or, by withdrawing from me his protection, give him, perhaps, greater pain by compelling him to such an ungracious act. Yet, how could I receive attention and kindness under these false colours ? This was a puzzling and difficult thing to resolve ; and a hundred times a day I wished I had never been rescued by him, but taken my chance of the worst fortune had in store for me. While, therefore, my strength grew with every day, these thoughts harassed and depressed me. The continual conflict in my mind de- prived me of all ease ; and scarcely a morning broke, in which I had not decided on avowing my real position and my true sentiments ; and still, when the moment came, the flighty uncertainty of Bubbleton's manner — his caprice and indiscretion — all frightened me, and I was silent. I hoped, too, that some questioning on his part might give me a fitting opportunity for such a disclosure ; but here again I was deceived. The jolly captain was far too busy inventing his own history of me, to think of asking for mine ; and I found out from the surgeon of the regiment, that according to the statement made at the mess- table, I was an only son, possessed of immense estates — somewhat en- cumbered, to be sure, (among other debts, a large jointure to my mother) — that I had come up to town to consult the attorney-general about the succession to a title long in abeyance in my family, and was going down to the house in Lord Castlereagh's carriage, when, fired by MESS, HO. XVII. — VOL. II. H 98 OUR MESS. the ruffianism of the mob, I sprang out, and struck one of the ring- leaders, &e. &c. How this visionary history had its origin, or whether it had any, save in the wandering fancies of his brain, I knew not; but either by frequent repetition of it, or by the strong hold a favourite no- tion sometimes will take of a weak intellect, he so far believed it true, that he wrote more than one letter to Lord Castlereagh, to assure him that I was rapidly recovering, and would be delighted to receive him — which, whether from a knowledge of the captain's character, or his indilference as to my fate, the secretary certainly never took any notice of whatever. Bubbleton had too much experience of similar instances of neglect to be either afflicted or oii'ended at this silence ; on the contrary, he sati-tied his mind by an excuse of his own inventing, and went about saying — '"I think we'll have Castlereagh down to-day to see Burke," until it became a cant on parade, and a jest at mess. Meanwhile, his active mind was not lying dormant. Indignant that no inquiries had been made after me, and astonished that no aide-de- camp — not even a liveried menial of the viceroy's household — had come down to receive the daily bulletin of my health ; and somewhat piqued, perhaps, that his own important services regarding me remained unac- knowledged, he set about springing a mine for himself which very nearly became my ruin. After about ten days spent by me in this state of painful vacillation, my mind vibrating between two opposite courses, and seeing arguments for either, both in the matter-of-fact shortness of Miss Bubbleton's not , -courteous manner, and the splendidly-liberal and vast conceptions of her brother, I went to my bed one night, resolved that on the very next morning I would hesitate no longer ; and as my strength would now permit of my being able to walk unassisted, I would explain freely to Bubbleton every circumstance of my life, and take my leave of him, to wander, I knew not where. This decision at length being come to, I shpt more soundly than I had done for many nights, nor awoke until the loud step and the louder voice of the captain aroused me from my slumbers. "Eh, Tom — a good night, my lad? How soundly you sleep! Just like the Lachigong Indians: they go to bed after the hunting season, and never wake till the bears come in next fall. I had the knack niy- e, but then I always took six or seven dozen of strong Burton ale first — and that, they said, wasn't quite fair; but for a white man, I'd back myself for a thousand to-morrow. But what's this I have to tell you? Something or other was in my head for you. Oh, I have it! I say, Tom, old fellow, I think I have touched them up to some purpose. They didn't expect it — no, hang it ! they little knew what was in store for them. They weren't quite prepared for it. By Jove, that they weren't !" " Who are they ?" said I, sitting up in my bed, and somewhat curious to hear something of these astonished individuals. " TOM BURKi: OF " OVRS." 99 "The government, my lad! — the castle — Hie private sec. — tne major — the treasury — the board of green cloth — the— what d'ye call them? — the privy council." " Why, what has happened them?" "I'll show you -what's happened. Lie down again and compose yourself. He won't be here before twelve o'clock ; though, by-the-bv, I promised on my honour not to say a word about his coming. But it's over now.'' " Who is it ?" said I, eagerly. "Oh, I can't teil now. You'll see him very soon, and right glad he'll be to see you — so he says. But here they are — here's the whole affair." So saying, he covered the bed with a mass of newspapers, and blotted, ill-written manuscripts, among which he commenced a vigorous Bearch at once. " Here it is. I've found it out. Listen to this : — ' The Press, Friday, August 10. — The magnificent ourang-outang that Captain Bubbleton is about to present to the lady lieutenant ' No ; that isn't'it. It must be in Faulkner. Ay, bore we have it : — ' In Captain Bubbleton's forthcoming volume, with which we have been favoured with a private perusal, a very singular account is given of the gigantic mouse found in Candia, which grows to the size of a common mastiff ' No ; that's not it. You've heard of that, Tom, though; haven't you?" " Never," said I, trying to repress a smile. " I'm amazed at that. Never heard of my curious speculations about the Candian mouse ! The fellow has a voice like a human being — you'd hear him crying in the woods, and you'd swear it was a child. I've a notion that the Greeks took their word ' mousikos' from this fellow ; but that's not what I'm looking for. No, but here it is. This is squib No. 1 : — ' Tuesday morning. — We are at length enabled to state that the young gentleman who took such a prominent part in defending the military against the savage and murderous attack of the mob in the late riot in College-green, is now out of danger; being removed to Captain Bubbleton's quarters, in George's-street barracks, he was immediately trepanned ' Eh ? trepanned ! No; you weren't tre- panned; but Pepper said you might have been though) and he'd just as soon do it, as not ; — so I put in trepanned ' The pia-mater way fortunately not cut through.' That you don't understand ; but no matter — hem, hem ' Congestion of ' hem, hem ' In our next, we hope to give a still more favourable report.' Then here's the next :— ' To the aide-de-camp sent to inquire after the " hero of College Green," the answer this morning was — "Better — able to sit up." ' Well, here we go. No. 3: — 'His excellency mentioned this morning at. the privy council the satisfaction he felt at being able to announce that Mr. * * * * (from motives of delicacy we omit the name) is now permitted to take some barley-gruel, with a spoonful of c!d Madeira. The Bishop of Ferns and Sir Boyle Roach both left their cards yesterday at the barracks.' I waited a day or two after this ; "mt — would you believe it ? — no notice was taken — not even the oppo- sition papers said a word, except some insolent rascal in The Press 100 OUR MESS. asks — ' Can you ted your readers are we to have any thing more from Captain Bubbleton ?' So then I resolved to come out in force, and here you see the result — ' Friday, 20th — It is now our gratifying task to announce the complete restoration of the young gentleman whose case has, for some weeks past, been the engrossing topic of conversation of all ranks and classes, from the table of the viceroy to the humble denizen of Mud Island. Mr. Burke is only son and heir to the late Matthew Burke, of Cremore, county of Galway. His family have been long distinguished for their steady uncompromising loyalty ; nor is the hereditary glory of their house likely to suiter in the person of the illustrious youth, who we learn is now to be raised to the baronetcy, under the title of Sir Thomas Bubbleton Burke, the second name assumed to commemorate the services of Captain Bubbleton, whose ' Of course I dilated a little here to round the paragraph. Well, this did it. Here was the shell that exploded the magazine; for early this morning I received a polite note from the Castle ; I won't tell you the writer though — I like a good bit of surprise; and, egad, now I think on't, I won't say any thing more about the letter either, only that we're in luck, my lad, as you'll soon acknowledge. What's the hour now ? Ah ! a quarter to twelve ; but wait, I think I hear him in the next room ; jump up, and dress as fast as you can, while I do the honours." With this the captain bustled out of the room, and although he banged the door after him, I could hear his voice in the act of welcoming some new arrival. In spite of the sea of nonsense and absurdity through which I had waded in the last half hour, the communication he had made me excited my curiosity to the utmost, and in some respect rendered me uneasy. It was no part whatever of my object to atford any clue to Basset by which he might trace me, and although much of the fear I had formerly • ntertained of that dreaded personage had evaporated with increased knowledge of the world, yet old instincts preserved their influence over me, and I felt as though Tony Basset would be a name of terror to me i r my life long. It was quite clear, however, that the application from the Castle to which he alluded, could have no reference to the honest attorney ; and with this comforting reflection, which I confess came somewhat late, I finished my dressing, and prepared to leave my room. • ; Oh ! here he comes," cried Bubbleton, as he flung open my door, and announced my approach. " Come along, Tom, and let us see if your face will let you be recognised." I scarcely had crossed the threshold when I started back with affright, and, had it not been for the wall against which I leaned, must have fallen. The stranger whose a isit was to afford ine so much of pleasure was no other than Major Barton : there he stood, his arm leaning on the chimney-piece, the same cool malicious smile playing about the angles of his mouth, which I noticed the first day I Baw him in the glen. His sharp eyes shot on me one quick searching glance, and then turned to the door, from which again they were directed to me, as if some passing thought had moved them. TOM BURKE OF "OURS." 101 Bubbleton was the first to^speak, for not noticing either the agitation I was under, or the stern expression of Barton's features, he ran on — " Eh, major ! that's your friend— isn't it ? changed a bit I suppose, a little blanched, but in a good cause you know, that's the thing. Come, Tom, you don't forget your old friend", Major what's the name?" '• Barton," repeated the other drily. " Yes, Major Barton ; he's come from his excellency. I knew that last paragraph would do it — eh, major?" " You were quite right, sir," said Barton slowly and distinctly, " that paragraph did do it ; and very fortunate you may esteem yourself, if it will not do you also." " Eh ! what ! how me ? what d'you mean ?" " Mow long, may I beg to ask," continued Barton in the same quiet tone of voice, " have you known this young gentleman ?" "Burke! Tom Burke! bless your heart, since the height of that fender. His father and mine were sehoul-fellows. I'm not sure he wasn't my godfather, or at least one of them — I had four." Here the captain began counting on his fingers. "There was tiie Moulah, one; the Cham, two " " I beg your pardon for the interruption," said Barton, witli affected politeness: " how long has he occupied these quarters ? that fact. may. possibly not be too antiquated for your memory." "How long ?"said Bubbleton reflecting]}'. " Let me see — here we are, in August " " Three weeks, on Tuesday last," said I, interfering to prevent any further drain on so lavish an imagination. " Then you came here on the day of the riots ?" said Barton. " On that evening," was my reply. " On that evening — just so : before or after, may I ask ?" " I shall answer no farther questions," said I resolutely : " it' you have any charge against me, it is for you to prove it." " Charge against you!" said Bubbleton laughing. " Bless your heart, boy, don't mistake him : they've sent him down to compliment you. Lord Castlereagh mentions in his note where the devil did I throv that note ?" " It's of no consequence, captain," said Barton drily: " his lordship , usually entrusts the management of these matters to me. May I learn is this young gentleman known in your regiment ? has he been at your mess ?" " Tom Burke known among us ! Why, man, he's called nothing bi\t ' Burke of ours' — he's one of ourselves — not gazetted you know, but alt the same in fact. We couldn't get on without him ; he's like the mess- plate, or the orderly-book, or the regimental snuff-box." " I'm sincerely sorry, sir," rejoined Barton slowly, " to rob you and the gallant forty-fifth of one upon whom you place such just value. But 'Burke of ours' must consent to be Burke of mine at present." " To be sure, my dear major — of course, any thing convivial — nothing like good fellowship ; we'll lend him to you for to-day — one day, mark me, we can't spare him longer — and now I think of it, don't press him with his wine, he's been poorly of late." lwi cm mess. k - Have no fears on that score/' said Barton, laughing Outright: . habits of life, in his circumstances, are rigidly temperate." Then turning to me, he continued in an altered voice — " 1 need scarcely explain in //A/, sir. the reason of my visit: when last we parted I did not anticipate that our next meeting would have been in a royal barrack; but you may thank your friend here for my knowledge of your abode " Bubbleton attempted to interpose here a panegyric on himself, but •ill Wcllt on — '"lb-re is an order of the privy council for your apprehension, and here " •• Apprehension ! '* echoed the captain, in a voice of wonderment and terror. " Here, sir, is your committal to Newgate. I suppose you'll not give me the trouble of using force ; I have a carriage in waiting below, and request that we may lose no more time." *• I'm ready, sir," said I, as stoutly as I was able. '■ To Newgate '." repeated Bubbleton, as overcome with fright he sank '. in a chair, and crossed his arms on his breast. " Poor fellow! poor iw! perhaps they'll bring it in manslaughter — eh? or was it a bank -cry :" Not even the misery before me could prevent my smiling at the worthy captain's rapidly-conceived narrative of me. I was in no merry mood, however, and turning to him grasped his hand. "If may happen," said I, "that we never meet again. I know riot, indeed I hardly care, what is before me; but with all my heart I thank jou for your kindness — farewell." " Farewell," said he, half mechanically, as he grasped my hand in both of his, and the large tears rolled down his cheeks. " Poor fellow ! all my fault — see it no, . ' I hurried after Barton down stairs, a nervous choking in my throat nearly suffocating me. Just as I reached the door the carriage chew- up, and a policeman let down the steps. Already my foot was on them, when Bubbleton was beside me — • " I'll go with him, major, — you'll permit me, won't you?" " Not at present, captain," said Barton significantly; " it may happen we shall want you one of these days — good-by." He pushed me forward as he spoke, and entered the carriage after me. I felt the pressure of poor Bubble-ion's hand as he pressed mine for the last time, and discovered he had slipped something into my palm at parting. I opened and found two guineas in gold, which the kind-hearted fellow had given me — perhaps they were his only ones in the world. TOAi BURKE OF " OURS." 103 CHAPTER XIV. THE GAOL. From the moment the carriage-door closed upon us, Barton never # addressed one word to ine, but, leaning back, seemed only anxious to escape being recognised by the people, whose attention was drawn to the vehicle by seeing two mounted policemen ride at either side of it. We drove along the quays, and, crossing an old dilapidated bridge, traversed several obscure and mean-looking streets, through which numbers of persons were hurrying in the same direction we were; going. At length we arrived at a large open space, thronged with people, whose dress and appearance bespoke them from the country. They were all conversing in a low murmuring tone, and looking up from time to time towards a massive building of dark granite, which I had only to glance at to guess was Newgate. Our pace slackened to a walk as we entered the crowd ; and while we moved slowly along, I was struck by the eager and excited faces I saw on every side. It eould be no common occasion which impressed that vast multitude with the one character of painful anxiety I beheld. As they stood gazing with upturned faces at the frowning portals of the gaol, the deep solemn tolling of a bell rung out at the moment ; and as its sad notes vibrated through the air, it seemed to strike with a mournful power on every heart in the crowd. In an instant, too, the windows of all the houses were thronged with eager faces ; even the parapets were crowded, and while every sound was hushed, each eye was turned in one direc- tion. I followed with my own whither the others were bent, and belield above my head the dark frame- work of the "drop," covered with black cloth, above which a piece of rope swung, swayed back- wards and forwards with the wind. The narrow door behind was closed, but it was clear that each second that stole by, was bringing some wretched criminal closer to his awful doom. As we neared the entrance, the massive doors were opened on a signal from a policeman on the box of the carriage, and we drove inside the gloomy vestibule. It was only then, as the heavy door banged behind me, that my heart sank. Up to that moment a mingled sense of wrong, and a feeling of desperate courage had nerved me; but suddenly a cold chill ran through my veins, my knees smote each other, and fear, such as till then I never knew, crept over me. The carriage- door was now opened, the steps lowered, and Barton descending first, addressed a few words to a person near him, whom he called Mr. Gregg. It was one of those moments in life in which every passing look, every chance word, every stir, every gesture, are treasured up, and 104 OUR MES3. remembered ever after : and I recollect now, how, as I stepped from the carriage, a feeling of shame passed across me lest the by-standers should mark my fear, and what a relief I experienced on finding that my presence was unnoticed ; and then the instant after that very same neglect, that cold, cold indifference to me, smote as heavily on my spirits, and I looked on myself as one whose fate had no interest for any — in whose fortune none sympathized. M Drive on," cried a rough voice to the coachman, and the carriage moved through the narrow passage, in which some dozen of persons were now standing. The next moment a murmur of "they are coming," Mas heard, and the solemn tones of a man's voice chanting the last t.rtiees of the Romish church reached us, witli the measured foot- fall of persons crossing the flagged court-yard. In the backward Movement now made by those around me I was brought close to a small arched doorway, within which a flight of stone steps ascended in a spiral direction, and towards this point I remarked that the per- s< tjs who approached were tending. My eyes scarcely glanced on those m ho came first, but they rested witli a fearful interest on the bare- headed priest, who, in all the trappings of his office, walked, book in hand, repeating with mournful impressiveness the litany for the dead. As he came nearer I could see that his eyes were dimmed with tears, and his pale lips quivered witli emotion, while his very cheek trembled with a convulsive agony. Not so he who followed. He was a young man, scarce four and twenty, dressed in loose white trowsers and shirt, but without coat, vest, or cravat ; his head bare, and displaying a broad forehead, across which some straggling hairs of light brown were blown by the wind. His eye was bright and flashing, and in the centre of his pale cheek a small crimson spot glowed with a hectic colouring. His step was firm, and as he planted it upon the ground, a kind of elasti- city seemed to mark his foot-fall. He endeavoured to repeat after the priest the words as they fell from him : but as he looked wildly around, it was clear his mind was straying from the subject which his lips ex- pressed, and that thoughts far different were passing within him. Sud- denly his eyes fell upon the major, who stood close to where I was. The man started back, and for a second even that small spot of crimson left his cheek, which became nearly livid in its palor. A ghastly smile, that showed his white teeth from side to side, crossed his features, and witli a voice of terrible earnestness, he said — "'Tis easy for you to look calm, sir, at your mornin's work, and I hope you're plazed at it." Then frowning fearfully as his face grew purple, he added, " But by the eternal you'd not look that way av we two stood by ourselves on the side of Slieb-mish, and nothing but our own four arms between us." The horrible expression of vengeance that lit up his savage face at these words, smned to awe even the callous and stern nature of Barton himself. All his (Hurts to seem calm and at ease were for the moment unavailing, and he shrunk from the proud and Hashing eye of the felon, as though he were the guilty one in the presence of his accuser. Another stroke of the heavy bell rung out ; the prisoner started, and, TOM nUKKK OF " OURS." 105 turning round his head, seemed to peer anxiously through the crowd behind him, when his eyes fell upon the figure of a man apparently a year or two younger than himself, and whose features, even in their livid colouring, bore a striking resemblance to his own. "Come, Fatsy," cried he, " come along with us." Then turning to the gaoler, while his face assumed a smile, and his voice a tone of winning softness, he added — '-It is my brother, sir, lie is com.e up nigh eighty miles to see me, and I hope you'll let lain come upon the drop." There was something in the quiet earnestness of his manner in such a moment, that thrilled upon the heart more painfully than even the violent outbreak of his passion ; and when I saw the two brothers hand in hand, march step by step along, and then disappear in the winding of the dark stair, a sick, cold feeling came over me, and even the loud shout that rent the air from the assembled thousands without, scarce roused me from my stupor. " Come, sir," cried a man, who in the dress of an official had been for some minutes carefully reading over the document of my committal — " after me, if you please." I followed him across the court-yard in the direction of a small building which stood isolated and apart from the re. c t, when suddenly he stopped, and carefully examining the paper in his hand, he said — " Wait a moment, I'll join you presently." With these words he hurried back towards the gate, where; Barton still stood with two or three others. What passed between them I could not hear, but I could distinctly mark that Barton's maimer was more abrupt and imperious than ever ; and that while the gaoler — for such he was — expressed his scruples of one kind or another, the major would not hear him with patience, but turning his back upon him, called out loud enough to be heard even where I stood — " I tell you, I don't care — regular or irregular — if you refuse to take him in charge, on your own head be it. We have come to a pretty pass, Pollock," said he, turning to a person beside him, '• when there is more sympathy for a rebel in his majesty's gaol, than respect for a government officer." " I'll do it, sir — I'll do it," cried the gaoler ; saying which he mo- tioned me to follow, while he muttered between his teeth — " there must come an end to this, one day or other." With that he unlocked a strongly barred gate, and led me along a narrow passage, at the extremity of which he opened a door into a small and rather comfortably furnished room. " Here, sir," said he, " you'll be better than where I have my orders to put you, and, in any case, I trust that our acquaintance will be but a short one." These were the first words of kindness I had heard for some time past. I turned to thank the speaker, but already the door had closed, and he was gone. The quickly succeeding incidents of my life — the dark destiny that seemed to track me — had given a reflective character to my mind while 106 OUR RTESS. I was yet a boy. The troubles and cares of life, tnat in manhood e only to mould and fashion character, to call forth efforts of endurance, of courage, or ability, come upon us in early years with far different effect and far different teaching. Every lesson of deceit and duplicity is a direct, shock to some preconceived notion of faith and honour ; every punishment, whose severity in after years we had for- ten in its justice, has, to the eyes of youth, a character of vindictive cruelty. Looking only to effects, and never to causes, our views of life are one-sided and imperfect: the better parts of our nature will as often mislead us by false sympathy, as will the worse ones by their per- nicious tendency. From the hour I quitted my father's house to the present, I had seen nothing but what to me appeared the sufferings of a poor, defenceless people, at. the hands of wanton tyranny and outrage. I had seen the peasant's cabin burned, because it had been a shelter to an outcast. I had heard the loud and drunken denunciations of a ruffian soldiery against those who professed no other object, who acknowledged no ether wish than liberty and equality ; and in my heart I vowed a rooted hate to the enemies of my country — a vow that lost nothing of its bitterness, because it was made within the walls of a prison. In reflections like these my evening passed on, and with it the greater part of the night also. My mind was too much excited to permit me to sleep, and I longed for day-break with that craving impatience which sick men feel, who count the long hours of darkness, and think the morning must bring relief. It came at last, and the heavy, clanking sounds of massive doors opening and shutting — the mournful echoes that told of captivity and durance — sighed along the corridors, and then all was still. There is a time in reverie when silence seems not to encourage thought, but rather like some lowering cloud to hang over and spread a gloomy insensibility around us. Long watching and much thinking had brought me now to this, and I sat looking upon the faint streak of sunlight that streamed through the barred window, and speculating within myself when it would fall upon the hearth. Suddenly I heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor, my door was opened, and the gaoler entered, followed by a man carrying my breakfast. " Come, sir," said the former, " I hope you have got an appetite for our prison fare. Lose no time, for there is a carriage in waiting to bring you to the Castle, and the major himself is without." " I am ready this moment," said I, starting up, and taking my hat, and notwithstanding every entreaty to eat, made with kindness and good-nature, I refused every thing, and followed him out into the court-yard, where Barton was pacing Up and down, impatiently await- ing our coining. TOM BURKJB OF "OURS." 107 CHAPTER XV. THE CASTLE. Scarcely had the carriage driven from the gloomy portals of the gaol, and entered one of the long, straggling streets that led towards the river, when I noticed a singular-looking figure who ran alongside, and kept up with us as we went. A true type of the raggedness of old Dublin, his clothes fluttered behind him like ribbons ; even from his hat, his long red hair straggled and streamed, while his nether garments displayed a patchwork no tartan could vie with ; his legs were bare, save where a single top-boot defended one of them, the other was naked to the foot, clad in an old morocco slipper, which he kicked up and caught again as he went with surprising dexterity, accompanying the feat with a wild yell which might have shamed a war-whoop ; he carried a bundle of printed papers over one arm, and flourished one of them in his right hand, vociferating something all the while with uncommon energy. Scarcely had the carriage drawn up at the door of an old-fashioned brick building when he was beside it. " How are ye, major? How is every bit of you, sir? Are ye taking them this mornin' ? — 'tis yourself knows how ! Buy a ha'pbrtli, sir." " What have you got to-day, Toby ?" said the major, with a greater degree of complacency in his manner than I had ever noticed before. " An illigant new song about Buck Whaley ; or maybe you'd like Beresford's jig, or the humours of Malbro' Green." " Why, man, they're old these three weeks." " Thrue for ye, major : begorra, there's no chating you at all, at all. Well, maybe you'll have this — Here's the bloody and cruel outrage com-mitted by the yeomen on the body of a daceht and respectable young man, by the name of Darby M'Keown, with the full and true account of how he was inhumanly stabbed and murdered on the 8th day of July " " Ay, give me that : 1 hope they've done for that scoundrel ; I have been on his track three years." The fellow drew near, and, as he handed the paper to the major, contrived to approach close to where I stood. " Buy one, master," said he, and as he spoke he turned completely round, so as only to be observed by myself, and as suddenly the whole expression of his vacant features changed like magic, and I saw before me the well-known face of Darby himself. " Did you get an answer to that for me, Toby ?" said the major. "Yes, sir; here it is," and with that he pulled off his tattered hat, and withdrew a letter which lay concealed within the lining. "'Tis sixpence you ought to be afther givin' me this mornin', major," conti- nued he, in an insinuating tone of voice ; '• the devil a less than twenty- 108 OUR ME6S. mile it is out of this, not to spake of the danger I run, and the boys out on every side o' me." •• And what's the news up the country, Toby?" asked the major, as he broke the seal of the letter. ■• 'lis talking of a risin' they do be still, sir av the praties was in. glory be to God, they say it 'ill be a great sayson." •• For which, Toby — the cups o/ the croppies?"" • Yes, sir," replied Toby, with a most provoking look of idiotey. '• And you won't buy Darby, sir ?" rejoined he, nourishing the printed placard. "No matter; here's the whole, full, thrue, and particular account," and so be turned the angle of the building, and I could hoar In-; voice mingling with the street noises as he wended his way down Dame-street. The major looked after him, and smiled, and brief as - that smile, I saw in it how thoroughly he was/duped. • Come, sir, follow me, if you please," said he, addressing me. I mounted a flight of old and neglected stairs, and entered an ante- room, where, having waited for a few seconds, the major whispered an r to the porter, and passed on to the inner room, leaving me behind. As Major Barton passed out by one door, the porter turned the key in the other, and, placing it in his pocket, drew his chair to the window and resumed the newspaper he was reading when we entered. How I waited I cannot say. My thoughts, though sad ones, chased each other rapidly, and I felt not the time as it passed. Suddenly the door opened, and I heard my name called. I drew a deep breath, like one who felt his fate was in the balance, and entered. The room, which was plainly furnished, seemed to serve as an office. The green-covered table that stood in the middle was littered with letters and papers, among which a large heavy-browed, dark-featured man was searching busily as I came in. Behind, and partly beside him, stood Barton, in an attitude of respectful attention, while, with his hand to the fire, was a third person, whose age might have been from thirty-five t'. forty. I lis dress was'in the perfection of the mode, his top-boots reaching down to the middle of Ins leg — his blue coat, of the ligh I - of sky blue, was lined with white silk, and two watch chains hung down beneath his buff waistcoat, in the acme of the then fashion, features v. ere frank and handsome, and, saving a dash of puppyism that ■ a character of weakness to the expression, I should deem him a ly, fine-looking fellow. ■• S.) this is your ' Robespierre!' major — is it?'' cried he, bursting into a laugh, as I appeared. Barton approached nearer to him, and muttered something in a low, mumbling tone, to which the other seemed to pay little, if v.ny, •ntiotu " You are here, sir," said the dark-featured man at the table, holding in his band a paper as he spoke — "you are here, under a warrant of the privy council, charging you with holding intercourse with thai rebel- lious and ill-fated, faction, who seek to disturb the peace and welfare of country — disseminating dangerous and wicked doctrines, ::nd bi in alliance with France — with France what's that word, Baj to " TOiM BU&KE Of "OIRS." 109 "In two words, young gentleman," said tlie young man at the fire, "you are charged with keeping very had company — learning exceedingly unprofitable notions, and incurring very considerable present risk. Now, I am not disposed to think that, at your age, and with your respectable connections, either the cause or its associates, can have taken a very strong hold of your mind. I am sure that you must have received your im- pressions, such as they are, from artful and designing persons, who had only their own ends in view when involving you in their plots. If I am justified in this opinion, and if you will pledge me your honour " " I say, Cooke, you can't do this. The warrant sets forth " " Well, well, we'll admit him to bail." " It is not bailable, right honourable," said Barton, addressing the large man at the table. "Phelan," said the younger man, turning away in pique, " we really have mattejs of more importance than this boy's case to look after.'' " Boy as he is, sir," said Barton, obsequiously, " he was in the full confidence of that notorious French captain for whose capture you offered a reward of one thousand pounds." " You like to run your fox to earth, Barton," replied the under- secretary calmly, for it was he who spoke. " An alliance with France," continued the dark man, reading from the paper, over which he continued to pore ever since, " for the propaga- tion — ay, that's it — the propagation of democratic " " Come, come, Browne, never mind the warrant ; if he can find bail — say five hundred pounds — for his future appearance, we shall be satisfied." Browne, who never took his eyes from the paper, and seemed totally insensible to every thing but the current of his own thoughts, now looked up, and, fixing his dark and beetling look upon me, uttered in a deep, low tone — " You see, sir, the imminent danger of your present position, and at the same time the merciful leniency which has always characterized his majesty's government — ahem ! If, therefore, you will plead guilty to any transportable felony, the grand jury will find true bills " " You mistake, Browne," said Cooke, endeavouring with his hand- kerchief to repress a burst of laughter, " we are going to take his bail." "Bail!" said the other, in a voice, and with a look of amazement, absolutely comic. Up to this moment I had not broken silence, but I was unable to remain longer so. " I am quite ready, sir," said I, resolutely, " to stand my trial for any thing laid to my charge.. I am neither ashamed of the opinions I profess, nor afraid of the dangers they involve." " You hear him, sir, you hear him," said Barton, triumphantly, turning toward the secretary, who bit his lip in disappointment, and frowned on me with a mingled expression of anger and warning. — " Let him only proceed, and you'll be quite satisfied, on his own showing, that he cannot be admitted to bail." 110 OUR MESS. " Bail," echoed the right honourable, whose faculties seemed to have stuck fast in the mud of thought, and \vere totally unable to extricate themselves. At the same moment, a gentle tap was heard at the door, and the porter entered with a card, which he delivered to the secretary. " Let him wait," was the brief reply, as he threw his eyes over it. iptain Bubbleton," muttered he, between his teeth. "Don't know hi in." I started at the name, and felt my cheek flush ; he saw it at once. •• You know this gentleman, then ?" said he mildly. " Yes ; to his humanity I am indebted for my life/' '• I think I shall be able to show, sir," said Barton, interposing, " that through this Burke's instrumentality a very deep scheme of dis- ction is at this moment in operation among the troops in garrison. It was in the barrack at George's-street where I apprehended him." " You may withdraw, sir," said the secretary, turning towards me. " Let Captain Bubbleton come in." As I left the room, the burly captain entered ; but so flurried and excited was he, that he never perceived me, as we passed each other. I had not been many minutes in the outer room, when a loud laugh attracted me, in which I could distinctly recognise the merry ca- dence of my friend Bubbleton, and shortly after the door was opened, and I was desired to enter. " You distinctly understand, then, Captain Bubbleton," said Mr. Cooke, ' ; that in accepting the bail in this case, I am assuming a responsibility which may involve me in trouble?" " I have no doubt of it," muttered Barton, between his teeth. " We shall require two sureties of five hundred pounds each." " Take the whole myself, by Jove," broke in Bubbleton, with a flourish of his hand. — "In for a penny — eh, Tom ?" " You can't do that, sir," interposed Barton. The secretary nodded an assent, and for a moment or two, Bubble- ton looked nonplussed. " You'll of course have little difficulty as to a co-surety," continued Barton, with a grin. "Burke ' of ours' is sufficiently popular in the forty-fifth to make it an easy matter." "True," cried Bubbleton, "quite true; but in a thing of this kind, every fellow will be so deuced anxious to come forward — a kind of military feeling you know." "I understand it perfectly," said Cooke, Avith a polite bow; "al- though a civilian, I think I can estimate the 'esprit du corps' you speak of." " Nothing like it, nothing like it, by Jove. I'll just tell you a story — a. little anecdote in point. When we were in the Neelgharries, there was a tiger devilish fond of one of ours — someway or other, Forbes, that was his name. " " The tiger's ?" " No ! the captain's. Forbes had a devilish insinuating way with TOM BTTItKE OF " OUB .*' Ill lilm — women always liked him — and this tiger used to come in after mess and walk round to where he was sitting, and Forbes used to give him his dinner, just as you might a dog " The Castle clock struck three just at this moment; the secretary started up "My dear captain," cried he, putting his hand on Bubbleton's arm, " I never was so sorry in my life ; but I must hurry away to the privy council. 1 shall be here, however, at four ; and if you will meet me at that time with the other security, we can arrange this little matter at once." So saying, he seized his hat, bowed politely round the room, and left us. " Come along, Tom," cried Bubbleton, taking me by the arm ; "devilish good fellow, that; knew I'd tickle him with t lie tiger ; nothing to what 1 could have told him, however, if he had waited." " I beg your pardon, sir," said Barton, interposing between us and the door, "Mr. Burke is in custody until the formality at least of a bail be gone through." " So he is," said Bubbleton, " I forgot all about it. So good-by, Tom, for half an hour ; I'll not be longer, depend on it." With this he shook, me warmly by the hand, bustled out of the room, and hurried down stairs, humming a tune as he went, apparently in capital spirits, while I knew from his manner that the bail he was in search of, had about as much existence as the tiger in the Neelghanies. " You can wait in this room, sir," said Barton, opening the door of a small apartment which had no other exit save through this office. I sat down in silence and in sorrow of heart, to speculate on, as well as I was able, the consequences of my misfortune. I knew enough of Bubbleton to be certain that all chance of assistance in that quarter was out of the question — the only source he could draw upon being his invention — the only wealth he possessed, the riches of his imagina- tion — which had, however, this advantage over any other species of property I ever heard of — the more he squandered it, the more affluent did he become. Time wore on ; the clock struck four ; and yet no appearance of Bubbleton. Another hour rolled by — no one came near me, and at length, from the perfect stillness without, I believed they had forgotten me. 112 ora mkss. CHAPTER XVI. THE BAIL. Six o'clock, seven, and even eight struck, and yet no one came. The monotonous tread of the sentry on guard at the Castle-gate, and the isional challenge to Mime passing stranger, were the only sounds I heard above the distant hum of" the city, which grew fainter gradually as evening fell. At last I heard the sound of a key moving in a lock, the bang of a door, and then came the noise of many voices, as the footsteps mounted the stairs, amid which Bubbleton's was pre-eminently loud. The p >rty entered the room next to where I sat, and from the tones, I cvtld collect that Major Barton and Mr. Cooke were of the number. Another there was, too, whose voice, though not absolutely new or strange to my cars, I could not possibly charge my memory where I had heard it before. "While I was thus musing, the door opened noiselessly, and Bub- bleton entering without a word, closed it behind him, and approached me on tip-toe. " All right, my boy ; they're doing the needful outside ; ready in ten minutes; never was such a piece of fortune; found out a glorious fellow ; heard of him from Hicks, the money-lender; he'll go security to anv amount; knows vour family well; knew your father, grand- father I believe ; delighted to meet you; says he'd rather see you than fifty pounds!" "Who is he, for heaven's sake?" said I impatiently; for it was a new thing to me to receive any thing like kindness on the score of my father's memory. "Eh! who is he? He's a kind of a bill-broking, mortgaging, bail- giving, devilish good sort of fellow. I've a notion he'd do a bit of something at three months." ' ; But his name ; what's he called?" " His name is let, me see ; his name is but who cares for his name ; he can write it I suppose, and on a stamp, my boy — that's the mark. Bless your heart, I only spoil a stamp when I put my auto- graph across it — it would be worth prime cost till then What a glo- rious thing is youth — unfledged, unblemished youth — to possess a name new to the .lews — a reputation against which no one has 'protested.' Tom Burke, my boy, I envy you. Now, when I write George Frede- rick Augustus Bubbleton on any bill, warrant, or quittance, straightway there's a grin around the circle — a kind of a d d impertinent sort of a half-civil smile, as though to say ' nulla bona,' payable nowhere ; but hold! that was a tap at the door — oh, they want us." TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 113 So saying, the captain opened the door and introduced me. " I say, Tom," cried he, " come here, and thank our kind friend, Mr. Mr " " Mr. Basset," said I, starting back, as my eyes beheld the pale, sarcastic features of the worthy attorney, who stood at the table, con- versing in a low tone with the under-secretary. " Eh ! what's the matter ?" whispered Bubbleton, as he saw my colour come and go, and perceived that I leaned on a chair for support. " What the devil's wrong now ?" " You've betrayed me to my greatest enemy," said I, in a low, dis- tinct voice. " Eh ! what ! — why you seem to have nothing but foes in the world. Confound it, that's always my luck — my infernal good-nature is ever- lastingly making a wrong plunge." <: In that case, if I understand the matter aright, the bail is un- necessary," said Mr. Cooke, addressing Basset, who never turned his head to the part of the room where we stood. " No, sir ; it is not necessary. While the law assists me to re- sume my guardianship of this young gentleman, I am answerable for his appearance." " The indentures are quite correct," said Barton, as he laid the papers on the table, " as I believe Mr. Basset's statement to be also." " No bail necessary," interrupted Bubbleton, rubbing his hands pleasantly, "so much the better. Wish them good evening, Tom, my hearty ; we shall be back in time for supper. You wouldn't take an oyster, Mr. Cooke ?" " I thank you very much, but I am unfortunately engaged." " Not so fast, captain, I beg you," said Basset, with a most servile, But malignant expression in his features. " The habits I would incul- cate to my apprentice are not exactly consistent with mess-parties and barrack-suppers." " Apprentice '. apprentice !" said Bubbleton, starting as if stung by a wasp. " Eh ! you're surely not not the the " " Yes, sir ; there's the indenture, signed and sealed, if you are de- sirous to satisfy yourself. The young gentleman himself will not deny his father's instructions concerning him." I hung down my head abashed and ashamed. The tears started to my eyes ; I turned away to wipe them, and feared to face the others again ; I saw that Bubbleton, my only friend, believed I had practised some deceit on him — and how to explain, without disclosing what I dare not ! There was a bustle in the room — a sound of voices — the noise of feet descending the stairs ; and when I again looked round, they were all gone, save Basset, who was leisurely collecting his papers together, and fastening them with a string. I turned my eyes every- where, to see if Bubbleton had not remained. But no, he had left me like the rest, and I was alone with the man I most dreaded and dis- liked of all the world. " Well, sir," said Basset, as he thrust the papers into the pocket of his great coat, " I'm ready now." MESS, NO. XVII. VOL. II. I 1 14 orit mess. " "Where to, sir?" replied I, sternly, as he moved to leave the room; far without thinking of how and why I was to succeed in it, a vague resolution of defiance flitted through my mind. <• To »ii/ house, sir, or to Newgate, if you prefer it. Don't mistake, young gentleman, for a moment the position you occupy — you owe your liberation at this moment not to any merits of your own. Your connection with the disaffected and rebellious body is well known : iuy interest with the government is your only protection. Again, sir, let me add, that I have no peculiar desire for your company in my family : neither the habits nor the opinions you have acquired will suit those you'll meet there." •• Why, then, have you interfered with me?" said I passionately. "Why not have left me to my fate ? Be it what it might, it would have been not less acceptable, I assure you, than to become an inmate of your house." " That question were very easily answered," said he, interrupting me. " Then why not do so ?" " Come, come, sir, these are not the terms which are to subsist between us, nor is this the place to discuss our difference. Follow me." He led the way down stairs as he spoke, and, taking my arm within his, turned into the street. Without a word on either side we proceeded down Parliament-street, and crossing Essex-bridge followed the quays for some time, then turning into Stafford-street we arrived at a house, when having taken a latch-key from his pocket, Basset opened the door and ushered me in, muttering half aloud as he turned the key in the lock, and fastened the bolt, " safe at last." We turned from the narrow hall into a small parlour, which, from its dingy furniture of writing-desk and stools, I guessed to serve as an office. Here my companion lit a candle from the embers of the fire, and having carefully closed the door he motioned me to a seat. / " I have already told you, sir, that I am not in the least covetous of your company in my house — circumstances, which I may or may not explain hereafter, have led me to rescue you from the disgrace you must eventually have brought upon your family." " Hold, sir, I have none, save a brother " " Well, sir, and your brother's feelings are, I trust, not to be slightingly treated — a young gentleman whose position and prospects are of the very highest order." " You are his agent, I perceive, Mr. Basset," said I, with a significant smile. " I am, sir," replied he, with a deep flush that mounted even to his forehead. " Then let me save you all further trouble on my account," said I calmly. " My brother's indifference to me or my fate has long since absolved me from any regret I might feel for the consequences which my actions might induce on his fortunes. His own conduct must stamp him, as mine must ine. I choose to judge for myself, and not even Mr. Basset shall decide for me, although I am well aware his powers of discrimination have had the double advantage of experience on both Bides of the question." TOM BUSS! ')F "OURS." 1 15 As I said this, his face became almost livid, and his white lips quivered With passion. He knew not before that 1 was acquainted with his history, nor that I knew of his having sold to the government, information, which brought his schoolfellow and benefactor to the scaffold. " Come, come," continued I, gaining courage, as I saw the effect my words produced. " It is not your interest to injure me, however it may be your wish. Is there no arrangement we can come to, mutually- advantageous ? "We shall be but sorry companions. I ought to have some property under my grandfather's will." " There is, I believe, five hundred pounds," said Basset, with a slow distinctness, as if not rejecting the turn the conversation had taken. "Well, then, what will you take and cancel that indenture? You don't set a very high value on my services, I suppose." " You forget, I perceive," said he, " that I am answerable for your future appearance if called on." " There was no bail-bond drawn out, no sum mentioned, if I mistake not, Mr. Basset." " Very true, sir, very true ; but I pledged myself to the law adviser — my character is responsible." " \V ell, well, let me have two hundred pounds — burn that cursed indenture " " Two hundred pounds ! Do you fancy then that you are in the possession of this legacy ? Why, it never may, in all likelihood it never will, be yours — it's only payable on your attaining your majority." " Give me one hundred pounds, then — give me fifty — let me only be free, at liberty, and not absolutely a beggar on the streets." Basset leaned his head on the chimney, and seemed sunk in reflec- . tion, while I, wound up to the highest pitch of excitement, trod up and down the room — pouring forth from time to time short and broken sentences, declaratory of my desire to surrender all that I might chance to inherit by every casualty in life to my last guinea, only let there be no constraint on my actions — no attempt to control my personal liberty. "I see," cried I, passionately, " I see what hampers you — you fear I may compromise my family! It is my brother's fair fame you are think- ing of; but away with all dread on that score — I'll leave Ireland — I have long since determined on that." " Indeed!" said Basset slowly, as he turned round his head, and looked me full in the face. " Would you go to America, then ?" " To America ! no — to France ! that shall be the land of my adop- tion, as it is this moment of all my heart's longings." His eyes sparkled, and a gleam of pleasure shot across his cold features, as if he caught a glow of the enthusiasm that lit up mine. " Come," cried he, " I'll think of this— give me till to-morrow, and if you'll pledge yourself to leave Ireland within a week " " I'll pledge myself to nothing of the kind," replied I fiercely " It is to be free — free in thought as in act, that I would barter all my prospects with you. There must be but one compact between us — it must be^in and end here. Take a night if you will to think it over ; and to- morrow morning " .1 lift OUR MESS. "Well, then, to-morrow morning be it," said he, with- more of animation in his tone, " and now to supper." " To bed, rather," said I, " if I may speak my mind, for rest is what I now stand most in need of," CHAPTER XVII. MR. BASSET'S DWELLING. Excepting the two dingy-looking, dust-covered parlours, which served as office and dining-room, the only portion of Mr. Basset's dwelling untenanted by lodgers were the attics. The large brass plate that adorned the hall-door, setting forth inconspicuous letters, "Anthony Basset, attorney," gave indeed a most inadequate notion of the mixed population within, whose respectability, in the inverse ratio of their height from the ground, went on growing beautifully less, till it found its culminating point in the host himself, on whose venerable head the light streamed from a cobweb-covered pane in the roof. The stairs ■were dark and narrow, the walls covered with a dull-coloured old wainscot, that flapped and banged with every foot that came and went, while the windows were defended by strong iron railings, as if any thing inside them could possibly demand such means of protection. I followed Mr. Basset as he led the way up these apparently inter- minable stairs, till at length the decreasing head-room betokened that we were near the slates. Mumbling a half apology for the locale, he introduced me into a long, low attic, where a settle-bed of the humblest pretensions, and a single rush-bottomed chair supporting a basin, were the only articles of furniture. Something like the drop curtain of a strolling theatre closed up the distance; but this I could only perceive imperfectly by the dim twilight of a dipt candle ; and in my state of fatigue and weariness, I had little inclination to explore further. Wishing me a good night, and promising that I should be called betimes next morning, Mr. Basset took his leave, while I, overcome by a long day of care and anxiety, threw myself on the bed, and slept far more soundly than I could have believed it were possible for me to do under the roof of Anthony Basset. The sun was streaming in a rich flood of yellow light through a small sty-light, and playing its merry gambols on the floor when I awoke. The birds, too, were singing ; and the hum of the street noises, mellowed by distance, broke not unpleasantly on the ear. It did not take me long to remember where I was, and why. The conversation of i TOM BURKE OF "OORS." 11" the evening before recurred at once to my mind, and hope, stronger than ever before I felt it, filled my heart. It was clear, Basset could place little value on such services as mine ; and if I could only con- trive to make it his interest to part with me, he would not hesitate about it. I resolved that whatever price he put upon my freedom, if in my power, I should pay it. My next plan was, to find out through some of the persons in correspondence with France the means of reaching that country, in whose military service I longed to enrol myself. Had I but the papers of my poor friend Charles de Meudon, there had been little difficulty in this ; but, unfortunately, they were seized by Major Barton on the day of his death, and I had never seen them since. While I revolved these thoughts within myself I heard the merry notes of a girl's voice, singing, apparently, in the very room with me. I started up and looked about me, and now perceived that what seemed so like a drop-curtain the night before, was nothing more or less than a very large patch-work quilt, suspended on a line across the entire attic, from the other side of which came the sounds in question. It was clear, both from the melody and the voice, that she could not be a servant; and somewhat curious to know more of my fair neigh- bour, I rose gently, and slipping on my clothes, approached the boundary of my territory with noiseless step. A kind of whistling noise interrupted every now and then the lady's song, and an occasional outbreak of impatience would burst forth in the middle of the " Arrah, wall you marry me, dear Alley Croker," by some malediction on a " black knot" or a broken string. I peeped over the " drop," and beheld the figure of a young, plump, and pretty girl, busily engaged in lacing her stays — an occupation which accounted equally for the noise of the rushing stay-lace and the bit of peevish- ness I had heard. I quite forgot how r inadvisable was the indulgence of my curiosity in my admiration of my fair neighbour, whose buxom figure, not the less attractive for the shortness of her drapery, showed itself to peculiar advantage as she bent to one side and the other in her efforts to fasten the impracticable boddice. A mass of rich brown hair, on which the sun was playing, fell over her neck and on her shoulders, and half concealed her round, well-turned arms as they plied their busy task. " Well, ain't my heart broke with you entirely !" exclaimed she, as a stubborn knot stopped all further progress. At this moment the cord, on which through inadvertence I had leaned somewhat too heavily, gave way, and down came the curtain with a squash to the floor. She sprang back with a bound, and, while a slight but momen- tary blush flushed her cheek, stared at me half-angrily, and then cried out — " Well, I hope you like me ?" "Yes, that I do," said I, readily — "and who wouldn't that saw you?" Whether it was the naivete of my confession, or my youth, or both, I can't well say; but she laughed heartily at my speech, and threw herself into a chair to indulge her mirth. " So we were neighbours, it seems," said I. 118 OUR MESS. " And if we were," said she, roguishly, " I think it's a very uncere- monious way you've opened the acquaintance." " You forget, apparently, I haven't left my own territory." " Well, I'm sure I wish you would, if you're any good at a black knot : my heart and my nails are both broke with one here." I didn't wait for any more formal invitation, but stepped at once over the frontier — while she, rising from the chair, turned her back towards me, as with her finger she directed me to the most chaotic assemblage of knots, twists, loops, and entanglements, I ever beheld. "And you're Burke, I suppose," cried she, as I commenced my labours. " Yes, I'm Burke." " Well, I hope you're done with wildness by this time. Uncle Tony tells fine tales of your doings." " Uncle Tony ! So you're Mr. Basset's niece — is that so ?" " You didn't take me for his wife, I hope," said she, again bursting out into laughter. " In truth, I never thought so well of him as to suppose it." " Well, well, I'm sure it's little I expected you to look so mild and so cpiiet ; but you needn't pinch me for all that. Isn't your name Tom ?" " Yes, I hope you'll always call me so." " Maybe I will. Isn't that done yet ? and there's the milk bell. Uncle will be in a nice passion if I'm not down soon — cut it — cut it at once." " Now do be patient for a minute or two- — it's all right if vou stay quiet. I'll try my teeth on it." " Yes, but you needn't try your lips too," said she, tartly. " Why, it's the only plan to get your fingers out of the way. I'm sure I never was so puzzled in all my life." "Nothing like practice, my boy, nothing!" cried a merry voice from the door behind me, half choked with laughing, while a muttered anathema, in a deeper tone, followed. I looked back, and tlxre stood Bubbleton, his face florid with laughter, endeavouring to hold back Mr. Basset, whose angry look and flashing eye there was no mistaking. " Mr. Burke — Burke, I say Nelly, what does this mean ? How came this young gentleman " " As to that," said I, interrupting him, and my olood somewhat chafed by his manner, "this piece of trumpery tumbled down when i ined my arm on it. I had no idea " " No, no ; to be sure not," broke in Bubbleton, in an ecstaey. " The ■i was delicious ; such a bit of stage effect. She was there, as it nt be, combing her hair, and all that sort of thing. Tom was here ing about absence, and eternal separation. You are an angry father, or uncle — all the same:' and I'm Count Neitztachenitz, the old friend and brother-officer of Tom's father. Now let Miss Nelly — but \> I i he? why she's gone! Eh, and Basset, Basset why he's g< Come, Tom, don't you go too. I say, my boy, devilish well got up TOM RUKKi; OF"OfES." 119 that. You ought to have had a white satin doubh'i and hose) slashed with pale cherry colour ribbons to match, small hat looped, aigrette and white plume. She was perfect — her leg and foot were three certain rounds of applause from the pit and gallery." " What nonsense," said I angrily ; " we weren't playing a comedy." " Weren't you though ? well, I'm deuced sorry for it, that's all j but it did look confoundedly like an undress rehearsal." " Come, come, no foolery, I beg. I'm here in a very sad plight, and this piece of nonsense may not make matters any better. Listen to me, if you can, patiently for five minutes, and give me your advice." I took him by the arm as I spoke, and leading him from the room, where I saw that every thing was only suggesting some piece of scinio effect, and in as few words as I could command, explained how I was cir- cumstanced ; omitting of course any detail of my political bias, and oniy stated so much of my desires as implied my wish to be free of my eontraet with Basset, and at liberty to dispose of myself as I liked in iutmv. " I see," cried Bubbleton, as I finished; " the old fox has. this live hundred pounds of yours." " No, I didn't say that ; I only mean " " Well, well, it's all the same. If he hasn't, you know, he ought." " No ; that's not essential either." " No matter, he would if he could ; it just comes to the same thing: and you only wish to get clear out of his hands at any co.-t. Isn't that it?" " Exactly ; you have it all perfectly." " Bless your heart, boy, there's nothing easier. If I were in your place, I should arrange the affair in less than a week. I'd have fits — strong fits, and burn all the papers in the office during the paroxysm. I'd make a pile of deeds, leases, bonds, and settlements in the back yard." " I don't fancy your plan would be so successful as you flatter your- self," said a dry husky voice behind: "there's rather a stringent law for refractory apprentices, as Mr. Burke may learn." We turned round, and there stood Mr. Basset, with a grin of most diabolical malignity in his by no means pleasant features. " At the same time," continued he, "your suggestions are of infinite value, and shall be. duly appreciated in the King's Bench." "Eh — King's Bench! Lord bless you, don't speak of it. Mere trifles — ■ I just threw them out as good hints. I had fifty far better to qorae, There's the young lady now — to be sure, he has started that notion himself, so I must not pretend it was mine ; but Miss Nelly, I think) Tom " " Mr. Basset is well aware," interrupted I, "that I am only desirous to be free and untrammelled ; that whatever little means I may derive from my family, I'm willing to surrender all, short of actual beggary, to attain this object — that I intend quitting Ireland at once. If then he consent to enter into an arrangement with me, let it be at once, and on the spot. I have no desire, I have no power to force him by a threat, in .case of refusal; but I h'ope he will make so much of am< r.d to one, of whose present desolation and poverty he is not altogether innocent." 120 OUR UE9S. " There, there ; that's devilish well said ; the whole thing is all clear before me. So come along, Basset, you and I will settle all this. Have you got a private room where we can have five minutes' chat together ? Tom, wait for me here." Before either of us could consent or oppose his arrangement, he had taken Basset's arm, and led him down stairs, while I, in a flurry of opposing and conflicting resolves, sat down to think over my fortunes. Tired at length with waiting, and half suspecting that my volatile friend had forgotten me and all my concerns, I descended to the par- lour in hopes to hear something of the pending negotiation. At the head of a long narrow table sat my fair acquaintance, Miss Nelly, her hair braided very modestly at each side of her pretty face, which had now assumed an almost Quakerish propriety of expression. She was busily engaged in distributing tea to three pale, red-eyed, emaciated men, whose spongy-looking, thread-bare garments bespoke to be attor- neys' clerks : a small imp, a kind of embryo practitioner, knelt before the fire in the aot of toasting bread ; but followed with his sharp piercing eyes every stir in the apartment, and seemed to watch -with malicious pleasure the wry faces around, whenever any undue dilution of the bohea, or any curtailment of the blue milk pressed heavily on the guests. These were not exactly the circumstances to renew my acquaintance with my fair neighbour, had I been so minded ; so having declined her offer of breakfast, 1 leaned moodily on the chimney-piece, my anxiety to know my fate becoming each instant more painful. Meanwhile, not a word was spoken — a sad moody silence, unbroken save by the sounds of eating, pervaded all, when suddenly the door of the front parlour was flung open, and Bubbleton's pleasant voice was heard as he talked away unceasingly; in an instant he entered followed by Basset, over whose hard countenance a shade of better nature seemed to pass. " In that case," cried the captain, " I'm your man, not that I'm any thing of a performer at breakfast or dinner ; supper's rather my forte — an odour of a broiled bone at three in the morning, a herring smeared with chetna, and grilled with brandy, two hundred of small oysters, a few hot ones to close with, a glass of Seltzer dashed with Hollands, for health, and then, any number you like of glasses of hot brandy and water afterwards for pleasure." While Bubbleton ran on in this fashion, he had broken about half a dozen eggs into the slop basin, and seasoning the mess with pepper and vinegar, was busily engaged in illustrating the moderation of his morning appetite. " Try a thing like this, Tom," cried he, not defining how it was to be effected under the circumstances, while he added in a whisper, " your affair's all right r" These few words brought, courage to my heart ; and I ventured to begin the breakfast that had lain untasted before me. " I think, Mr. Burke," said Basset, as soon as he recovered from the surprise Bubbleton's mode of breakfasting had excited — " I think and trust that all has been arranged to your satisfaction :" then turning to the clerks, who eat away without even lifting their heads, " Mr. Mug- . - //', / TOM BURKE OP '• OURS." 121 gridge, you will be late at the master's office ; Jones, take that parcel to llennett ; Kit, carry my bag up to the courts." Miss Nelly did not wait for the part destined for her; but with a demure face rose from the table and left the room, giving me, how- ever, one sly glance as she passed my chair, that I remembered for many a day after. " You'll excuse me, gentlemen, if I am pressed for time this morning — a very particular case comes on in the Common Pleas." " Never speak of it, my dear fellow," said Bubbleton, who had just addressed himself to a round of spiced beef, — "business has its calls, just as pleasure has — ay, and appetite too. That would make an excel- lent bit of supper, with some mulled port, after a few rubbers of shorts." Basset paid little attention to this speech ; but turning to me, continued, " You mentioned your intention of leaving Ireland, I think ; might I ask where you have decided on from where It is possible that your brother " " My brother's anxieties on my account, Mr. Basset, can scarcely be very poignant, and deserve no particular respect or attention at my hands. I suppose that this morning has concluded all necessary intercourse between us ; and if you have satisfied my friend Captain Bubbleton " " Perfectly, perfectly another cup of tea, if you please yes, no- thing could be more gratifying than Mr. Basset's conduct — you are merely to sign the receipt for the legacy, and he hands you over one hundred pounds ; isn't that it ?" " Yes, quite correct ; my bill for one hundred at three months." " That's what I mean ; but surely you're not done breakfast — why, Tom, you've eaten nothing — I have been picking away this half hour, just to encourage you a bit — well, well, I lunch in Stephen's-green at three, so here goes." Mr. Basset now took from his pocket-book some papers, which, having glanced his eye over, he handed to me. " This is a kind of acknowledgment, Mr. Burke, for the receipt of a legacy to which you could be only entitled on attaining your majority ; here are your indentures to me, and this is my acceptance for one hundred pounds." " I am content," said I, eagerly, as I seized the pen. The thought of my liberty alone filled my mind, and I cared little for the conditions, provided I secured that. Basset proffered his hand ; I was in no humour to reject any thing that even simulated cordiality ; I shook it heartily. Bubbleton followed my example, and, having pledged himself to see more of his pleasant acquaintance, thrust his arm through mine, and bustled out, adding in a tone loud enough to be overheard — " Made a capital fight of it — told him you were a defender, a united Irishman, a peep-o'-day boy, and all that sort of thing — devilish glad to get rid of you, even on Miss Nelly's account," and so he rattled away without ceasing, until we found our- selves at the George's-street barracks, my pre-occupation of mind preventing my even having remarked what way we came. 1 22 OUR MESS. CHAPTER XVIII. THE CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS. I was not sorry to find that Miss Bubbleton did not respond to the noisy summons of the captain as he nourished about from one room to the other, making the quarters echo to the sweet name of "Anna Maria." H Saladin," " Grimes," "Peter," were also shouted out unsuccessfully ; and with a tierce menace against various grooms of the chambers, waiting- men, and lackeys, who happily were still unborivBubbleton flung himself into a seat, and began to conjecture what had become of the inhabitants. "She's paying a morning call — gone to see the duchess — that's it, or perhaps she's looking over that suit of pearls I bought yesterday at Gallon's — pretty baubles, but dear at eight hundred pounds — never mind, what's money for — eh, Tom ?" As he looked at me for a reply I drew my chair closer towards him, and assuming as much of importance as my manner could command, I besought his attention for a moment. Hitherto, partly from my own indecision, partly from his flighty and volatile bearing, I never had an opportunity either to explain my real position or my political sentiments, much less my intentions for the future. The moment had at length arrived, and I resolved to profit by it ; and, in as few words as I was able, gave a brief narrative of my life from the hour of my father's death to the day in which I fell into his own hands in Dublin, only omitting such portions as might, by the mention of names, compromise others concerned. Nothing could possibly be more attentive than he w r as, during the entire detail — he leaned his head on his hand, and listened with eager curiosity to all my scrapes and difficulties, occasionally nodding in assent, and now evincing by his excited air his desire to learn further ; and when I at last wound up by avowing my long-cherished desire to enter the French service, he sat perfectly silent and seemed to •t gravely on the whole. " I say, Tom," said he at length, as he stared me full in the face, and laid his hand impressively on my knee, "there's good stuff in that — excellent stuff*! depend upon it!" " Good stuff"! what do you mean?" said I, in amazement. " I mean," replied he, " there's bone in it, sinew in it, substance in it . — there are some admirable situations too. How Fulham would come out in Tony Basset — brown shorts, white stockings, high shoes and buckles — his own very costume; and there's that little thing Miss Booth, for Nelly, give her a couple of songs, ballad aira takebest; Williams should be Barton — a devilish fine villain in coarse parts, Williams. I think I see him stealing along by the flats with his soldiers to the attack. Tom buuke of " ouns." 123 Then the second act should open — interior of hut— peasants round a table — eating always successful on the stage — nothing like seeing a i'iit fellow bolting hard eggs, and blustering out unpronounceable jokes over a tlagon of coloured water — you by right should have your own part — splendid thing — devilish fine, your sensations when the cabin was on fire, and the fellows were prodding about with their bayonets to discover you." " And who's to perform Captain Bubbleton ?" asked I, venturing for once to humour his absurdity. " Eli ? — oh, there's nothing for me, no marked feature, nothing strong, nothing characteristic. That has been through life my greatest, my very highest ambition — that no man should ever detect by any thing in my manner, my dress, or my style of conversation, that I was not John Nokes, or Peter Styles. You'll meet me at a dinner party, Tom, you'll converse with me, drink with me, we'll sit the evening together, grow intimate — perhaps you'll borrow fifty pounds of me, and yet I'd wager another,, you'd never guess that I rode a hippopotamus across the Ganges after tiffin one day, to pay my respects to the governor-general. That, let me tell you, Tom, is the very proudest boast a man can make. Do you sec that scar ? It looks nothing now — that was a bite from a ferocious boa ; the villain got into my room before breakfast, he had eaten my chokadar, a fellow I was very fond of " " Ah, I remember you mentioned that to me. And now to come back to my dull story, to which I assure you, however dramatic you may deem it, I'd prefer adding an act or so before it comes before the world. I intend to leave this to-morrow." " No, no, you mustn't think of it yet awhile — why, my dear fellow, you've a hundred pounds — only think of that ; twenty will bring you to Paris, less if you choose. I once travelled from Glugdamuck to the Ghauts of Bunderamud for half a rupee — put my elephants on three biscuits a day — explained to them in Hindostanee, a most expres- sive language, that our provisions had fallen short — that on our arrival all arrears of grub should be made up. They tossed up their trunks thus in token of assent, and on we marched. Well, when we came to Helffie, there was no water " a " Very true," interrupted I, half, in despair at the torrent of story- telling I had got involved in ; " but you forget I have neither elephants nor camels, nor coolies, nor chokadars — I'm a mere adventurer with, except yourself, not a friend in the world." " Then why not join us ?" cried the ever-ready captain. " We are to have our orders for foreign service in a few weeks — you've only to volunteer ; you've money enough to buy your kit. When you're fairly in, it's only writing to your brother; besides, something always turns up : that's my philosophy. I rarely want any thing I don't find means to obtain, somehow or other." " No," said I, resolutely, " I will never join the service of a country which has inflicted such foul wrong on my native land." M All stuff and nonsense," cried Bubbleton. " Who cares the deuce of clubs about politics ; when you're my age, you'll find that if you'rej 124 OUK MESS. not making something of politics, they'll make* very little of you. I'd as soon sell tigs for my grocer, or snuff for my tobacconist, as I'd bother mv head governing the kingdom for Billy Pitt — he's paid for it; that's his business, not mine. No, no, my boy, join us — you shall he ' Burke of our/ — we'll have a glorious campaign among the Yankees. I'll teach you the Seneca language — and we'll have a ramble through the Indian settlements. Meanwhile, you dine to-day at the mess ; to-mor- row, we pic-nic at the Dargle ; next day, we what the deuce is next day to be oh, yes, next day we all dine with you. Nothing stiff or formal — a snug, quiet thing for sixteen — I'll manage it all." Here was an argument there was no resisting, so I complied at once, comforting myself with a silent vow come what might I'd leave Ireland the day after my dinner-part}'. Under whatever guise, with what history of my rank, wealth, and family influence, Bubbleton thought proper to present me to his brother officers I cannot say ; but nothing could possibly be more kind, or even more cordial, than their reception of me ; and although I had some difficulty in replying to questions put under mistaken notions of my position and intentions, I readily followed, as far as I was able, the line suggested by my imaginative friend, whose representations, I suspected, would be received with a suitable limitation by his old associates. There is, perhaps, no species of society so striking and so captivating to the young man entering on life, as that of a military mess. The easy, well-bred intimacy, that never degenerates into undue familiarity — . the good-humoured, playful raillery, that never verges on coarseness or severity — the happy blending of old men's wisdom and young men's buoyancy — are all very attractive features of social intercourse, even independently of the stronger interest that invests the companionship of men whose career is arms. I felt this ; and enjoyed it too not the less pleasantly that I discovered no evidence of that violent partizan feel- ing 1 had been led to believe was the distinguishing mark of the royalist soldier. If by chance any allusion was made to the troubles of the period, it was invariably done rather in a tone of respect for mistaken and ill- directed political views, than in reprehension of disloyalty and rebellion ; and when I heard the dispassionate opinions, and listened to the mild counsels of these men, whom I had always believed to be the veriest tyrants and oppressors, I could scarcely credit my own senses, so utterly opposed were my impressions and my experience. One only of the party evinced an opposite feeling. He was a pale, thin, rather handsome man, of about five and twenty, who had lately joined them from a dragoon regiment, and who, by sundry little innuendos, was ever bringing uppermost the preference he evinced for his former service, and his ardent jdesire to be 'back again in the cavalry. Captain Montague Crofts was, indeed, the only exception I witnessed to the almost brotherly feeling that prevailed in the forty-fifth. Instead of identifying .himself with the habits and opinions of his brother officers, he held himself studiously apart* Regarding his stay in the regiment like a period of probation, he seemed resolved to form TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 125 neither intimacies nor friendships, but to wait patiently for the time of his leaving the corps, to emancipate himself from a society below his caste. The cold, repulsive, steady stare, the scarcely-bowed head, the im- passive silence with which he heard the words of Bubbleton's introduc- tion of me, formed a strong contrast with the warm cordiality of the others ; and though at the time little disposed to criticise the manner of any one, and still less to be dissatisfied with any thing, I conceived from the moment a dislike to Captain Crofts, which I felt to increase with every minute I spent in his company. The first occasion which suggested this dislike on my part was, from observing that while Bubbleton — whose historical accuracy, or blind adherence to reality, no one in the corps thought of requiring — narrated some of his incre- dible adventures, Crofts, far from joining in the harmless mirth which such tales created, invariably took delight in questioning and cross-questioning the worthy captain, quoting him against himself, and playing off a hundred tricks which, however smart and witty in a law court, are downright rudenesses when practised in society. Bubbleton, it is true, saw nothing in all this save the natural interest of a good listener: but the others did; and it was quite clear to me, that while one was the greatest favourite in the regiment, the other had not a single friend amongst them. To me, Crofts manifested the most perfect indifference — not ever mixing himself in any conversation in which I bore a part. He rarely turned his head towards the part of the table at which I sat ; and by an air of haughty superciliousness gave me plainly to understand that our acquaintance, though confessedly begun, was to proceed no further. I cannot say how happy I felt to learn, that one I had so much cause to dislike, was a violent aristocrat, an ultra-Tory — a most uncompromising denouncer of the Irish liberal party, and an out-and-out advocate of severe and harsh measures towards the people. He never missed an opportunity for the enun- ciation of such doctrines, which, whatever might be the opinions of the listeners, there was, at the time 1 speak of, no small risk in gainsaying; and this immunity did Crofts enjoy to his heart's content. Slight as these few reminiscences of the mess are, they are the called-up memories of days not to be forgotten by me. For now, what with my habitual indecision on the one hand, and Bubbleton's solicitations on the other, I continued to linger on in Dublin, leading the careless, easy life of those about me, joining in all the plots for amusement which the capital afforded, and mixing in every society to which my military friends had access. Slender as were my resources, they sufficed, in the eyes of all who knew not their limit, to appear abundant. Crofts was the only rich man in the regiment ; and my willingness to enter into every scheme of pleasure, regardless of cost, impressed them all with the notion that Bubbleton for once was right, and that "Burke was a kind of west-country Croesus," invaluable to the regiment. Week after week rolled on, and still did I find myself a denizen of George's-street : the silly routine of the barrack life filled all my 126 OUR MESS. , thoughts, save when the waning condition of my purse would mo- mentarily turn them towards the future; but these moments of reflec- tion came but seldom, and at last camp not at all. It was autumn — ■ the town almost divested of its inhabitants, at least of all who could leave it ; and along the parched, sun-burnt streets, a stray jingle or a noddy was rarely seen to pass. The squares, so lately crowded with equipages and cavalcades of horsemen, were silent and deserted; the closed shutters of every house, and the grass-grown steps, vouched for the absence of the owners. The same dreamy lethargy that seemed to rest over the deserted city, appeared to pervade every thing; and save a certain subdued activity among the officials of the Castle — a kind of ground-swell movement that boded something important — there Mas nothing stirring. The great measure of the " Union," which had been carried on the night of the riots, had however annihilated the hopes of the Irish liberal party ; and many who once had taken a lead- ing part in politics had now deserted public life for ever. They with whom I associated cared but little for these things. There were but two or three Irish in the regiment, and they had long 6ince lost all their nationality in the wear and tear of the service; so that I heard nothing of what occupied the public mind, and lived on in the very midst of the threatening hurricane, in a calm as deep as death itself. I had neither seen Barton nor Basset since the day of my leave- taking ; and, stranger still, never could meet with Darby, who seemed to have deserted Dublin. The wreck of the party he belonged to seemed now effectually accomplished, and the prospect of Irish independence was lost, as it seemed, for ever. I was sitting one evening in the window of Bubbleton's quarters, thinking over these things, not without self-reproach for the life I was leading, so utterly adverse to the principles I had laid down for my guidance. I thought of poor De Meudon, and all his ambitious dreams for my success, and I felt my cheek flush with shame for my base desertion of the cause to which, with his dying breath, he devoted me. I brought up in memory those happy evenings, as we wandered through the fields talking over the glorious campaigns of Italy, or ■peculating on the mighty changes we believed yet before us; and then I thought of the reckless orgies in which my present life was passed. I remembered how his full voice would falter when one great name fell from his lips; and with what reverence he touched his ehapeau as the word " Buonaparte" escaped from him! — and how my In art thrilled to think of an enthusiasm that could light up the dying embers of a broken heart, and make it flash out in vivid brilliancy once more ! and longed to feel as he did. Por the first time for some weeks I found myself alone. Bubbleton was on guard ; and though I had promised to join him at supper, I lingered at home, to think and ponder over the past: I scarcely dared to (jjee the future. It was growing dusky. The rich golden arch of an autumn moon could be seen through the hazy mist of that half frost whieh is at this season the sure harbinger of a hot day on the mor- TOM BURKE OF "OURS. 127 row. The street noises had gradually died away, and save the distant sound of a ballad-singer, whose mournful cadence fell sadly on the ear, I heard nothing. Without perceiving it, I found myself listening to the doggrel of the minstrel, who, like most of her fellows of the period, was celebrating the means that had been used by government to carry their favourite measure, the union with England. There was, indeed, very little to charm the ear, or win the sense, in either the accent or the sentiment of the melody ; yet somehow she had contrived to collect a pretty tolerable audience, who moved slowly along with her down the street, and evinced by many an outburst of enthusiasm how thoroughly they relished the pointed allusions of the verse, and how completely they enjoyed the dull satire of the song. As they approached the barracks, the procession came to a halt, probably deeming that so valuable a lesson should not be lost to his majesty's service ; and, forming into a circle around the singer, a silence was commanded — when, with that quavering articulation so characteristic of the tribe, and that strange quality of voice that seems to alternate between a high treble and a deep bass, the lady began — ■ " Don't be crowdin' an me that a way. There it is now — ye're tearin' the cloak otF the back o' me ! Divil receave the note I'll sing, if ye don't behave And look at his honour up there, wid a tenpenuy bit in the heel of his fist for me. The Lord reward your purty face — 'tis yourself has the darlin' blue eyes ! Bad scran to yez, ye blaggards — look at my elegant bonnet the way you've made it !" " Arrah ! rise the tune, and don't be blarneying the young gentle- man," said a voice from the crowd ; and then added, in a lower but very audible tone — " Them chaps hasn't a farthin' beyond their pay — three and ninepence a day, and find themselves in pipeclay !" A rude laugh followed this insolent speech ; and the ballad-singer, whose delay had only been a ruse to attract a sufficient auditory, then began to a very well-known air — " Come hither, M.P.'s, and I'll tell My advice, and I'm sure you'll not mock it : Whoe'er has a country to sell, Need never want gold in his pocket. Your brother a bishop shall be — Yourself — if you only will make a Voice in our ma-jo-rity — We'll make you chief judge in Jamaica. Tol, lol de rol, tol de rol lay !" The mob-chorus here broke in, and continued with such hearty enthusiasm, that I lost the entire of the next verse in the tumult. " Your father, they say, is an ass, And your mother, not noted for knowledge ; But he'll do very well at Madras, And she shall be provost of college. 128 OVK MESS. Your aunt, lady's-maid to the queen ; And BUI, if he'll give up his rakin', And not drunk in day-time be seen, I'll make him a rosy archdeacon. Tol, lol de rol, tol de rol lay ! A jollier set ne'er was seen, Than you'll be, when freed from your callin', With an empty house in College-green — What an elegant place to play ball in Ould Foster stand by with his mace, He'll do mighty well for a marker ; John Toler " " Here's the polis !" said a gruff voice from the crowd ; and the word was repeated from mouth to mouth in every accent of fear and dread, while in an instant all took to flight, some dashing down obscure lanes and narrow alleys, others running straight onwards towards Dame-street, but all showing the evident apprehension they felt at the approach of these dreaded officials. The ballad-singer alone did not move. Whether too old or too infirm to trust to speed, or too much terrified to run, I know not; but there she stood, the last cadence of her song still dying on her lips, while the clattering sounds of men advancing rapidly were heard in the distant street. I know not why, some strange momentary impulse, half pity, half caprice, moved me to her rescue, and I called out to the sentry — " Let that woman pass in !" She heard the words, and M-ith an activity greater than I could have expected, sprang into the barrack-yard, while the police passed eagerly on in vain pursuit of their victims. I remained motionless in the window-seat, watching the now silent street, when a gentle tap came to my door. I opened it, and there stood the figure of the ballad-singer, her ragged cloak gathered closely across her face with one hand, while with the other she held the bundle of printed songs, her only stock in trade. TOM BURKE OF "OURS." 129 CHAPTER XIX. THE QUARREL. While I stood gazing at the uncouth and ragged figure before me, she pushed rudely past, and, shutting the door behind her, asked in a low whisper, "are ye alone?" and then, without waiting for a reply, threw back the tattered bonnet that covered her head, and, removing a wig of long black hair, stared steadfastly at me. " Do you know me now ?" said the hag, in a voice of almost menacing eagerness. "What!" cried I, in amazement, "it surely cannot be Darby, is this really you ?" " Ye may well say it," replied he bitterly. " Ye had time enough to forget me since we met last ; and 'tis thinking twice your grand friends the officers would be, before they'd put their necks where mine is now to see you. Read that" — as he spoke he threw a ragged and torn piece of printed paper on the table — "read that ; and you'll see there's five hun- dred pounds of blood-money to the man that takes me. Ay, and here I stand this minit in the king's barrack, and walked fifty-four miles this blessed day just to see you and speak to you once more. — Well, well," he turned away his head while he said this, and wiping a starting tear from his red eye-ball, he added — " Master Tom, 'tis myself would never b'lieve ye done it." "Did what?" said I, eagerly: "what have I ever done that you should charge me thus ?*' But Darby heard me not : his eyes were fixed on vacancy, and his lips moved rapidly as though he were speaking to himself. "Ay," said he half aloud, " true enough, 'tis the gentlemen that betrayed us always — never came good of the cause where they took a part. But you" — here he turned full round, and grasping my arm, spoke directly to me — "you that I loved better than my own kith and kin, that I thought wo ild one day be a pride and glory to us all — you that I brought over myself to the cause " " And when have I deserted — when have I betrayed it ?" " When did you desert it ?" repeated he, in a tone of mocking irony. " Tell me the day and the hour ye came here — tell me the first time ye sat down among the red butchers of King George, and I'll answer ye that. Is it here you ought to be ? Is this the home for him that has a heart for Ireland ? I never said you betrayed us ; others said it — but I stood to it, ye-never did that. But what does it signify? 'Tis no wonder ye left us ; we were poor and humble people, we had nothing at heart but the good cause •" MESS, NO. XVIII. — VOL. II. K 130 OUR MESS. " Stop," cried I, maddened by his taunts — " what could I have done? where was my place ?" '• Don't ask me. If your own heart doesn't teach ye, how can I ? But it's over now — the day is gone, and I must take to the road again. My heart is lighter since I seen you, and it will be lighter again when I give you this warnin' — God knows if you'll mind it : — you think yourself safe now since you joined the sodgers — you'd think they trust you, and that Barton's eye isn't on ye still — there isn't a word you say isn't noted down — not a man you spake to, isn't watched ! You don't know it, but I know it. There's more go to the gallows in Ireland over their wine, than with the pike in their hands. Take care of your friends, I say." " You wrong them, Darby, and you wrong me.- Never have I heard from one here a single word that could offend the proudest heart among us." u Why would they — what need of it ; ar'n't we down, down — ar'n't we hunted like wild beasts ; is the roof left to shelter us ; dare we walk the roads ; dare we say ' God save ye' when we meet, and not be tried for pass- words ? It's no wonder they pity us — the hardest heart must melt sometimes." " As to myself," said I, for there was no use in attempting to reason with him further, " my every wish is with the cause as warmly as on the day we parted ; but I look to France " " Ay, and why not ? I remember the time your eye flashed and your cheek grew another colour when you spoke of that." " Yes, Darby," said I, after a pause, " and I had not been here now, but that the only means I possessed of forwarding myself in the French service are unfortunately lost to me." " And what was that ?" interrupted he eagerly. " Some letters which the poor Captain de Meudon gave me," said I, endeavouring to seem as much at ease as I could. Darby stooped down as I spoke, and ripping open the lining of his cloak, produced a small parcel fastened with a cord saying — " Are these what you mean ?" I opened it with a trembling hand, and, to my inexpressible delight, discovered Charles's letter to the head of the ecole militaire, together with a letter of credit, and two checks on his banker. The note to his sister was not, however, among them. " How came you by these, Darby ?" inquired I, eagerly. <: I found them on the road Barton travelled the same evening you made your escape from the yeomanry — you remember that — they were soon missed, and an orderly was sent back to search for them. Since that I've kept them by me, and it was only yesterday that I thought of bringing them to you, thinking you might know something about them." " There's a mark on this one," said I, still gazing on the paper in my hand — " it looks like blood." u If it is, it's mine then," said Darby, doggedly, and after a pause he continued — " the soldier galloped up the very minute I was stoop- i m jj tom BURKE or "orns." 131 mg for the papers ; he called out to me 1o give them up, but I pretended not to hear, and took a long look round to see what way I could escape where his horse couldn't follow me; but he saw what I was at, and the same instant his sabre was in my shoulder, and the blood running hot down my arm — I fell on my knees, but if I did, I took this from my breast," here he drew forth a long-barrelled rusty pistol, "and shot him through the neck." " Was he killed ?" said I, in horror at the coolness of the recital. " Sorrow one o' me knows. — He fell on his horse's mane, and I saw the beast gallop with him up the road with his arms hanging at each side of the neck ; and then I heard a crash, and I saw that he was down, and the horse was dragging him by the stirrup ; but the dust soon hid him from my sight, and indeed I was growing weak too, so I crept into the bushes until it was dark, and then got down to Glencree." The easy indifference with which he spoke, the tone of coolness in which he narrated this circumstance, thrilled through me far more painfully than the most passionate description ; and I stood gazing on him with a feeling of dread, that unhappily my features but too plainly indicated. He seemed to know what was passing in my mind, and, as if stung by Avhat he deemed my ingratitude for the service he rendered me, his face grew darkly red, the swollen veins stood out thick and knotted in his forehead, his livid lips quivered, and he said in a thick guttural voice — " Maybe ye think I murdered him ?" And then as I made no answer, he resumed in a different tone— "And, faix, ye warn't long larnin' their lessons. But hear me now — there never was a traitor to the cause had a happy life, or an easy death ; there never was one betrayed U3, but we were revenged on him or his. I don't think ye're come to that yet ; for if I did, by the mortial " As he pronounced the last word, in a tone of the fiercest menace, the sounds of many voices talking without, and the noise of a key turning in the lock, broke in upon our colloquy ; and Darby had barely time to resume his disguise when Bubbleton entered, followed by three of his brother officers, all speaking together, and in accents that evidently betokened their having drank somewhat freely. " I tell you, again and again, the diamond wins it ; but here we are," cried Bubbleton, " and now for a pack of cards, aud let's decide the thing at once." " You said you'd bet fifty, 1 think," drawled out Crofts, who was unquestionably the most sober of the party "but what have we here? ' At this instant his eye fell upon Darby, who had quietly ensconced himself behind the door, and hoped to escape unseen. " Eh — what's this, I say ?" " What !" cried Bubbleton, " what do I see ; a nymph with bright and flowing hair — a hag like Hecuba, by Jove ! Tom Burke, my man, how comes the damsel here ?" "'Tis Kitty, ould Kitty Cole, your honour. The young gentleman was buying a ballad from me, the heavens prosper him," said Darby. 132 OUR MESS, " Nothing treasonous, I hope — no disloyal effusion Tom — no scandal about Queen Elizabeth, my boy — eh ?" M Come, old lady," said Cradock, " let's have the latest novelty of the Liberty." "Yes," said Bubbleton, "strike the harp in praise of confound the word." "Hang the old crone," broke in Hilliard: "here are the cards. The game stands thus : — a spade is led — you've got none — hearts are trumps." " No, you mistake, the diamond's the trump," said Cradock. " I cry halt," said Crofts, holding up both his hands ; " the first tiling is, what's the bet?" " Any tiling you like," cried Bubbleton, " fifty — a hundred — 'five hundred." " Be it then five hundred ; I take you," said Crofts, coolly, taking a memorandum-book from his pocket. " No, no," interposed Hilliard, " Bubbleton, you shan't do any such thing ; five — ten — twenty, if you wish, but I'll not stand by at such a wager." " Well, then, if twenty be as much as you have got permission to bet," replied Crofts, insolently, " there's my stake ;" so saying, he threw a note on the table, and looked over at Bubbleton, as if awaiting his doing the same. I saw my poor friend's embarrassment, and, without stirring from my place, slipped a note into his hand in silence ; a squeeze of his fingers replied to me, and the same instant he threw the crumpled piece of paper down, and cried out, " Now for it — decide the point." Crofts at once drew his chair to the table, and began with the utmost coolness to arrange the cards ; while the others, deeply interested in the point at issue, looked on without speaking. I thought this a good opportunity for Darby to effect his escape, and, raising my hand noiselessly, I pointed to the door. Darby, who had been only waiting fur the fortunate moment, stole quietly towards it ; but, while his hand was on the lock, Crofts lifted his eyes towards me, and then throwing them half round, intimated at once that he observed the manoeuvre. The blood suffused my face and temples, and though I saw the door close behind the piper, I could not recover from my embarrassment, or the fear that pressed on me, lest Crofts should have penetrated the secret of Darby's disguise, and augured from the fact something to my discredit. " The game is now arranged," said he. " The spade being led here, the second player follows suit, the third having none — trump's the card, and is overtrumped by the last in play; the trick is lost, therefore, and, with it, the game." " No, no," interrupted Bubbleton, "you mistake altogether; the diamond — no, the heart; I mean the — the — what the deuce is it? I say, Cradock, I had it all correct a minute ago — how is it, old fellow?" " Why you've lost, that's all," said the other, as he looked intently on the table, and seemed to consider the point. TOM BURKE OF {t OUESi" 133 u Yes, Bubbleton, there's no doubt about it — you've lost — wo forgot all about the last player," said Hilliard. A violent knocking at the outer door drowned the voices of all within, while a gruff voice shouted out — "Captain Bubbleton, the grand round is coming up Parliament- street." Bubbleton snatched up his sword, and clashing through the room, was followed by the others in a roar of laughter. Crofts alone re- maining behind, proceeded leisurely to open the folded piece of bank paper that lay before him, while I stood opposite unable to take my eyes from him. Slowly unfolding the note, he flattened it with his hand, and then proceeded to read aloud — " Payez an porteur la .somme dc deux millc livres " "I beg pardon," interrupted I, "there's a mistake there — that belongs to me." " I thought as much," replied Crofts, with a very peculiar smile— " I scarcely supposed my friend Bubbleton had gone so far." " There's the sum, sir," said I, endeavouring to control my temper, and only eager to regain possession of what would at once have com- promised me, if discovered. " This is what Captain Bubbleton lost — twenty pounds if I mistake not." " I must entreat your pardon, sir," said Crofts, folding up the French billet de banque. " My wager was not with you, nor can I permit you to pay it. This is at present my property, and remains so until Captain Bubbleton demands it of me." I was struck dumb by the manner in which these words were spoken. It was clear to me, that not only he suspected the disguise of the ballad-singer, but that by the discovery of the French note he connected his presence with its being in my possession. Rousing my- self for the effort, I said — " You force me, sir, to speak of what nothing short of the circumstance could have induced me to allude to. It was I gave Captain Bubbleton that note. I gave it in a mistake, for this one." " I guessed as much, sir," was the cool answer of Crofts, as he placed the note in his pocket-book and clasped it ; " but I cannot permit your candid explanation to alter the determination I have already come to — even had I not the stronger motive, which as an officer in his majesty's pay I possess, to inform the government on such infallible evi- dence, how deeply interested our French neighbours are in our welfare when they supply us with a commodity, which report says is soarce enough among themselves." " Do not suppose, sir, that your threat — for as such I understand it — has any terror for me : there is, it's true, another whose safety might be compromised by any step you might take in this affair ; but when I tell you, that it is one who never did, never could have injured you, and moreover, that nothing treasonous or disloyal lies beneath your discovery " " You are really taking a vast deal of trouble, Mr. Burke," said he, stopping me with a cold smile ; " which I am forced to say is unneces- 134 OLR MKSS. sary. Your explanation of how this billet de banque came into your possession may be required elsewhere, and will, I am certain, meet with every respect and attention. As for me, an humble captain, with only one principle to sustain me, one clue to guide me in what I am disposed to consider a cpiestion of some importance, I shall certainly ask advice of others better able to direct me." " You refuse, then, sir, to restore me what I have assured you is mine?" '• And what I have no doubt whatever you are correct in calling so," added he, contemptuously. " And you persist in the refusal r" said I, in a voice which unhappily betrayed more temper than I had yet shown. •• Even so, sir," said he, moving towards the door. " In that case," said I, springing before him, and setting my back against it, " you don't leave this room until, in the presence of a third party, I care not who he be, I have told you somewhat more of my opinion of you than it is necessary I should say now." The insulting expression of Croft's features changed suddenly as I spoke, the colour left his cheek, and he became as pale as death; his eye wandered round the room with an uncertain look, and then was fixed steadfastly on the door, against which I stood firmly planted. At length his face recovered its wonted character, and he said in a cool, distinct manner — " Your difficulties have made you bold, sir." " Not more bold than you'll find me whenever you think fit to call on me ; but perhaps I am wrong for suggesting a test, which report at least says Captain Crofts has little predilection for." " Insolent cub," said he, half drawing his sword from the scabbard, and as hastily replacing it when he perceived that I never moved a muscle in my defence, but stood as if inviting his attack. " Let me pass, sir," cried he impetuously — "stand by this instant." I made no reply, but crossing my arms on my breast stared at him firmly as before; he had now advanced within a foot of me, his face, purple witli passion and his hands trembling with rage. " Let me pass I say," shouted he, in an accent that boded his passion had completely got the ascendant, at the same instant he seized me by the collar, and, fixing his grip firmly in my clothes, prepared to hurl me from the spot. The moment had now come that for some minutes past I had been expecting, and with my open hand I struck him on the cheek, but so powerfully, that he reeled back with the stroke. A yell of rage burst from him, and in an instant his sword leaped from the scabbard, and he darted fiercely at me. I sprung to one side, and the weapon pierced the door and broke off short ; still more than half the blade remained; and with this he Hew towards me. One quick glance I gave to look for something which might serve to arm me — and the same moment the sharp steel pierced my side, and I fell back- wards with the shock, carrying my antagonist along with me. The struggle vai now a dreadful one ; for while he endeavoured to withdraw the weapon from the wound, my hands were on his throat, and in his TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 135 strained eyeballs and livid colour might be seen that a few seconds more must decide the contest: a sharp pang shot through me, just then a hot gush of warm blood ran down my side, and I saw above me the shining steel, which he was gradually shortening in his hand, before he ventured to strike — a wild cry broke from me, while at the instant with a crash, the door of the room fell forward, torn from its hinges ; a heavy foot approached, and the blow of a strong arm felled Crofts to the earth, where he lay stunned and senseless. In a second I was on my feet ; my senses were reeling and uncertain, but I could see that it was Darby who came to my rescue, and who was now binding a sash round my wound to staunch the blood. " Now for it — life or death's on it now," said he, in a low, but distinct whisper ; " wipe the blood from your face, and be calm as you can when you're passing the sentry." "Is he " I dared not speak the word as I looked on the still motionless body that lay before me. Darby raised one arm, and as he let it go, it fell heavily on the ground ; he stooped down and, placing his lips near the mouth, endeavoured to ascertain if he breathed, and then jumping to his feet he seized my arm, and in a tone I shall never forget, he said — ' ; It's over now." I tottered back as he spoke ; the horrible thought of murder — the frightful sense of crime — the heaviest, the blackest that can stain the heart of man — stunned me : my senses reeled, and as I looked on that corpse stretched at my feet, I would have suffered my every bone to be broken on the rack, to see one quiver of life animate its rigid members. Meanwhile, Darby was kneeling down, and seemed to search for something beside the body. " All right — come now," said he, " we must be far from this before day-break ; and it's lucky if we've the means to do it." I moved onward like one walking in a dream, when horrible images surround him, and dreadful thoughts are ever crowding fast ; but where, amid all, some glimmering sense of hope sustains him, and he half feels that the terrors will pass away, and, his soul be calm and tranquil once more. What is it ? What has happened ? was the ever rising question, as I heard Darby groping his way along the dark gallery, and the darker stairs. " Be steady now," said he, in a whisper, " we're at the gate." " Who comes there ?" cried the sentry. " A friend," said Darby, in a feigned voice, answering for me, while he dropped behind me. The heavy bolts were withdrawn, and I felt the cold air of the streets on my cheek. " Where to, now ?" said I, with a dreamy consciousness that some place of safety must be sought, without well knowing why or wherefore. " Lean on me, and don't speak," said Darby. " If you can walk as far as the end of the Quay we're all safe." I walked on without fur- ther questioning, and almost without thought ; and though, from time to time, Darby spoke to several persons as Ave passed, I heard not what they said, nor took any notice of them. 136 OUR MESS. CHAPTER XX. THE FLIGHT. " Are ye getting weak?" said Darby, as I staggered heavily against him. and gasped twice or thrice for breath. " Are ye bleeding still?" was his next question, while he passed his hand gently within the sash, and felt my wound. I endeavoured to mutter something in reply, to which lie paid no attention — but, stooping down, he threw me across his shoulder, and darting off at a more rapid pace than before, he left the more frequented thoroughfare, and entered a narrow and gloomy alley, unlighted by a single lamp. As he hurried onward he stopped more than once, as in quest of some particular spot, but which in the darkness he was unable to detect. " Oh ! Holy Mother !" he mut- tered, " the blood is soaking through me ! Master Tom, dear — Master Tom, my darlin', speak to me — speak to me, acushla !" But though I heard each word distinctly, I could not utter one — a dreamy stupor was over me, and I only wished to be left quiet. " This must be it — ay, here it is," said Darby, as he laid me gently down on the stone sill of the door, and knocked loudly with his knuckles. The sum- mons, though repeated three, or four times, was unheeded — and although he knocked loudly enough to have alarmed the neighbour- hood, and called out at the top of his voice, no one came — and the only sounds we could hear were the distant cadences of a drinking song, mingled with wild shouts of laughter, and still wilder cries of agony and woe. " Here they are, at last," said Darby, as he almost staved in the door with a heavy stone. " Who's there?" cried a harsh and feeble voice from within. •• 'Tis ine, Molly — 'tis Darby M'Keown. Open quick, for the love of heaven — here's a young gentleman bleedin' to death on the steps." " Ugh ! there's as good as ever he was, and going as fast too, here within," said the crone. " Ye must take him away — he wouldn't mind him now for a king's ransom." " I'll break open the door this minit," said Darby, with a horrible oath, " av ye don't open it." "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the hag. "If ye wor Darby M'Keown ye'd know well how easy that is — try it — try it, acushla ! oak timber and nails is able to bear all you'll do!" "See, now," said Darby, dropping his voice to a whisper — "see, Molly, here's five goold guineas for ye, av ye'U let us in — 'tis a man's life's on it, and one I'd give my own for twice over." " Av ye ottered me forty," replied she, " I darn't do it. Ye don't know the sorrow that's here this night. 'Tis Dan Fortescue is going. I'm coming, I'm coining," muttered she to some call from within, and TOM BURKE Or " OUKS." 137 then, without waiting to hear more, she shufHed back along the pas- sage, and left us once more alone. " There's nothing for it but this now* said Darby, as retiring a few paces, he dashed his shoulder against the door with, all his force ; but, though a powerful man, and though every window rattled and trembled M ith the tremendous shock, the strong panels withstood the stroke, and never yielded in the least. "'Tis no use, firing through the lock," said he, in a tone of despair. " Blessed Joseph, what's to be done ?" As he spoke, the light tread of a bare-footed child was heard com- ing up the lane, and the same moment a little girl approached the door, she carried a cup in her hand, and held it carefully, as if fearful of spilling its contents : as she neared the door, she seemed uncertain how to proceed, and at last, as if gaining courage, tapped twice at it with her knuckles. " Don't ye know me, Nora?" said Darby ; "don't ye know Darby the Blast?" " Ah ! Mister M'Keown, is this you ? Ah ! I'm afeard it's little use there is in coining here to-night. Mr. For fescue's dying within, and Doctor Kenagh can't leave him. I'm bringing him this to take, but " " Nora, dear," said Darby, " I've a secret for Mr. Fortescue, and must see him before he dies. Here's a crown my darlin', and don't tell any one I gave it to ye." Here he stooped down, and whispered rapidly some words in her ear. " Who's there ?" broke in the hag's voice from within. " 'Tis me, Nora," said the child boldly. " Are ye alone there — do ye see any one about the door ?" " Sorra one ; can't you let me in out of the cowld." " Come in quick, then," said the crone, as she opened the door carefully, and only wide enough to let the child pass — but the same instant Darby dashed forward his foot, and flinging the door full wide, seized me by the collar and dragged me in, after him, closing the door at once behind him. The screams of the hag, though loud and vehe- ment, were as unheeded as were Darby's own efforts to attract notice half an hour before. " Be quiet, I say — hush yer crying, or, be the sowl o' the man that's dyin', I'll dhrive a ball through ye." The sight of a pistol-barrel seemed at last to have its effect, and she contented herself with a low Mailing kind of noise, as she tottered after us along the passage. The cold air of the street, and the rest combined, had given me strength, and I was able to follow Darby, as he led the way through many a passage, and up more than one stair. " Here it is," said the child, in a whisper, as she stopped at the door of a room which lay half ajar. We halted in silence, and listened to the breathings of a man, whose short, sobbing respiration, broken by hiccup, denoted the near approach of death. " Go on," cried a deep low voice in a tone of eagerness ; " ye'll not have the cough now for some time." t38 OLE MESS. The sit-k. mau made no reply, but his hurried breathing seemed to show that he was making some unwonted effort ; at last he spoke, but in a voice so faint and husky, we could not hear the words. The other, however, appeared to listen, and, by a stray monosyllable dropped at intervals, to follow the tenor of his speech. At last the sound ceased, 1 all was still. " Go in now," said Darbv, in a whisper to the child, " I'll follow you." The little girl gently pushed the door and entered, followed by M'Keown, who, however, only advanced one foot within the room, as if doubting what reception he should meet with. By the uncertain light of a wood lire, which threw in fitful flashes its glare around, I perceived that a sick man lay on a mean-looking miserable bed in one corner of a dark room ; beside him, seated on a low stool, sat another, his head bent down to catch the low breathings which the dying man gave forth from time to time. The heavy snoring sound of others asleep directed my eyes to a distant part of the chamber, where I saw three fellows lying on the floor, partly covered by a blanket. I had barely time to see this much, when the figure beside the bed sprang forward, and in a low but menacing tone, addressed M'Keown. The last words only could I catch, as he said — • And if he wakes up he may know you still." " And if he does," said Darby, doggedly, " who cares. Isn't there as good blood as his shed for the cause ? Look here." He dragged me forward as he spoke, and, tearing open my coat, pointed to the sash that was now saturated with the blood that flowed ;it every stir from my wound. The other looked fixedly at me for a second or two, took my hand within his, and, letting it fall heavily, he whispered a word to M'Keown, and turned away. '• S'o, no," cried Darby, violently : "by the holy mass ! ye'll not trate me that way. Sit down, Master Tom," said he, as he forced me into an old arm-chair beside the fire. " Here, take a drink of water. Come here, doctor ; come here, now, stop the bleeding ; stand by me this wonst, and by this " Here he crossed his fingers before him and looked fervently upwards ; but at this instant the sick man sprang up in his bed, and looked wildly about him. "Isn't that Darby — isn't that M'Keown there?" cried he, as he pointed with his finger. "Darby," he continued, in a low clear whisper, " Darby, see here, my boy ; you often said I'd do nothing for the can-'-. [■ this nothing?" He threw back the bed-clothes as he 5 poke, and disclosed a ghastly wound that divided his chest, exposing the cartilage of the ribs, which stood out amid the welling blood that oozed forth with every respiration he made. "Is it nothing that I up rank, and place, and fortune, the broad acres that were in my family for three centuries — all my hopes, all my prospects " • And if you did," interrupted M'Keown, hastily, "you knew what <■ ■> " "I knew what for!" repeated the sick man, as a deadly smile played upon bis livid face and curled his white lip ; " I know it now, TOM BLKhK OB ""IRS." 1 3Q at least — to leave my inheritance to a bastard — to brand my name with disgrace and dishonour — to go down to the grave a traitor, and worse still " He shuddered violently here, and though his mouth moved, no sound came forth, he sank back, worn out and exhausted. " Was he there" said Darby to the doctor, with a significant emphasis on the word — " was he there to-night ?" " He was," replied the other. "He thinks, too, he fired the shot that did it ; but, poor fellow ! he was down before that. The boys brought him oft'. That child is going fast," continued he, as his eye fell upon me. " Look to him, then, and don't be losin' time," said Darby, fiercely ; 41 look to him," he added more mildly, " and the heavens will bless ye. Here's twenty goolden guineas — it's all I saved these eight years — here they're for you, and save his life." The old man knelt down beside me, and slipping a scissors within the scarf that lay fastened to my side with clotted blood, he proceeded to open and expose the situation of my wound. A cold sick feeling — a kind of half fainting sensation followed this, and I could hear nothing of the dialogue that passed so near me. An occasional sting of pain shot through me as the dressing proceeded; but, save this, I had little consciousness of any thing. At length, like one awaking from a heavy slumber, with faculties half clouded by the dreamy past, I looked around me — all was still and motionless in the room. The doctor sat beside the sick man's bed, and Darby, his eyes rivetted on me, knelt close to my chair, and held his hand upon the bandage ' over my wound. A gentle tap here came to the door, and the child I had seen before entered noiselessly ; and, approaching the doctor, said — " The car is come, sir." The old man nodded in silence, and then turning towards Darby he whispered something in his ear. M'Keown sprung to his legs at once, his cheek flushed deeply, and his eyes sparkled with animation. " I have it, I have it!" cried he — " there never was such luck for us before." With that he drew the old man to one side, and speaking to him in a low, but rapid tone, evinced by the violence of his gesture, and the tremulous eagerness of his voice, how deeply he was interested. " True enough ! true enough !" said the old man, after a pause. " Poor Dan has but one more journey before him." " Is he able to bear it, doctor ?'' said Darby, pointing towards me with his finger ; " that's all I ask. Has he the strength in him ?" " He'll do now," replied the other gruffly : " there's little harm done him this time. Let him taste that, whenever you find him growing weak, and keep his head low, and there's no fear of him." As he spoke, he took from a cupboard in the wall a small vial, which he handed to M'Keown, who received the precious elixir with as much reverence as though it contained the very well-spring of human existence. •■And now," said Darby, <• the tesa time lust the better. It will 1 ll» OIK MKSS. soon be daylight on us. Master Tom, can you vise, acushla ? Are you able to stand up ?" I made (lie effort as well as I could, but my limbs seemed chained down, and even my arm felt like lead beside me. " Take him on your back,'' said the old man, hurriedly. " You'll stay here till sunrise. Take him down stairs on your back, and when you have him in the open air, turn him towards the wind, and keep his head low — mind that." I made another attempt to stand up, but before I could effect it, Darby's strong arms were round my waist, and I felt myself lifted on his shoulder, and borne from the room ; a muttered good-by passed between the others, and Darby began to descend the stair cautiously, while the little child went before with a candle. As the street-door was opened, I could perceive that a car and horse stood in waiting, ac- companied by two men, who — the moment they saw me — sprang for- ward to Darby's assistance, and helped to place me on the car. M-Keown was soon beside me, and supporting my head upon his shoulder, he contrived to hold me in a leaning position, giving me at the same time the full benefit of the fresh breeze, which already re- freshed and restored me. The vehicle now moved on in darkness and in silence ; at first our pace was slow, but it gradually cpuickened as we passed along the quay, for as such I recognised it by the dull sound of the river near us. The bright lamps of the greater thoroughfare soon made their appearance, and as we traversed these, I could mark that our pace slackened to a walk, and that we kept the very middle of the wide street as if to avoid observation. Gradually we emerged from this, and, as I heard by the roll of the wheels, reached the out- skirts of the town. We had not been many minutes there when the horse was put to his speed, and the car whirled along at a tremendous rate. Excepting a sense of weight and stiffness in the side, I had no pain- ful feeling from my wound, while the rapidity with which we passed through the air, imparted a sensation of drowsiness, far from unpleasant. In this state I scarcely was conscious of what passed about me. Now and then some occasional halt, some chance interruption, would mo- mentarily arouse me, and I could faintly hear the sound of voices, but of what they spoke I knew nothing. Darby frequently questioned me, but my utmost effort at reply was to press his hand. By times it would seem to me, as though all I felt were but the fancies of some sick dream, which the morning should dispel and scatter. Then I thought that we were flying from an enemy, who pressed hotly on us, and gained at every stride ; a vague shadowy sense of some horrible event ming- ling with all, and weighing heavily on my heart. As the time wore on, my senses became clearer, and I saw that we were travelling along the sea-side. The faint grey light of breaking day shed a cold gleam across the green water, which plashed with a mournful cadence on the low flat shore: I watched the waves as they bcit with a heavy sough amid the scattered weeds, where the wild cry of the curlew mingled with the sound as he skimmed along the gloomy TOM BURKE OF " OUBS." 141 water, and my heart grew heavier. There is something, I know not what, terribly in unison with our saddest thoughts in the dull plash of the sea at night — the loudest thunders of the storm, when white- erested waves rise high, and break in ten thousand eddies on the dark rocks, are not so suggestive of melancholy as the sighing moan of the midnight tide. Long-buried griefs, long-forgotten sorrows, rise up as we listen, and we feel as though that wailing cry were the funeral chant over cherished hopes and treasured aspirations. From my dark musings I was roused suddenly by Darby's voice, asking of the men who sat at the opposite side, " how the wind was?" " Westing by south," replied one, " as fair as need be, if there was enough of it — but who knows, we may have a cap-full yet, when the sun gets up." " We'll not have long to wait for that," cried the other — " see there." I lifted my eyes as he spoke, and beheld the pink stain of coming day rising above the top of a large mountain. " That's Howth," said Darby, " seizing with eagerness the proof of my returning senses. " Come, press on, as fast as you can," said one of the men, " we must catch the ebb, or we'll never do it." " Where does she lie r" said Darby, in a low whisper. " Under the cliffs, in Bolskaton bay," said the last speaker, whom I now perceived by his dress and language to be a sailor. My curiosity was now excited to the utmost to know whither we were bound, and with an effort I articulated the one word, " where ?" Darby's eyes brightened as I spoke, he pressed my hand firmly within his, but made me no reply. Attributing his silence to caution, I pressed him no further — and, indeed, already my former indifference came back on me, and I felt listless as before. " Turn off there to the right," cried the sailor to the driver, and suddenly we left the high-road, and entered a narrow by-way, which seemed to lead along the side of the mountain close to the water's edge — before we had proceeded far in this direction, a long low whistle was heard from a distance. " Stop there, stop," said the sailor, as he knelt upon the car, and replied to the signal. " Ay, all right, there they are," said he, as pointing to a little creek between the rocks below us, we saw a small row-boat with six men lying on their oars. " Can't he walk," said the sailor in a half whisper, as he stood beside the car. " Well, let's lose no more time, we'll take him down between us." " No, no," said Darby, " put him on my back, I'll do it myself." " The ground's slippier than you take it," said the other, " my way's the safest." With that, he lifted me from the car, and placing me between Darby and himself, they grasped each other's hands beneath me, and soon began a descent, which I saw would have been perfectly impracticable for one man to have accomplished with another on his back. During the time, my desire to know where they were bringing me 1 12 our Mssa. again grew stronger than ever — and as I turned to ask Darby, I perceived that the tears were coursing each other fast down his weather* beaten cheeks, while Ids lips shook and trembled like one in an ague. •■ .Mind your tooting there, my man, I say," cried the sailor, " or you'll have us over the clitf'." " Round the rock to the left there," cried a voice from below — " that's it, that's it — now you're all right ; steady there ; give me your hand." As he spoke, two men advanced from the boat, and assisted us down the sloping beach, where the wet sea- weed made every step a matter of difficulty. " Lay him in the stern there — gently, lads, gently," said the voice of one who appeared the chief amongst them — "that's it, throw those jackets under his head. I say, piper, ar'n't you coming with us?" But Darby could not speak one word. A livid pallor was over his features, and the tears fell, drop by drop, upon his cheek. " Master Tom," said he, at length, as his lips almost touched me- — " my child, my heart's blood, you won't forget poor Darby. Ye'll be a great man yet — ye'll be all I wish ye : but will ye remember a poor man like me ?" "Jump ashore there, my good fellow," cried the cockswain— " we'll have enough to do to round the point before the tide ebbs." " One minit more, and God love ye for it," said Darby, in a voice of imploring accent — "who knows will we ever meet again. 'Tis the last time, maybe, I'll ever look on him." I could but press his hand to my heart ; for my agitation increased the debility I felt, and every effort to speak was in vain. " One half minit more — if it's only that he'll be able to say, ' God bless you, Darby,' and I'll be happy." " Push off, my lads," shouted the sailor, sternly ; and as he spoke the oars plushed heavily in the sea, and the boat rocked over with the impulse. Twice the strong stroke of the oars sent the craft through the clear water, when the piper clasped his arm wildly around me, and kissing me on the cheek, he sprang over the side. The waves were nearly to his shoulders ; but in a few seconds he had buffeted through them, and stood upon the shore. With a last effort I waved my hand in adieu ; and as I sank back exhausted, I heard a wild cry burst from him, half in triumph, half in despair. One glance more I caught of his figure as we stood out to sea ; he was kneeling on the beach, bare- headed, and as if in prayer. The tears gushed from my eyes as I beheld him, and the long pent-up sorrow at last broke forth, and I sobbed like a child. " Come, come, my lad, don't feel down-hearted," said the sailor, laving his hand on my shoulder. " The world can scarce have been over rough to one so young as you are. Lift up your head and see what a glorious morning we've got ; and there comes the breeze over the water. We hadn't such weather the last time we made this trip, I arc you." I looked up suddenly, and truly never did such a scene of loveliness TOM lU'RKE OF "OURS." 143 meet my eyes. The sun had risen in all his glorious brilliancy, and poured a flood of golden light across the bay, tipping with a violet hue the far-oil" peaks of the Wick low mountains, and lighting up the wooded valleys at their feet. Close above us rose the rugged sides of Howth in dark shadow, the frowning rocks and gloomy caverns con- trasting with the glittering tints of the opposite coast, where every cottage and cliff sparkled in the dancing sunlight. As we rounded the point, a cheer broke from the men, and was answered at once. I turned my head, and saw beneath the tall cliffs the taper spars of a small vessel, from which the sails hung listlessly, half brailed to the mast. " There she lies," said the skipper — " that's the ' Saucy Sal,' my master ; and if you're any judge of a craft, I think you'll like her. Give way, lads, give way ; when that rock yonder's covered, the tide is at the flood." The boat sprang to the strong jerk of their brawny arms, and in a few minutes glided into the little creek where the " Saucy Sal" lay at anchor. Lifting me up, they placed me on board the little vessel, while, without losing a moment, they proceeded to ship the anchor and shake out the canvas. In less than five minutes the white sails bent to the breeze ; the water rustled at the prow, and we stood out to sea. " Where to ?" said I in a faint whisper to the sailor who held the tiller beside me. " Down channel, sir." " And then ?" asked I once more ; " and then ?" " That must depend on the revenue cruisers, I believe," said he more gruffly, and evidently indisposed to further questioning. Alas, I had too little interest in life to care for where, and laying my head upon my arm fell into a heavy stupor for several hours. The hot sun, the breeze, the unaccustomed motion, and worse than all the copious libations of brandy and water I was forced from time to time to take, gradually brought on fever, and before evening a burning thirst and throbbing headache seized me, and my senses, that hitherto had been but lethargic, became painfully acute, and my reason began to wander. In this state I remained for days, totally unconscious of the flight of time ; frightful images of the past pursuing each other through my heated brain, and torturing me with horrors unspeakable. It was in one of my violent paroxysms I tore the bandage from my side, and re-opening my half-healed wound became in a moment deluged with blood. I have no memory of aught that followed ; the debility of almost death itself succeeded, and I lay without sense or motion. To this circumstance I owed my life, for when I next rallied, the fever had left me, my senses were unclouded, my cheek no longer burned, nor did my temples throb, and as the sea-breeze played across my face I drank it in with ecstasy, and felt once more the glorious sensations of returning health. It was evening, the faint wind that follows sun-set scarce filled the sails as we glided along through the waveless sea ; I had been listening to the low monotonous song of one of the sailors as i 1-1 OUR MESS. he sat mending a sail beside me, when suddenly I heard a voice hail us from the water; the skipper jumped on the half-deck and immediately replied — the words I could not hear, but by the stir and movement about me I saw something unusual had occurred, and by an effort I raised my head above the bulwark and looked about me. A long low craft lay close alongside us, filled with men whose blue caps and striped shirts struck me as strange and uncommon, not less than their black belts and cutlasses with which every man was armed. After an interchange of friendly greetings with our crew, for as such they seemed, although I could not catch the words, she moved rapidly past us — " There's their flotilla, sir," said the helmsman, as he watched my eye while it wandered over the water. I crept up higher, and followed the direction of his finger. Never shall I forget that moment ; before me, scarce as it seemed a mile distant, lay a thousand boats at anchor, beneath the shadow of tall sand-hills, decorated with gay and gaudy pennons, crowded with figures whose bright colours and glittering arms shone gorgeously in the setting sun- light. The bright waves reflected the myriad tints, while they seemed to plash in unison with the rich swell of martial music that stole along the water with every freshening breeze. The shore was covered with tents, some of them surmounted with large banners that floated out gaily to the breeze ; and far as the eye could reach were hosts of armed men dotted over the wide plain beside the sea. Vast columns of infantry were there — cavalry and artillery too — their bright arms glittering and their gay plumes waving, but all still and motionless, as if spell-bound. As I looked, I could see horsemen gallop from the dense squares, and riding hurriedly to and fro. Suddenly, a blue rocket shot into the calm sky, and broke in a million glittering frag- ments over the camp ; the deep roar of a cannon boomed out, and then the music of a thousand bands swelled high and full, and in an instant the whole plain was in motion, and the turf trembled beneath the tramp of marching men. Regiment followed regiment, squadron poured after squadron, as they descended the paths towards the beach, while a long dark line wound through the glitterring mass, and marked the train of the artillery, as with caissons and ammunition-wagons they moved silently over the grassy surface. All that I had ever conceived of warlike preparation was as nothing to the gorgeous spectacle before me. The stillness of the evening air, made tremulous with the clang of trumpets and the hoarse roar of drums — the mirror-like sea, coloured with the reflection of bright banners and waving pennants — and then, the simultaneous step of the mighty army, so filled up every sense that I feared lest all might prove the mere pageant of a dream, and vanish as it came. • What a glorious sight!" cried I, at length, half wild with enthu- siasm. " Where are we?" " Where are we !'' repeated the skipper, smiling. " Look out, and you'll soon guess that. Are those very like the uniforms of King George? When did you see steel breast-plates and helmets before? Thin is France, my lad." TOM liUttKK OF "OUIIS." 1 l."> "France! France!" said I, stupified with the mere thought. " Yes, to be sure. That's the array of England, as they call it, you see yonder; they are practising the embarkation. See the red rackets ; there they go — three, four, five, six — that's the signal : in less than half an hour thirty thousand men will be ready to embark. Mark how they press on faster and faster ; and watch the cavalry, as they dismount and lead their horses down the steep : see how the boats pull in shore but, holloa there ; we shall get foul of the gun- boats — already we've run in too close. Down helm, my lad ; keep the head-land yonder on your lee." As he spoke, the light craft bent over to the breeze, and skipped freely over the blue water. Each moment wafted us farther away from the bright scene, and soon a projecting point shut out the whole, save the swell of the brass bauds as it floated on the breeze, and I might have believed it a mere delusion. " They practise that manoeuvre often enough to know it well," said the skipper : " sometimes at day-break — now at noon-day — and again, as we see, at sunset ; and no one knows at what moment the attack that seems a feint may not turn out to be real. But here we are now along- side : our voyage is ended." The anchor plashed from our bow, while a signal was made from the shore and answered by us ; and in an instant we were surrounded with boats. " Ha, Antoine !" cried a sous officer in a naval uniform, who sat on I he gunwale of a long eight-oar gig, and touched his hat in recognition of our skipper. "What news ' outre merf* what are we doing in Ireland ?" " My young friend here must tell you that," replied the skipper, laughingly, as he laid his hand on my shoulder. " Let me present him to you — Mr. Burke, Lieutenant Brevix." The lieutenant saluted me politely, and then, springing up, he jumped gaily on board of us, and shook our hands with great appear- ance of cordiality. " They'll want to see you ashore, Antoine, as soon as may be : there are despatches going off to-night for Paris, and they'll be glad to send the last accounts of the state of the channel." " Light winds and no cruisers are all I have to tell them, then," said the skipper. The lieutenant now took him aside, and they conversed for some time in a low tone, during which I occupied myself by watching the sentinels who paraded incessantly to and fro along a low wooden pier that stretched out into the sea, andformed, with apromontory at some distance, a small harbour. Their watch seemed of the most vigilant, if I might judge from the low, but continued cry which passed from mouth to mouth, of " Sentiiielle, prenez garde a vous ;" while from each boat, across the harbour, a sing-song note chanted in response the menotonous sounds " bon quart /" as each quarter of an hour stole past. These precautions against the approach of any strange craft extended, as I afterwards learned, along the entire coast from Dieppe to Ostende ; I.IF.SS, NO. XVIII VOL. II. L 14G OUR MESS. vet were they not sufficient to prevent frequent visits from the English spies, who penetrated into every quarter of the camp, and even had the hardihood to visit the theatre of the town, and express loudly their disapprobation of the performance. •• You'd better come ashore with me, sir," said the lieutenant — " Colonel Dorsenne will be glad to ask you some questions. What papers have you got ?" " None, save a few private letters," said I, somewhat confused at the question. " No matter," said he gaily. " I hear from Antoine you wish to join the service here. That wish is your best recommendation to the colonel ; he'll not trouble you for your reasons, I warrant you. Con- duct monsieur to the quartier-general," said the lieutenant to a corporal, who, with his party of four men, stood awaiting at the landing-place the arrival of any one from the boats ; and in an in- stant, the men falling to each side of me, took their way along the pier. I could mark as we went that more than once their looks were bent on me with an expression of compassion and pity, which at the time I was at a loss to explain. I knew not then that the road we were taking was that which so often led to death, and that it was only on the very day before, two Englishmen were shot for having ventured on shore without authority. The consigne of the corporal passed us through one post after another, until we reached the open plain, over which now the night was lulling fast. A lantern at some distance off marked the quarters of t he officer on duty ; and thither we directed our steps, and at last reached a small wooden hut, from within which the sounds of mirth and nvulry proceeded. The voice of the sentinel who challenged us brought an officer to the door, who, the moment Ins eyes fell on me, stepped back, and, passing his hand hurriedly across his forehead, mut- tered half inaudibly, " Another already 1" While he retired into an inner apartment, I had time to look at the singular decorations which adorned the walls of the ante-chamber : around on every side, and arranged like trophies, were grouped the weapons of different arms of the service, surmounted with some device emble- matic of their peculiar character, or sometimes the mere record of some famous battle in which they had pre-eminently distinguished themselves. Here were the long, straight swords of the cuirassier crossed above the steel breastplate, and surmounted by the heavy helmet half hid in leopard skin, and bearing the almost effaced word, " Areola," in front ; there was the short carbine of the voltigeur, over which hung the red cap and its gay gold tassel, with the em- broidered motto, " en avant," in gold letters ; the long and graceful weapon of the lancer, the curved sabre of the chasseur -d-cheval, even the axe of the pioneer was not wanting, displaying at a glance some trail of every branch of the mighty force that bore the proud desig- nation of ' : La (irande Armee" I was busily engaged inspecting these when the door opened, and an officer in full uniform appeared ; his figure was above the middle. TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 117 size, strongly and squarely built, and his bronzed features and high, bold forehead gave him a soldier-like air. " Your name sir," said he quickly, as he drew himself up before me and looked sternly in my face. " Burke, Thomas Burke." " Write it down, Auguste," said he, turning to a younger officer who stood, pen in hand, behind him. " Your rank or profession ?" " Gentilhomme" said I, not knowing that the word expressed nobility. " Ah, pardieu" cried he, as he showed his white teeth in a grin. " Produce your papers, if you have any." " I have nothing save those letters," said I, handing him those of De Meudon. Scarce had his eye glanced over them, when I saw his colour heighten and his cheek tremble. " What !" cried he, " are you the same young Irishman who is mentioned here ; the constant companion and friend of poor Charles ? He was my school-fellow : we were at Brienne together. What a mistake I was about to fall into. How did you come, and when ?" Before I could reply to any of his many questions, the naval officer I had met at the harbour entered and delivered his report. " Yes, yes ; I know it all," said Dorsenne, hurriedly throwing his eye over it. " It's all right, perfectly right, Brevix. Let Capitaine Antoine be examined at the quartier-general. I'll take care of Mon- sieur here ; and to begin — come and join us at supper." Passing his arm familiarly over my shoulder, he led me into the adjoining room, where two other officers were seated at a table co- vered with silver dishes and numerous flasks of wine. A few words sufficed for my introduction, and a few glasses of champagne placed me as thoroughly at my ease as though I had passed my life amongst them, and never heard any other conversation than the last movement of the French army, and their projects for future campaigns. " And so," said the colonel, after hearing from me a short account of the events which had induced me to turn my eyes to France — " and so you'd be a soldier — Eh Men, I see nothing better going myself. There's Davernac will tell you the same, though he has lost his arm in the service." " Out pardieu" said the officer on my right, " I am not the man to dissuade him from a career I've ever loved." " A vous mon ami," said the young officer who first addressed me on my arrival, as he held out his glass and clinked it against mine. " I hope we shall have you one of these days as our guide through the dark streets of London. The time may not be so distant as you think. Never shake your head at it." " It is not that I would mean," said I eagerly. " What, then ?" said the colonel. " You don't suppose such an expedition as ours coidd fail of success ?" " Nor that either," replied I. " I am not so presumptuous as to form an opinion on the subject." 148 OUR MESS. Diantre then, what is it?" "Simply this : that whatever fortune awaits me, I shall never be found fighting against the country under whose rule I was born. Eimland raav not — alas! she has not been — just to us: but whatever resistance I might have offered in the ranks of my countrymen, I shall never descend to in an invading army. No, no ; if France have no other war than with England — if she have not the cause of continental liberty at heart — she'll have no blood of mine shed in her service." " Sacristi," said the colonel, sipping his wine coolly, " you had better keep these same opinions of yours to yourself. There's a cer- tain little general we have at Paris, who rarely permits people to reason about the cause of the campaign. However, it is growing late now, and we'll not discuss the matter at present. Auguste, will you take Burke to your quarters ? and to-morrow I'll call on the general about his brevet for the Polytechnique." I felt now that I had spoken more warmly than was pleasing to the party ; but the sentiments I had announced were only such as in my heart I had resolved to abide by, and I was pleased that an opportunity so soon offered to display them. I was glad to find myself at rest at last ; and although events pressed on me fast and thick enough to have occupied my mind, no sooner had I laid my head on my pillow, than I fell into a sound sleep. TOM BUIIKE OF " OURS." 149 CHAPTER XXL THE " ECOLE MILITAIRE." Let me now skip over at a bound some twelve months of my life — not that they were tome without their chances and their changes, but they were such as are incidental to all boyhood — and present myself to my reader as the scholar at the " Polytechnique." What a change had the time, short as it was, worked in all my opinions ; how completely had I unlearned all the teaching of my early instructor, poor Darby ; how had I been taught to think that glory was the real element of war, and that its cause was of far less moment than its conduct. The enthusiasm which animated every corps of the French army, and was felt through every fibre of the nation, had full sway in the little world of the military school. There, every battle was known and conned over ; we called every spot of our play-ground by some name great in the history of glory ; and among ourselves we assumed the titles of the heroes who shed such lustre on their country ; and thus in all our boyish sports our talk was of the Bridge of Lodi — Areola — Puvoli — Casti- liogni — the Pyramids — Mount Thabor. While the names of Kleber, Kellerman, Massena, Dessaix, Marat, were adopted amongst us : but one name only remained unappropriated, and no one was bold enough to assume the title of him, whose victories were the boast of every tongue. If this enthusiasm was general amongst us, I felt it in all its fullest force, for it came untingedwith any other thought. To me there was neither home nor family — my days passed over in one unbroken calm ; no thought of pleasure, no hope of happiness when the fete day came round ; my every sense was wrapped up in the one great desire — to be a soldier ; to have my name known among those great men whose fame was over Europe ; to be remembered by him, whose slightest word of praise was honour itself. When should that day come for me ? ' when should I see the career open before me ? — these were my earliest waking thoughts, my last at nightfall. If the intensity of purpose, the strong current of all my hopes, formed for me an ideal and a happy world within me, yet did it lend a trait of seriousness to my manner that seemed like melancholy ; and while few knew less what it was to grieve, a certain sadness in me struck my companions, on which they often rallied me, but which I strove in vain to conquer. It was true that at certain times my loneliness and isola- tion came coldly on my heart ; when one by one I saw others claimed by their friends, and hurrying away to some happy home, where some fond sister threw her arm around a brother's neck, or some doating mother clasped her son close to her bosom, and kissed his brow, a tear would find its way down my cheek, and I would hasten to my room, 150 OUR MES9. and, locking the door, sit down alone to think, till my sad heart grew weary, or my sterner nature rose within me, and by an effort over myself, I turned to my studies and forgot all else. Meanwhile I made rapid progress ; the unbroken tenor of my thoughts gave me a decided advantage over the others, and long before the regular period arrived the day for my final examination was appointed. What a lasting impression do some passages of early life leave behind them ! Even yet, and how many years are past ! how well do I remember all the hopes and fears that stirred my heart as the day drew near; how each morning at sunrise I rose to pore over some of the books which formed the subjects of examination ; how when the grey dawn was only breaking have I bent over the pages of Vauban, and the calculations of Carnotj and with what a sinking spirit have I often found that a night si emed to have erased all the fruit of a long day's labour, and that the gain of my hard-worked intellect had escaped me ; and then again, like magic, the lost thought would come back, my brain grow clear, and all the indistinct and shadowy conceptions assume a firm and tangible reality, which I felt like power. At such times as these my spirit rose, my heart beat high, a joyous feeling throbbed in every pulse, and an exhilaration almost maddening elevated me, and there was nothing I would not have dared — no danger I would not have confronted. Such Mere the attractions of my boyish days, and such the temperament they bequeathed to my manhood. It was on the 16th of June, the anniversary of Marengo, when the drum beat to arms in the court of the Polytechnique, and soon after the scholars were seen assembling in haste from various quarters, anxious to learn if their prayer had been acceded to, which asked permission for them to visit the " Invalides," the usual indulgence on the anni- \ ersary of any great victory. As we flocked into the court we were struck by seeing an orderly dragoon standing beside the head-master, who was eagerly perusing a letter in his hands ; when he had concluded he spoke a few words to the soldier, who at once wheeled round his horse and trotted rapidly from the spot. Again the drum rolled out, and the order was given to form in line ; in an instant the command was obeyed, and we stood in silent expec- tation of the news which we perceived awaited us. Messieurs les ecoliers," he began, when stillness was restored, " thil day being the anniversary of the glorious battle of Marengo, the General Buonaparte has decreed that a review should be held of the entire school. Lieutenant-general d'Auvergne will arrive here at noon to inspect you, and on such reports as I shall give of your general con- duct, zeal, and proficiency, will recommendations be forwarded to the first consul for your promotion." A loud cheer followed this speech. The announcement far surpassed our most ardent hopes, and there was no limit to our enthusiasm; and loud rir/is in honour of General Buonaparte, d'Auvergne, and the head-master himself, were heard on all sides. irtely was the breakfast over when our preparations began. What TOM BURKE OF " OUKS." 151 ;i busy scene it was: here, were some brushing up their uniforms, po- lishing their sword-hilts, and pipeclaying their Cross-belts ; there, mighl be seen others conning over the directions of field manoeuvres, and refreshing their memory of the words of command; some, practised inarching in groups along the corridor ; others, too much excited by the prospect before them, jumped madly from place to place, shouting and singing snatches of soldier-songs ; but all were occupied. As for me, it Mas only two days before I had obtained my grade of corporal, my new uniform had only just come home, and I put it on for the first time with no inconsiderable pride, indeed I could scarce turn my eyes, as I walked, from the stripes upon my arm that denoted my rank. Long before the appointed time we were all assembled, and when the clock struck twelve and the drum beat out, not a boy was absent ; we were drawn up in three columns according to our standing, spaces being left between each to permit of our wheeling into line at the word of command. The head-master passed down our ranks, narrowly inspect- ing our equipments, and scrutinizing every detail of our costume ; but a stronger impulse than ordinary was now at work, and not the slight- est irregularity was any where detectable. Meanwhile the time passed on, and although every eye was directed to the long avenue of lime trees by which the general must arrive, nothing moved along it ; and the bright streaks of sunlight that peeped between the trees were unbroken by any passing shadow. Whispers passed along the ranks, some fearing he might have forgotten the whole appointment, others suspecting that another review elsewhere had engrossed his attention, and at last a half murmur of dissatisfaction crept through the mass, which only the presence of the chef restrained within due bounds. One o'clock struck, and yet no rider appeared ; the alley remained silent and deserted as before, the minutes now seemed like hours — weariness and lassitude appeared every where. The ranks were broken, and many wandered from their posts, and forgot all discipline. At last a cloud of dust was seen to rise at a distance, and gradually it approached the long avenue ; every eve was turned in the direction, and in an instant the stragglers re- sumed their places, and all was attention and anxiety, while every look pierced eagerly the dense cloud, to see whether it was not the long- wislied-for staff which was coming. At length the object burst upon our sight ; but what was our disappointment to see that it was only a travelling carriage with four post-horses that approached ; no appearance of a soldier was there, not one solitary dragoon — a half-uttered shout announced our dissatisfaction, for Ave at once guessed it was merely some chance visitor, or perhaps the friends of some of the scholars, who had thus excited our false hopes. The chef himself participated in our feeling, and passing down the lines lie announced, that if the general did not arrive within ten mi- nutes, he would himself dismiss us, and set us at liberty. A cheer of gratitude received this speech, and we stood patiently awaiting our liberation, when suddenly from the guard-house at the gate, the clash of arms was heard, and the roll of drums in salute, and the same in- stant the carriage we had seen rolled into the court-yard, and took up 152 OUR MESS. its station in the middle of the square. The next moment the door ■was opened and the steps lowered, and an officer in a splendid uniform assisted three ladies to alight. Before we recovered from the surprise of the proceeding, the master had approached the party, and by his air of deference and deep respect, denoted that they were no 'ordinary \isitors ; but our attention was quickly drawn from the group that now stood talking and laughing together, for already the clank of a cavalry escort was heard coming up the avenue, and we beheld the waving plumes and brilliant uniform of a general officer's staff advancing at a rapid trot. The drums now rolled out along the lines, we stood to amis — the gallant cortege turned into the court and formed in front of us. All eyes were fixed on the general himself, the perfect beau ideal of an old soldier. He sat his horse as firmly and gracefully as the youngest aid-de-camp of his suite; his long white hair dressed in queue behind, was brushed back off his high broad forehead ; his clear blue e_\ (\ mild yet resolute, glanced over our ranks, and as he bowed to the head-master, his whole gesture and bearing was worthy of the court of which once he was a brilliant member. '• I have kept my young friends waiting for me," said he, in a low but clear voice, " and it now remains for me to make the only amende in my power — a short inspection. Dorsenne, will you take the com- mand ?"' I started at the name, and looked round, and close beside stood the same officer who had so kindly received me the day 1 landed in France ; though he looked at me, however, I saw he did not remember me, and my spirits sank again, as I thought how utterly friendless and alone I was. The general was true to his word, in making the inspection as brief as possible ; he rode leisurely down the ranks, stopping from time to time to express his satisfaction, or drop some chance word of en- couragement or advice, which we caught up with eagerness and delight. Forming us into line, he ordered his aid-de-camp to put us through some of the ordinary parade manoeuvres, which we knew as thoroughly as the most disciplined troops. During all this time, the group of ladies maintained their position in front, and seemed to watcli the review with every semblance of interest. The general, too, made one of the party) and appeared from time to time to explain the intended move- ment, and direct their attention to the scene. " Let them march past in salute," said he, at length, " the poor fel- lows have had enough of it — I must not encroach on the entire holiday." A unanimous cheer was the reply to this kind speech, and we formed in sections and marched by him at a quick-step. The chef d' ecole had now approached the staff', and was making his report on the boys, when the general again interrupted him by saying — " Madame has expressed a wish to see the boys at their usual exer- < ise of the play-hour. If the request be admissible " " Certainly, mon general, of course," said he, and stepping forward, lie beckoned to one of the drummers to come near, he whispered a v. ord, and the tattoo beat out, and like magic every one sprang from TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 153 his ranks, caps were flung into the air, and vivas rung out from every quarter of the court. The sudden transition from discipline to perfect liberty added to our excitement, and we became half wild with delight. The first mad burst of pleasure over, we turned, as if by instinct, to our accustomed occupations — here Mere seen a party collecting for a drill, officers gathering and arranging their men, and sergeants assisting in the muster ; there were others, armed with spades and shovels, at work on an entrenchment, while some were driving down stockades and fixing a palisade; another set, more peaceful in their pursuits, had retired to their little gardens, and were busy with watering-pots and trowels : the section I belonged to, were the seniors of the school, and we had erected a kind of fort which it was our daily amusement to defend and attack, the leadership on either side being determined by lots. On this day the assault had fallen to my command, and I hurried hither and thither collecting my forces, and burning for the attack. We were not long in assembling, and the garrison having announced their readiness by the display of a flag from the ramparts, the assault began. I know not why nor wherefore, but on this day my spirits were unusually high ; it was one of those chance occasions when my tempe- rament, heated and glowing, had elevated me in my own esteem, and I would have given my life for some opportunity of distinguishing myself. I led my party on, then, with more than common daring, and though repulsed by the besieged, we fell back only for a moment, and returned to the assault determined to succeed ; the others, animated by the same spirit, fought as bravely, and the cheers that rose from one side was replied to by those as full of defiance from the others. Heated and excited, I turned round to order an attack of my whole force, when, to my surprise, I beheld that the general and his staff, accompanied by the ladies, had taken their places a short distance off, and were become interested spectators of the siege. This alone was wanting to stimulate my efforts to the utmost, and I now returned to the fight with tenfold impetuosity. But if this feeling animated me, it also nerved my antagonists, for their resistance rose with every moment, and as they drove us back from their walls, cheers of triumph rang out and pro- claimed the victory. Already the battle had lasted nearly an hour, and all that was obtained was a slight breach in one of the outworks, too small to be practicable for assault — in this state were matters when the sound of a cavalry escort turned every eye towards the entrance to the court-yard, where we now beheld a squadron of the landers rouge following a numerous and brilliant staff of general officers. Scarcely had they entered the gates when a loud cry rent the air, and every voice shouted, " Cest lui, e'est lid" and the next moment, " Vive Buonaparte, vive le premier consul." All that I had ever heard from poor De Meudou came rushing on my mind, and my heart swelled out till it seemed bursting my very bosom. The next instant my eye turned to the little fort, the moment was propitious, for there every cap was waving, every look bent towards him. I seized the opportunity, and pointing silently 164 oun mess. to the breach, stole forward, in a second I was beneath the grassy rampart, in another I reached the breach, the next brought me to the top, where, with a shout of victory, I called on my men to follow me ; en they came rushing, but too late, already the garrison were upon me, and overcome by numbers 1 fought alone and unsupported ; step by step they drove me to the edge of the rampart, already my foot was on the breach, when with a spring I dashed at the flag-staff and carried it with me as I fell headlong into the ditch ; in a moment I was on my . but so stunned and crushed that I fell almost immediately again; cold perspiration broke over my face and forehead, and I should have fainted but that they dashed some water over me. As I lay sick and faint I lifted my eves, and what was my amazement to see, not the little companions of the school about me, but the gorgeous uniform of statf officers, and two elegantly dressed ladies, one of whom held a cup of water in her hand and sprinkled it over my brow. I looked down upon my torn dress, and the sleeve of my coat where the marks of my rank were already half effaced, and I felt the tears start into my eyes as the remembrance of my late failure crossed my mind ; at the instant the crowd opened and a pale but handsome face, where command was tempered by a look of almost womanly softness, smiled upon me. " C'ttait bienfait, mon enfant}' said he, "tres bie/i fait, and if you have lost a coat by the struggle, why I must even see if I can't give you another to replace it. Monsieur Legrange, what is the character of this boy in the school? Is he diligent, zealous, and well conducted?" "All of the three, general," said the chef, bowing obsequiously. "Let him have his brevet; to date from to-day. Who are his friends ?" A whispered answer replied to this inquiry. " Indeed !" said the first speaker ; " reason the more we should take care of him. Monsieur," continued he, turning towards me, " to- morrow you shall have your epaulettes ; never forget how you gained them, and remember ever that every grade in the service is within the reach of a brave man who does his duty." So saying he passed on, while overcome by emotion I could not speak or move. " There* he is much better now," said a soft voice near me ; "you sei' bis colour is coming back." I looked up and there were two ladies standing beside me. The elder was tall and elegantly formed ; her figure, which in itself was most graceful, looked to its full advantage the splendour of her dress: there was an an- of stateliness in her manner, which had seemed hauteur, were it not for a look of most volent softness that played about her mouth whenever she spoke. The younger, who might in years have seemed her daughter, was in respect unlike her : she was slight anddelicately formed, her com- plexion and her black eyes, shaded by long dark fringe, bespoke the Provenc il, her features were beautifully regular, and when at rest, com- pletely Greek in their character, but each moment some chance word, some passing thought) implanted a new expression, and the ever-varying look of her Bashing eyea, and full round lips, played between a smile and that arch spirit tht itially belongs to (he fair daughters of the V :V Wa <% TOM BURKE OF " OL'BS." 1 .05 south. It was not until my fixed gaze had brought a deep blush to her cheek, that I felt how ardently I had been looking at her. "Yes, yes," said she hurriedly, "he's quite well now," and at the same moment she made a gesture of impatience to pass on. But the elder held her arm close within her own, as she whispered with some- thing of half malice — " But stay, Marie, I should like to hear his Dame. Ah !" cried she, starting in affected surprise, " how flushed you are ; there must be something in the air here, so we had better proceed," and with a soft smile and a courteous motion of her hand, she passed on. I looked after them as they went, a strange odd feeling stirred within my heart — a kind of wild joy with a mingled sense of hope too vague to catch at. I watched the drooping feather of her bonnet, and the fold of her dress as they fluttered in the wind, and when she disappeared from my sight, I could scarce believe that she was not still beside me, and that her dark eyes did not look into my very soul. But already my companions crowded about me, and amid a hundred warm congra- tulations and kind wishes I took my way back to the college. Scarcely was breakfast over the following morning, when the order arrived for my removal from the scholar quarter of the Poly technique to that occupied by the cadets. A small tri-coloured cockade, affixed to my hat, was the only emblem of my new rank ; but simple as it was, no decoration ever attracted more envy and admiration from the beholders, nor gave more pride to the wearer, than that knot of ribbon. " At number thirteen you'll find your quarters, Monsieur le each/.'' said a sergeant, as he presented me with the official order. I remember at this very hour what a thrill his military salute sent through me. It was the first acknowledgment of my grade — the first recognition that I was no longer a mere schoolboy. I had not much time granted me to indulge such sensations ; for already my schoolfellows had thronged round me, and overwhelmed me with questions and felicitations. "Ah! what a fortunate fellow — no examination to go through — has his grade given him without toiling for it — is it the cavalry, Burke? — are you a chcval? — when do you join? — where is your regiment? — shall we see you again? — won't you write to us all about t lie corps when you join them? — who is your comrade? — yes, tell us that ; who is he?" "Mafoi," said I, "I know not more than yourselves. You are all aware to what an accident I owe my promotion. Where I am destined for, or in what corps, I can't tell ; and as to my comrade " " Ah, take care he's no tyrant," said one. " Yes, yes," cried another — " show him you know what a small sword is at once." " Burke won't be trifled with," cried a third. And then followed a very chorus of voices, each detailing some atrocity committed by the cadets on their newly-joined associates. One had a friend wounded in the side the very day he joined; another knew some one who was thrown out of a window : here was an account of a delicate boy, who passed an entire night in the snow, and 156 OUR MESS. died of a chest disease three weeks after; there, a victim to intem- perance met his fate in the orgie that celebrated his promotion. This picture, I confess, did somewhat damp the ardour of my first impres- sions ; and I took leave of my old friends with not less feeling of affection, that I doubted how much kindness and good feeling I had to expect from my new ones. In this mood of mind I shook their hands for the last time, and followed the soldier who carried my baggage to tbe distant quarter of the ecolc. As I entered the large court by the richly ornamented gate, whose bronzed tracery and handsome carving dated from the time of Louis XIV., my heart swelled with conscious pride. The facade of the square, unlike the simple front of the scholar's quarters, was beautifully architectural ; massive consoles sup- ported the windows, and large armorial insignia, cut on stone, sur- mounted the different entrances : but what most captivated my spirits and engaged my attention was a large flag in the centre, from which waved the broad ensign of France, beside which a sentinel paced to and fro. Pie presented arms as I passed ; and the click of his musket, as lie stood erect, sent a thrill through me, and made my very fingers tingle with delight. " This is number thirteen, sir," said the soldier, as we arrived in front of one of the doorways ; and before I could reply the door opened, and a young officer, in the uniform of an infantry regiment, appeared. He was about to pass out, when his eye resting on the baggage the soldier had just placed beside him, he stopped suddenly, and touching his cap, asked in a polite tone — " Not Mr. Burke, is it ?" " Yes," said I, bowing in return. " Eh, mon camefade" said he, holding out his hand, "delighted to see you. Have you breakfasted? Well, you'll find all ready for you in the quarters. I shall be back soon. I'm only going to a morning drill, which won't last half an hour ; so make yourself at home, and we'll meet soon again." So saying, he once more saluted me, and passed on. Not very like what I feared, thought I, as I entered the quarters, whose look of neat- ness and comfort so pleasantly contrasted with my late abode. I had barely time to look over the prints and maps of military subjects which ornamented the walls, when my new friend made his appearance. " No parade to-day, thank heaven," said he, throwing down his cap and sabre, and lolling at full length on the little camp sofa. " Now, mon cher camerade, let us make acquaintance at once, for our time is likely to be of the shortest. My name is Tascher, an humble sous lieutenant of the twenty-first regiment of foot. As much a stranger in this land as yourself, I fancy," continued he, after a slight pause, "but very well contented to be adopted by it. After this opening he proceeded to inform me that lie was the ne- phew of Madame Buonaparte, her sister's only son, who, at his mother's death, left Guadeloupe, and came over to France, and became an il> rr of the Polytechnique. There he had remained five years, and after a severe examination obtained his brevet in an infantry corps, TOM BUBKE OF "OURS." 1 O I his uncle Buonaparte having shown him no other favour nor affection, than a severe reprimand on one occasion for some boyish freak, when all the other delinquents escaped scot free. " I am now under orders for service," said he, " but where for and when, I can't tell. But this I know, that whatever good fortune may be going a-begging, I, Lieutenant Tascher, am very like to get only the hem of the garment." There was a tone of easy and frank good-nature in all he said, which at once disposed me to like the young Creole, and we spent the whole afternoon recounting our various adventures and fortunes, and before night came on were sworn friends for life. CHAPTER XXII. TBE " TUILLERIES " IN 1803. The life of the cadet differed little from that of the schoolboy. The same routine of stud}' — the same daily round of occupation and duty were his. Until drafted to the particular corps to which he might be appointed, he only could absent himself from the college by special leave ; and the most rigid of all military discipline prevailed during the brief interval which was to fit him for the arduous life of a soldier. The evenings, however, were at our disposal : and what a pleasure it was, the fatigue of the day over, to wander forth into the city — that brilliant Paris — near which I had lived so long, and yet had seen so little of. At first, the splendour of the shops — the unceasing flow of popula- tion — the might and grandeur of the public buildings — attracted all my attention ; and when these wore oft" in novelty, I could still wander with delight through the gay gardens of the Tuilleries, and watch the sparkling fountains as they splashed in the pale moonlight, and look upon the happy children who played about them, their merry laughter ringing through the water's plash. What a fairy scene it was, to watch the groups as they passed and repassed — came, and went, and disappeared — amid those dark alleys, where the silent footstep did not mar the sounds of happy voices : and then, how have I turned from these, to throw a wistful glance towards the palace- windows, where some half-closed curtain from time to time would show the golden sparkle of a brilliant lustre, or the rich frame of a mirror — mayhap an open sash would for a moment display some 158 orit mess. fair form ; the outline only seen as she leaned on the balcony, and drank in the balmy air of the mild evening, while the soft swell of music would float from the gorgeous saloon, and, falling on my ear, set me a dreaming of pleasures my life had never known. My utter loneliness pressed deeper on me every day ; for while each of my companions had friends and relatives, among whom their evenings were passed, I was friendless and alone. The narrowness of my means — I had nothing save my pay — prevented my frequenting the theatre, or even accepting such invitations as the other cadets pressed upon me ; and thus for hours long have I sat and watched the windows of the palace, weaving to myself stories of that ideal world from which my humble fortune debarred me. It had been years since the Tuilleries exhibited any thing resembling the state that formerly prevailed in that splendid palace ; but at the period I speak of Buonaparte had just been chosen consul for life, and already the organization of his household had undergone a most con- siderable alteration. In the early years of the consulate, a confused assemblage of aid-de-camps, whose heavy gait and loud speech betokened less the court than the camp, were the only attendants on his person. He lived in the centre pavilion, as if in a tent in the midst of his army ; but now he inhabited the splendid suite of rooms to the left of the pavilion de Vhorologe, as it is called, and which stretch away towards the river. The whole service of the palace was remodelled ; and without wounding those prejudices that attached to the times of the deposed monarchy by adopting the titles of chamberlain or gentleman of the chamber, he gradually instituted the ceremonial of a court by pre- ferring to the posts about his person those whose air and manners savoured most of the higher habitudes of society, and whose families were distinguished among the noblesse of the kingdom. Duroc, the chief aid-de-camp of the general, was appointed governor of the palace, and it was said that the consul himself studied all the ancient ceremonial of the old court, and ordained that every etiquette of royalty should be resumed with the most unerring accuracy. The chamberlains were represented by prefects of the palace, and Josephine had her ladies of honour, like any princess of the blood royal. The consul, still imitating the ancient observances of the Bourbons, had his petit* levers and his grand receptions ; and if the new- created functionaries possessed little of the courteous ease and high- bred habitudes of the old court, there was in their hard-won honours — most of them promoted on the very field of battle — that which better suited the prejudices of the period, and scarcely less became the gilded saloons of the Tuilleries. Like all newly-organized societies, the machinery worked ill at first : few, if any of them, had ever seen a court; and the proud but yet respectful obedience which characterized the French gentleman in the presence of his sovereign, was converted into an obsequious and vulgar deference towards Buonaparte, equally opposite to the true type, I was foreign to the habits of the blunt soldier who proffered it. TOM BURKE Or " OUKS." ISQ But what, after all, signified these blemishes ? There was beauty — never in the brighter annals of France had more lovely women filled those gorgeous saloons ; there was genius — heroism — the highest chivalry of the great nation could scarce vie with the proud deeds of those grouped around him — the mighty one, on whom each eye was fixed ; and if, as M. Talleyrand remarked, there were those who knew not how to walk on the waxed floor of a palace, few could tread more finely the field of battle, and step with firmer foot the path that led to glory. Yet with all the first consul's pride in those whose elevation to rank and dignity was his own work, his predilections leaned daily more and more towards the high and polished circles of the Faubourg St. Germain. The courteous and easy politeness of Talleyrand, the chivalrous and courtly bearing of the Count de Narbonne, and the graceful elegance of Segun's manners, formed too striking a contrast with the soldier-like rudeness of the newly-promoted generals, not to make a profound impression on one, who could in the deepest and weightiest concerns of life take into calculation the most minute and trivial circumstances. This disparity, remarkable as it was among the men, was still more so in the ladies of the court ; few of those newly elevated having tact enough either to imitate successfully the polished usages of the old nobility, or resolution sufficient to maintain their original habits without blushing at their own want of breeding. If I have been led somewhat from the current of my own story by this digression, it is merely that I may passingly note down some of the features of the period — one of the most remarkakable in the history of modern Europe, and one which already, to the far-seeing eye of some, betokened the speedy return to these very institutions of monar- chy, to uproot which cost the best blood of France, and a revolution the most terrific the world has ever witnessed. And now, looking back on the great career of that great man, no portion of his history can perhaps present any thing to compare with the splendour of the consulate : a long succession of victories — the spoils of half Europe — glory to very satiety had intoxicated the nation — a country flourishing in every element of prosperity — social order restored — a high position amid surrounding nations — and every thing that could gratify national ambition obtained — France stood at the very pinnacle of her greatness. Even the splendour of those names who represented the various states of Europe at her court seem to attest her supremacy. The stately and polished Whitworth, con- spicuous by the elegance of his appearance and the perfection of his aristocratic bearing ; the Ilussian ambassador, Marcoff; the Chevalier Azara, the minister of Spain, the courtier of Europe ; Baron de Cetto, the Envoy of Saxony, one of the most distinguished, both by manners and ability, in the whole diplomatic circle, were among those who frequented the first consul's levees, which already, in the splendour of costume and the gorgeous display of uniform, rivalled the most sumptuous days of the monarchy. IGO OUR MESS. All the long-forgotten ceremonial of a court was restored : dinners, most splendid in all the array of pomp and grandeur, were given every week; fetes that vied with the luxurious era of Louis XIV. himself, took place frequently ; and Paris became the rendezvous for all Europe, curious to behold the rich trophies of successful wars, and mix in the delight of a capital, where pleasure reigned triumphant. The theatre presented an array of genius and talent hitherto unequalled. Talma and Mademoiselle Mars were in the very zenith of their fame, and obtained a large share of Buonaparte's favour, whose tastes were eminently dramatic. In a word, a new era had com- menced, and every class and walk, every condition of man, seemed resolved to recompense itself by the pursuit of pleasure, for the long and dark night of trouble through which it had passed. While, therefore, the court of the first consul partook of such features as those, the circle of Josephine possessed attractions totally different : there, amid her intimate friends, all the charm and fascina- tion of French society held sway ; each evening saw assembled round her the wittiest and most polished persons of the day ; the gay and spirited talkers who so pre-eminently gave the tone to Parisian society ; the handsomest women, and the most distinguished of the literateurs of |ke period, found ready access to one, whose own powers of pleasing have left an undying impression on some, who even still can recall these delightful moments. Such were, in brief, the leading features of the court then held in the Tuilleries, and such the germ of that new order of things which was so soon to burst forth upon astonished Europe, under the proud title of The Empire. TuM BURKE OF (i OURS. Hil CHAPTER XXIII. \ SURPRISE. I was sitting one evening alone in my quarters, an open volume before me, in which I persuaded myself I was reading, while my thought* were far otherwise engaged, when my comrade Tasoher suddenly entered the room, and throwing himself into a chair, exclaimed in a tone of passionate impatience — " Pardifu ! it is a fine thing to be nephew to the first man in France '." "What has happened?" said I, when I perceived that he stopped short without explaining farther. "What has happened! — enough to drive one mad. Just hear this. You know how fond I am of Paris, and how naturally I must wish to be near the Tuileries, where I have the entrl-e to my aunt's soirees. Well, there was a vacancy occurred yesterday in the huitieme hussars — a corps always stationed here or at Versailles — and as I am longing to have a cavalry grade, I waited on Madame Bonaparte to solicit her interest in my favour. She promised of course. The general was to breakfast with her, and it was all settled : she was to ask him for the promotion ; and I had not a doubt of success. In fact, if I must con- fess, I told two or three of my friends, and actually received their congratulations. It so fell out, however, that he did not come to breakfast, nor dinner either — there's no knowing that man ; but what, think you, he walked in, this evening, just as we were preparing to act a proverb Such a scene as it was, to be sure. No one expected him. Most of us were dressed up in costumes of one kind or other ; and I, Ma foi ! ridiculous enough, I suppose — I was costumed like a galley-slave. He stood for a second or two at the door with his arms folded, and his stern eyes wandering over the whole room. There was not one amongst us would not have wished himself many a mile away : even my aunt herself seemed cpute confused, and blushed, and grew pale, and blushed agan " ' Ha '.' cried he at last, in his dry, short voice. ' Pardon, ladies and gentlemen, I have made a mistake — I believed I was in the palace of the Tuileries, and I find this is the Porte St. Martin.' " < Ft done, Bonaparte,' cried my aunt, blushing, while with one of her sweetest smiles she endeavoured to bring him back to good humour. ' See how you have frightened Madame do Narbonne — she'll never be able to play the miller's wife; and Marie 'here, her tears will wash away all her rouge.' "' And this amiable gentleman — what is 1o become of him?' said MF.SS, No. XIX. — VOL. II. M 162 OUR MESS. he, interrupting her, while he laid his hand on my shoulder, and I stood trembling like a culprit beside him. " ' All, there ! — that's Tascher,' said she laughingly ; and as if happy to escape from her greater embarrassment by any means, she continued — * Your question comes indeed quite apropos. I have a request to make in li is favour: there's a vacancy in the huitihne, I think it is — eh, Edward ?' I nodded slightly, for if my life depended on it, I could not have uttered a word. ' Now, I am sure he's been sous-lieutenant long enough, and in the infantry too.' " ' Can you ride well, sir ?' said he, turning to me with a half frown on his pale face. " ' Yes, general,' replied I, with my heart almost choking me as I spoke. " ' Well, sir, you shall be employed, and in a service worthy your present tastes, if I may judge from your costume. A detachment of prisoners is to march to-morrow from this for the bagne de Brest — hold yourself in readiness to accompany the military escort. Go, sir, and report yourself to your colonel.' He waved his hand when he had finished, and how I left the room, reached the street, and found myself here, hang me if I can tell you." " And is there; no help for this ? must you really go ?" said I, com- passionating the dejected and sorrow-struck expression of the youth. '• Must I go ! Ma foi ! you know little of this dear uncle of mine, if you ask such a question. When once his mind's made up, any tiling like an attempt to argue only confirms his resolve. The best thing now is, to obey and say nothing ; for if my aunt remonstrates, I may spend my life in garrison there over the galley-slaves." A knocking at the outer door interrupted our conversation at this moment, and a corporal of the staff entered, with a despatch-bag at his waist. ' : Sous- Lieutenant Tascher," said he, touching his cap, and pre- senting a large official-looking letter to my companion, who threw it from him on the table, and turned away to hide his confusion. " Mon- sieur Burke," said the corporal, withdrawing another ominous docu- ment from his leathern pouch. " Diantre .'" cried Tascher, turning quickly about — " have I got you into a scrape as well as myself. I remember now the general asked me who was my 'comrade.'" I took the paper with a trembling hand, and tore it open. The first line was all I could read; it was a war-office official, appointing me to th'; vacant commission in the huitihne hussars. Tascher' s hand shook as he-leaned on my shoulder, and I could feel a convulsive twitching of his fingers as his agitation increased; but in a second or two he recovered his self-command, and taking my hand within both Of his, lie said, while the large tears were starling from hi-, eyes — " I'm glad it's you, Burke," and then turned away, unable to e. It was some time before I could bring myself to credit my good TOM BURKE OF " OURS." t63 fortune. Had I been free to choose, I could have desired nothing better nor more to my liking; and when I succeeded at length, then came my embarrassment at my poor friend's disappointment, which must have been still more poignant as "contrasted with my success. Tascher, however, had all the creole warmth of temperament. The first burst over, he really enjoyed the thought of my promotion ; and we sat up the entire night talking over plans for the future, and making a hundred resolves for contingencies, some of which never arose, and many, when they came, suggested remedies of their own. At daybreak my comrade's horses came to the door, and a mounted orderly attended to accompany him to the prison where the convoy were assembled. We shook hands again and again. He was leaving what had been his home for years, Paris — the gay and brilliant city, in whose pleasures he had mixed, and whose fascinations he had tasted. I was parting from one with whom I had lived in a friendship as close as can subsist between two natures essentially different — we both were sad. " Adieu, Burke," said he, as he waved his hand for the last time. " I hope you'll command the hvitirmc when next we meet." I [hurried into the quarters, which already seemed lonely and deserted, so soon does desolation throw its darkening shadow before it. The sword that had hung above the chimney crosswise on my own was gone ; the chako, too, and the pistols were missing ; the vacant chair stood opposite to mine ; and the isolation I felt became so painful, that I wandered out into the open air, glad to escape the sight of objects, every one of which only suggested how utterly alone I stood in the world, when the departure of one friend had left me companionless. No one save lie who has experienced it can form any just idea of the intense hold a career of any kind will take of the mind of him, who, without the ties of country, of kindred, and of friends, devotes all his energies in one direction. The affections that might, under other influences, have grown up — the hopes that might have flourished in the happy sphere of a home, become the springs of a more daring ambition. In proportion as he deserts other roads in life, the path he has struck out for himself semis wider and grander, and his far- seeing eye enables him to look into the long distance with a prophetic vision, where are rewards for his hard-won victories, the recompense of long years of toil. The pursuit, become a passion, gradually draws all into its vortex ; and that success which at first he believed only attain- able by some one mighty effort, seems at last to demand every energy of his life and every moment of his existence ; and as the miser would deem his ruin near, should the most trifling opportunity of gain escape him, so does the ambitious man feel that every incident in life must be made tributary to the success which is his mammon. It Mas thus I thought of the profession of arms ; my whole soul was in it ; no other wish, no other hope divided my heart ; that passion reigned there alone. How often do we find it in life, that the means become the end — that the effort we employ to reach an object takes hold upon our fancy — gains hourly on our affections, and at length usurps the HJ4 OUR MESS. place of what before had been our idol. As a boy, liberty, the bold assertion of my country's rights, stirred my heart, and made me wish to be- a soldier. As years rolled on, the warlike passion sank deeper and deeper in ray nature ; the thirst for glory grew upon me, and forgetting all save that, I longed for the time when on the battle-field I should win my way tofame and honour. In this wise were my musings, as I loitered homeward and entered my quarters, a sealed packet addressed Sous- Lieutenant Burke — how that humble title made my heart beat — lay on my table. Supposing it referred to my new appointment, I sat down to eon it over at my leisure ; but no sooner had I torn open the enve- lope than a card fell to the ground. I took it up hastily and read : — ■ " D'aprcs I'ordre de Madame Bonaparte f ai Vhonneur de vons in~ viter it uiie soiree ." What ! cried 1 aloud — we ! invite me to the palace ! There must be some mistake here ; and I turned again to the envelope, where my name was legibly written, with my grade, and the number of my new corps There could be no doubt of it, and yet was it still inexplicable ; I that was so perfectly alone, a stranger, without a friend, save among the humble ranks of the school, how came such a distinction as this to be conferred on me. I thought of Tascher ; but then we had lived months together, and such a thing had never been even alluded to. The more I reflected on it, the greater became my difficulty ; and in a maze of confusion and embarrassment I passed the day in preparation for the evening, for, as was customary at the period, the invitations for small parties were issued on the very mornings themselves. My first care was, to look after the uniform of my new corps, in which I knew I must appear. My last remaining bank-note, the sole survivor of my little stock of wealth, was before me, and I sat calculating with my- self the costly outlay of a hussar dress, the full uniform of which had not till now entered into my computation. Never was my ingenuity more sorely tried than in the endeavour to bring the outlay within the narrow limits of my little purse ; and when, at length, I would think that all had been remembered, some small but costly item would rise up against me, and disconcert all my calculations. At noon I set out to wait on my new colonel, whose quarters were in the Place Vendome. The visit was a short and not over pleasant o;ie ; a crowd of officers filled the rooms, among whom I edged my way with difficulty towards the place where Colonel Marbois was standing. He was a short, thick-set, vulgar-looking man of about fifty ; his moustache and whiskers meeting above the lip, and his bushy, black beard below, gave him the air of a pioneer, which his harsh Breton accent did not derogate from. " Ah cest vous" said he, as my name was announced : " you'll have to learn in future, sir, that officers of your rank are not received at the levees of their colonel. You hear me; report yourself to the Chef d'escfidroit, however, who will give you your orders ; and mark me, sir, let this be the last day you are seen in that uniform." A short and not very gracious nod concluded the audience, and I took my leave not the less abashed, that I could mark a kind of half TOM BURKS OK "OUKS." I60 smile on most of the faces about me as I withdrew from the crowd. Scarcely in the street, however, when my heart felt light and my step elastic. I was a sows-lieutenant of hussars, and if I did my duty what cared I for the smiles and frowns of my colonel ; and had not the General Bonaparte himself told me, " that no grade was too high for the brave man who did so." I can scarcely avoid a smile even yet as I call to mind the awe I felt on entering the splendid shop of Monsieur Crillac, the fashionable tailor of those clays, whose plate-glass windows and showy costumes formed the standing point for many a lounger around the corner of the Rue de Richelieu and the Boulevard. His saloon, as he somewhat ostentatiously called it, was a rendezvous for the idlers of a fashionable world, who spent their mornings canvassing the last gossip of the city, and devising new extravagancies in dress. The morning papers, cari- catures, prints of fashions, patterns of waistcoats, and new devices for buttons were scattered over a table, round which, in every attitude of indolence and ease, were stretched some dozen of the exquisites of the period, engaged in that species of half-ennui, half-conversation, that form a considerable part of the existence of your young men of fashion of every age and every country. Their frock-coats of light cloth, high-collared, and covered with buttons ; their bottes-a-revers reaching only mid leg, and met there by a tight pantalon collant ; their hair studiously brushed back off their foreheads, and worn long, though not in queue behind, bespoke them as the most accurate types of the mode. The appearance of a youth in the simple uniform of the Poly- technique in such a place seemed to excite universal astonishment. Such a phenomenon apparently had never been witnessed before ; and as they turned fully round to stare at me, it was clear they never deemed that any mark of rudeness could be felt by one so humble as I was. Monsieur Crillac, himself, who was sipping his glass of eau sucre with one arm leaning on the chimney-piece, never deigned to pay me other attention than a half smile, as with a voice of most pa- tronizing softness he lisped out — " What can we do for you here, monsieur ?" Apparently the answer to this question was a matter of interest to the party, who suddenly ceased talking to listen. "I wish to order a uniform," said I, summoning up all my resolution not to seem abashed. " This is a tailor's, if i nrt mistake." " Monsieur is quite correct," replied the imperturbable proprietor, whose self-satisfied smile became still more insulting, " but perhaps not exactly what you seek for. Gentlemen who wear your cloth seldom visit us."-^, " No, Crillac, interrupted one of the bystanders ; " I never heard that you advertised yourself as fashioner to the Polytechnique, or tailor in ordinary to the corps of Pompiers." " You are insolent, sir," said I, turning fiercely round upon the speaker. The words were scarce spoken, when the party sprung to their legs ; some endeavouring to restrain the temper of the young 166 OUR MESS. man addressed, others, pressing around, called on me to apologize on the spot for what I had said. M No, no ; let us have his name — his name," said three or four in a a breath. " Beauvais will take the punishment into his own hands." 11 Be advised, young gentleman ; unsay your words, and go your way," said an elder one of the party, while lie added, in a whisper, " Beaux ais has no equal in Paris with the small sword." " There is my address,'* said I, seizing a pen, and writing on a piece of paper before me. "Ha!" said Beauvais, as he threw his eye on the writing, "he has got his grade it seems — all the better that ; I half shrunk, from the ridicule of an affair with a cadet. So you are serious about this." " Sir !" said I ; all my efforts being barely enough to repress my rising passion. •• Well, well, enough about it. To-morrow morning — the Bois de Boulogne — the rapier : you understand me, I suppose." I nodded, and was about to leave the place, when I remembered that, in my confusion, I had neither asked my antagonist's name nor rank. " And you, sir," said I, " may I have the honour to learn who you are ?" " Pardieu ! my young friend," cried one of the others, " the infor- mation will not strengthen your nerves ; but if you will have it, he is the Marquis de Beauvais, and tolerably well known in that little locality where he expects to meet you to-morrow." " Till then, sir," replied I, touching my cap, as I turned into the street — not, however, before a burst of laughter rung through the party at a witticism of which I was the object, and the latter part of which only could I catch. It was Beauvais who spoke. " In which case, Crillac, another artist must take his measure." The allusion could not be mistaken, and, I confess, I did not relish it like the others. I should, I fear, have fallen very low in the estimate of my com- panions and associates, could the real state of my heart at that monunt have been laid open to them. It was, I freely own, one of great depression. But an hour ago, and life was opening before me with many a bright and cheerful hope; and now, in an instant, was my fortune clouded. Let me not be misunderstood : among the rules of the Polytechnique duelling was strictly forbidden ; and although numerous transgressions occurred, so determined was the head of the government to put down the practice, that the individuals thus erring were either reduced in rank, or their promotion stopped for a con- siderable period; while the personal displeasure of General Bonaparte rarely failed to show itself with reference to them. Now, it was clear to me thai some unknown friend, sonic secret well-wisher, had interested himself in my humble fate — that I owed my newly-acquired rank to his kindness and good offices. What then might I not be forfeiting by this unhappy rencontre ? Was it not more than likely that such an instance of misconduct, the very day of my promotion, might deter- mine the whole tenor of my future career? What misrepresentation might not gain currency about my conduct? These were sad reflec- tions indeed, and every moment but increased them. TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 167 When I reached the college, I called on one of my friends ; but not -finding him in his quarters, I wrote a few lines, begging he would come over to me the moment he returned. This done, I sat down alone, to think over my adventure, and devise, if I could, some means to prevent its publicity, or if not that, its being garbled and misstated. Hour after hour rolled past, my wandering thoughts took no note of time, and the deep-tolled bell of the Pol ytechnique struck eight, before I was aware the day was nearly over. Nine was the hour mentioned on my card of invitation : it flashed suddenly on me. What was to be done ? I had no uniform, save that of the " ecole." Such a costume in such a place would, I feared, be considered too ridiculous ; yet to absent my- self altogether was impossible. Never was I in such a dilemma. All my endeavours to rescue myself were fruitless ; and at last, worn out with the conflict of my doubts and fears, I stepped into the fiacre and set out for the palace. CHAPTER XXIV. THE " PAVILION DE FLORE." As my humble carriage slackened its pace to a walk on approaching the Place Carousel, I for the first time perceived that the open space around was thronged with equipages, moving slowly along in line towards the gate of the palace. A picquet of dragoons was drawn up at the great arclnvay, and mounted gens d'armes rode up and down to preserve order in the crowd. Before me stretched the long facade of the Tuileries, now lighted up in its entire extent. The rich hangings and costly furniture could be seen, even where I was. What a sinking sense of shame overwhelmed me as I thought of my humble position amid that mighty concourse of all that was great and illustrious in France ! — and how I shrunk within myself as I thought of the poor scholar of the Polytechnique, for such my dress proclaimed me, mixing with the most distinguished diplomates and generals of Europe. The rebuke I had met Avith from my colonel in the morning was still fresh in my recollection, and I dreaded something like a repeti t ion of it. Oh ! why had I not known that this was a grand reception ? was the ever-rising thought of my mind. My card of invitation said a soiree : even that I might have dared ; but here was a regular levee. Already I was near enough to hear the names announced at the foot of the grand staircase, where ambassadors, senators, ministers of state, 16$ OOB HESS. nml officers of the highest rank, 'succeeded each other in quick succes- sion. My carriage stood now next but two. I was near enough to see the last arrival hand his card to the huissier in waiting, and hear his title called out, " Le Ministre de la Guerre," when the person in the carriage before me cried to his coachman — " To the left — the Pavilion de Flore," and at the same moment the carriage turned from the line, and drove rapidly towards a distant wing of the palace. " Move up ! move up !" shouted a dragoon, " or are you for the soiree de Madame ?" '• Yes, yes!" said I hastily, as I heard his question. "Follow that carriage, then," said he, pointing with his sabre; and in a moment we left the dense file, and followed the sounds of the retiring wheels towards a dark corner of the palace, where a single lamp over a gate was the only light to guide us. Never shall I forget the sense of relief I felt as I lay back in the carriage, and listened to the hum and din of the vast crowd growing each moment fainter. " Thank heaven," said I, "it's no levec." Scarce half a dozen equipages stood around the door as we drove up, and a single dragoon was the guard of honour. "Whom shall I announce, sir?" said a huissier in black, whose manner was as deferential as though my appearance bespoke an am- bassador. I gave my name, and followed him up a wide stair, where the deep velvet carpet left no foot-fall audible. A large bronze can- delabra, supporting a blaze of wax-lights, diffused a light like day on every side. The doors opened before us as if by magic, and I found myself in an antechamber, where the huissier, repeating my name to another in waiting, retired. Passing through this, Ave entered a small drawing-room, in which sat two persons engaged at a chess-table, but who never looked up, or noticed us, as Ave proceeded. At last the tAvo wings of a wide folding-door Avere thrown open, and my name was announced in a Ioav but audible voice. The salon into which I now entered Avas a large and splendidly- furnished apartment, whose light, tempered by a species of abat-jour, gave a kind of soft mysterious effect to every thing about, and made even the figures, as they sat in little groups, appear something almost dramatic in their character. The conversation, too, was maintained in a half-subdued tone — a gentle murmur of voices, that, mingling with the swell of music in another and distant apartment, and the plash of a small fountain in a vase of gold-fish in the room itself, made a strange but most pleasing assemblage of sounds. Even in the momentary glance which, on entering, I threw around me, I perceived that no studied etiquette or courtly stateliness prevailed. The guests were disposed in every attitude of lounging ease and careless abandon ; and it was plain to see that all, or nearly all, about, were intimates of iii" place. \s the floor closed behind in''- I stood half uncertain bow to proceed. Unhappily, I knew little of the habitudes of the great world} and every rtep I toe k was a matter of difficulty. ''I think you will find Madame Bonaparte in that room," said a TOM BURKK OJP u OURS." 169 middle-aged and handsome man, whose mild voiee and gentle smile did much to set me at my ease ; "hut perhaps you don't know her." I muttered something I meant to he a negative, to which he imme- diately replied — " Then let me present you. There is no ceremony here, and 1 shall he your groom of the chambers — but here she is. Madame la Consulesse, this young gentleman desires to make his respects." " Ha ! our friend of the Polytechnique — Monsieur Burke, is it not ?" " Yes, madaine," said I, bowing low, and blushing deeply as I re- cognised, in the splendidly-attired and beautiful person before me, the lady who so kindly held the water to my lips the day of my accident at the school. " Why; they told me you were promoted — a hussar, I think." " Yes, madame — but — but " " You are too fond of old associations to part from them easily," said she, laughing. " Come here, Stephanie, and see a miracle of manhood, that could resist all the clinquant of a hussar, for the simple costume of the Ecole Militaire. Monsieur de Custine, this is my young friend of whom 1 told you the other day." The gentleman, the same wlio had so kindly noticed me, bowed politely . " And now I must leave you together, for I see they are teasing poor Madame Lefebvre ;" and with a smile she passed on into a small boudoir, from which the sounds of merry laughter were proceeding. " You don't know any one here ?" said Monsieur de Custine, as he motioned me to a place beside him on a sofa ; " nor is there any very remarkable person here to point out to you this evening. The first consul's levee absorhs all the celebrities — but by-and-by they will drop in to pay their respects, and you'll see them all. The handsome woman yonder with her fan before her, is Madame Beauharnois Lavalette, and the good-looking young fellow in the staff uniform is Monsieur de Melcy, a step-son of General Rapp." " And the large handsome man with the embroidered coat who passed through so hurriedly ?" " Yes, he is somebody — that's Decres, the Ministre de le Marine — he is gone to the levee ; and there, next the door, with his eyes cast down, and his hands folded, that is the Abbe Maynal, one of the most 'spirituel' men of the day ; but I suppose you'd much rather look at the beauties of the court than hear long stories about literature and politics ; and there is the gem of loveliness among them." I turned my eyes as he spoke, and close beside me, engaged in an eager conversation with an old lady, stood a young and most beautiful girl. Her long hair, through which, in the then mode, violets Mere wreathed and interwoven, descended in rich masses of curl over a neck white as marble. The corsage of her dress, which, in imitation of Greek costume, was made low, displayed her well-rounded shoulders to the greatest advantage ; and though rather below, than above the middle si/e. there was a dignity and grace in the air of her figure, and a cer- 1 TO OUR MESS. tain elegance about her slightest movements, that was most fasci- nating. • And the ' Rose cle Provence' — how is she this evening?" said my com- panion, rising suddenly, and presenting himself with a smile before her. • Ah, you here, Monsieur de Custine? we thought you had been at Nancy." The accent, the tone -of voice in which she said these few words sent a thrill through me, and as I looked again, I recognized the young lady who stood at Madame Bonaparte's side on the memorable day of my fall. Perhaps my astonishment made me start ; for she turned round towards me, and with a soft and most charming smile saluted me. "How they are laughing in that room," said she, turning towards her other companion. " Monsieur de Custine has deserted his dear friend this evening, and left her to her unassisted defence." Ma foi," replied he, " I got ill rewarded for my advocacy. It was only last week when I helped her out through one of her blunders in grammar — she called me a ' ganache' for my pains." " How very ungrateful. You that have been interpreter to her — her tutor for the entire winter — without whom, she could neither have obtained an ice, nor a glass of water." " So i*t ; but you are all ungrateful — but I think I had better go and pay my respecja to her — pray come along with me." I followed the party into a small room, fitted up like a tent, where, amid some half-dozen persons assembled arouhd, like an audience, sat a large, florid, and good-looking person — her costume of scarlet velvet turban and robe, adding to the flushed and high-coloured expression of her features. She was talking in a loud voice, and with an accent of such patois as I should much more naturally have expected in a remote faubourg, than in the gilded salons of the Tuileries. She had been relating some anecdotes of military life, which came within her own experience, and evidently amused her auditory as much by her manner, as the matter of her narrative. " Out parbleu," said she, drawing a long breath, " I was only the wife of a sergeant in the ' Gardes Francaises' in those days; but they were pleasant times, and the men one used to see were men indeed. The; not as much laced in gold, nor had not so much finery on their jackets ; but they were bold, bronzed, manly fellows. You'd not 6ee such a poor miserable little fellow as De Custine there, in a whole demi-brigade." When the laugh this speech caused, and in which her Own merry voice joined, subsided, she continued — " Where will you find now any thing like the twenty-second of the line? Pioche was in that — poor PioHu — I tied up his jaw in Egypt when it was smashed bullet. I remember, too, when the regiment came back : your husband, the general, reviewed them in the court below, and poor Pioche was quite offended at not being noticed. 'We were good friends,' quoth he, 'at Mount Thabor, but he forgets all that now : that's what comes of a rise in the world. "Le Petit Caporal" was humble enough once I warrant him, but now he can't remember me.' Well, they were ordered ; ; ii *m ,/ ' ' S -— s //-. TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 1 " 1 to march past in line, and there was Pioche, with his great (lark eyes fixed on the general, and his big black beard flowing down to his waist ; but no, he never noticed him no more than the tambour that beat the rappel. He could bear it no longer — his head was twisting with impatience and chagrin, and he sprung out of the lines, and seizing a brass gun — a ' piece de quatre' — he mounted it like a fusee to his shoulder, and marched past, calling out ' TxC — he always tu-toyed him — ' tu me rappelle maintenant if est ce pas petit ?"' No one enjoyed this little story more than Madame Bonaparte herself, who laughed for several minutes after it was over. Story after story did she pour forth in this way : most of them, however, had their merit in some personality or other, which, while recognised by the rest, had no attraction for me. There was in all she said the easy self-complacency of a kind-hearted but vulgar woman, vain of her husband, proud of his services, and perfectly indifferent to the habits and usages of a society, whose manners she gave herself no trouble to imitate, nor of whose ridicule was she in the least afraid. I sauntered from the room alone, to wander through the other apart- ments, where objects of art and curiosities of every kind were profusely scattered. The marbles of Greece and Rome, the strange carvings of Egypt, the rich vases of Sevres were there, amid cabinet pictures of the rarest and most costly kind. Those delicious landscapes of the time of Louis XV., where every charm of nature and art was conveyed upon the canvas — the cool arbours of Versailles, with their terraced promenades and hissing fountains, the subjects which Vanloo loved to paint, and which that voluptuous court loved to contemplate — the long alleys of shady green, where gay groups were strolling in the mellow softness of an autumn sunset — those proud dames whose sweep- ing garments brushed the velvet turf, and at whose sides, uncovered, walked the chivalry of France, how r did they live again in the bright pencil of Moucheron, and how did they carry one in fancy to the great davs of the monarchy. Strange place for them too: the boudoir of her, whose husband had uprooted the ancient dynasty they commemorated — had erased from the list of kings that proudest of all the royal stocks in Europe. Was it the narrow-minded glory of the usurper that loved to look upon the greatness he had humbled, that brought them there, or was it rather the well-spring of that proud hope just rising in his heart that he w r as to be successor of those great kings, wdiose history formed the annals of Europe itself? As I wandered on, captivated in every sense by the charm of what to me was a scene in fairy land, I came suddenly before a picture of Josephine, surrounded by the ladies of her court. It was by Isabey, and had all the delicate beauty and transpa- rent finish of that delightful painter. Beside it was another portrait by the same artist, and 1 started back in amazement at the resemblance. Never had colour better caught the rich tint of a southern complexion : the liquid softness of eye, the full and sparkling intelligence of ready wit and bright fancy all beamed in that lovely face. It needed not the golden letters in the frame which called it "La Rose de Provence." I sat down before it unconsciously, delighted 172 OUR MESS. that I might saze on such beauty unconstrained. The white hand leaned 7 He saw how deeply mortified the word had made me ; and putting his hand in mine, and with a voice of winning softness he added — " One who would be a friend must risk a little now and then ; as he who passes over a plank before his neighbour, will sometimes spring to try its soundness, even at the hazard of a fall. Don't mistake me, lieutenant, you have a higher mission than this. France is on the eve of a mighty change. Let us hope it may be a happy one. And now it's getting late — far later indeed than is my wont to be abroad — and so I'll wish you good night. I'll find a bed in the village. And since I have made you out here, we must meet often." There was something — I could not define what exactly — that alarmed me in the conversation of the abbe ; and lonely and solitary as I was, it was with a sense of relief I saw him take his departure. The pupil of a school where the consul's name was never men- tioned without enthusiasm and admiration, I found it strange that any one should venture to form any other estimate of him than I was used to hear ; and yet in all he said, I could but faintly trace out any thing to take amiss. That men of his cloth should feel warmly towards the exiled family was natural enough. They could have but few sympathies with the soldier's calling, and, of course, felt themselves in a very dif- ferent position now from what they once had occupied. The restora- tion of Catholicism was, I well knew, rather a political and social than a religious movement; and Bonaparte never had any, the slightest intention of replacing the church in its former position of ascendancy, but rather of using it as a state engine, and giving a stability to the new order of things, which could only be done on the foundation of prejudices and convictions, old as the nation itself. In this way the rising generation looked on the priests ; and in this way had I been taught to regard the whole class of religionists. It was then nothing wonderful if ambitious men among them, of whom D'Ervan might be one, felt somewhat indignant at the post assigned them, and did not espouse with warmth the cause of one who merely condescended to make them the tool of his intentions. " Yes, yes," said I to myself, " I have divined my friend the abbe ; and though not a very dangerous character after all, it's just as well I should be on my guard. His being in possession of the password, and his venturing to write his name in the police report, are evidences that he enjoys the favour of the prefet of police. Well, well, I'm sure I am heartily tired of such reflections. Would that the campaign were once begun — The roll of a platoon and the deep thunder of an artillery fire would soon drown the small whisperings of such miserable plottings from one's head." About a week passed over after this visit, in which, at first, I was rather better pleased that the abbe did not come again ; but as my solitude began to press more heavily on me, I felt a kind of regret at not seeing him. His lively tone in conversation, though spiced with that " moqvinr" spirit which Frenchmen nearly all assume, amused me greatly ; and little versed as I was in the world or in its ways, I saw that he knew it thoroughly. Such were my thoughts as I returned 193 OUR MESS. home one evening along the broad alley of the park, when I heard a foot coming rapidly up behind me. " I say, lieutenant," cried the voice of the very man I was thinking of, " your people are terribly on the alert to-night : they refused to let me pass, until I told them I was coming to you; and here are two worthy fellows who won't take my word for it without your corroboration."' I then perceived that two dismounted dragoons followed him at the distance of a few paces. " All right, men," said I, passing my arm beneath the abbe's, and turning again towards my quarters. " Wouldn't they take the pass- word then?'' continued I, as we walked on. " Mafoil I don't know, for I haven't got it." "How — not got it?" "Don't look so terribly frightened, my dear boy, you'll not be put under arrest or any such mishap on my account ; but the truth is, I've been away some days from home, and have not had time to write to the minister for the order ; and as I wanted to go over to St. Cloud this evening, and as this route saves me at least a league's walking, of course I availed myself of the privilege of our friendship both to rest my legs and have a little chat with you. Well, and how do you get on here now ? I hope the chateau is more hospitable to you — eh — not so? — that is most strange. But I have brought you a few books which may serve to while away the hours; and as a recompense, I'll ask you for a supper." By this time we Mere at the door of my quarters, where having ordered up the best repast my cuisine afforded, we sat down to await its appearance. Unlike the former evening, the abbe now seemed low and depressed — spoke little, and then moodily over the unsettled state of men's minds, and the rumours that pervaded Paris of some momen- tous change — men know not what. And thus by a stray phrase, a chance word, or an unfinished sentence, gave me to think that the hour was approaching for some great political convulsion. "But, lieutenant, you never told me by what accident you came first amongst us. Let me hear your story. The feeling witli which I ask is not the fruit of an impertinent curiosity. I wish sincerely to know more about one in whose- fortunes I have taken deep interest. Beauvais told me the little anecdote which made you first acquainted ; and though the event promised but little of future friendship, the circumstances have turned differently. You have not one who speaks and thinks of you more highly than he does. I left him this morning not many miles from this. And now that I think of it, he gave me a letter for you — here it is ;" so saying, he threw it carelessly on the chimney-piece, and con- tinued — " I must tell you a secret of poor Beauvais, for I know you feel interested in him. You must know, then, that our friend is desperately in love with a very beautiful cousin of his own, one of the suite of Madame Bonaparte. She's a well-known court beauty ; and if you had seen more of the Tuileries, you'd have heard of La Kose de Provence." TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 199 "I have seen her, I think," muttered I, as my cheek grew crimson, and my lips trembled. " Well," resumed the abbe, and without noticing my embarrass- ment, "this love affair, which I believe began long ago, and might have ended in marriage — for there is no disparity of rank, no want of wealth, nor any other difficulty to prevent it — has been interrupted by General Bonaparte, because, and for no other reason, mark ye, than that Beauvais' family were Bourbonists. His father was a captain of the Garde du Corps, and his grandfather a grand falconer, or something or other, with Louis XV. Now, the young marquis was well enough inclined to go with the current of events in France. The order of things once changed, he deemed it best to follow the crowd, and frequented the Tuileries like many others of his own politics — I believe you met him there — Till one morning lately he resolved to try his fortune where the game was his all: and he waited on Madame Bonaparte to ask her consent to his marriage witli his cousin — for I must tell you that she is an orphan, and in all such cases the parental right is exercised by the head of the government. Madame referred him coldly to the general, who received him more coldly still, and instead of replying to his suit, as he expected, broke out into invectives against Beauvais' friends — called them chonaus and assassins — said they never ceased to plot against his lile with his most inveterate enemies, the English — that the exiled family maintained a corps of spies in Paris, of whom he half suspected him to be one, and in a word contrived to heap more of insult on him in one quarter of an hour than, as he himself said, his whole family had endured from the days of St. Louis to the present. Beauvais from that hour absented himself from the Tuileries, and indeed almost entirely from Paris : now living with his friends in Normandy, now spending a few weeks in the south ; but at last he has determined on his course, and means to leave France for ever. I believe the object of his coming here at this moment is to see his cousin for the last time. Perhaps his note to you has some reference to it." I took the letter with a trembling hand — a fear of something unde- fined was over me — and, tearing it open, read as follows : — " Dear Friexb — The Abbe D'Ervan will deliver this into your hands, and, if you wish it, explain the reason of the request it con- tains, which is simply that you will afford me the shelter of your quarters for one day in the park at Versailles. I know the difficulty of your posi- tion; and if any other means under heaven presented itself I should not ask the favour, which, although I pledge my honour not to abuse, I shall value as the dearest a whole life's gratitude can repay. My heart tells me that you will not refuse the last wish of one you m ill never see after this meeting. I shall wait at the gate below the Trianon at eleven o'clock, on Friday night, when you can pass me through the sentries. " Yours, ever and devoted, " Henri de Beauvais," 200 otni mess. ** The thing is impossible," said I, laying down the letter on the table, and staring over at D'Ervan. " No more so, dear friend, than what you have done for me this evening, and which, I need not tell you, involves no risk whatever. Here am I now, without pass or countersign, your guest — the partaker of as good a supper, and as excellent a glass of wine as man need care for. In an hour hence — say two at most — I shall be on my way over to Sr. Cloud. Who is then, I ask you, to be the wiser? You'll not put me down in the night report — don't start — I repeat it — you can't do it ; for I had no countersign to pass through : and as the consul rectds these sheets every morning, you are not going to lose your commission for the sake of an absurd punctilio that nobody on earth will thank you for. Come, come, my worthy lieutenant, these same excellent scruples of yours savour far more of the scholar at the rigid old Polytechnique than the young officer of hussars. Help me to that ortolan there, and pass the bottle. There — a bumper of such a vintage is a good reward for so much talking." While the abbe" continued to exert himself by many a flippant remark, and many a smart anecdote, to dissipate the gloom that now fell over my spirits, I grew only more and more silent. The one false step I had taken already presented itself before me as the precedent for further wrong, and I knew not what course to take, nor how to escape from my dilemma. "I say, lieutenant," said D'Ervan, after a pause of some minutes, during which he had never ceased to regard me with a fixed, steady stare, " you are about as unlike the usual character of your country- men as one can well conceive." " How so," said I, half smiling at the remark. " All the Irishmen I have ever seen," replied he, " and I have known some scores of them, were bold, dashing, intrepid fellows, that cared nothing for an enterprise if danger had no share in it — who loved a difficulty as other men love safety — who had an instinct for where their own reckless courage would give them an advantage over all others, and took life easily, under the conviction that every day could present the circumstance where a ready wit and a stout heart could make the way to fortune. Such were the Irish I knew in the Brigade; and though not a man of the number had ever seen what they called the green island, they were as unlike English, or French, or Germans, or any other people, as — as the old court of Louis XIV. was like the guard-room style of reception that, goes on now-a-days yonder." " What you say may be just," said I coolly ; " and if I seem to have few features of that headlong spirit which is the gift of my nation, the circumstances of my boyhood could well explain, perhaps excuse them. From my earliest years I have had to struggle against ills that many men, in a long lifetime, do not meet with, li' suspicion and distrust have crept or stolen into my heart, it is from watching the conduct of those I deemed high-spirited and honourable, and seeing them weak, and vacillating, and faithless. And lastly, if every early hope that stirred my heart does but wane and pale within me, as stars TOM BURKE OF {< OUKS." 201 go out when day is near, you cannot wonder that I who stand alone here, without home or friend, should feel a thro!) of fear at aught which may tarnish a name that has as yet no memory of past services to rely upon. And if you knew how sorely such emotions war against the spirit that lives here, believe me you had never made the reproach — my punishment is enough already." " Forgive me, my dear boy, if I said any thing could wound, you for a moment," said the abbe. " This costume of mine, they say, gives a woman's privilege, and truly I believe it does something of the sex's impertinence, also. I ought to have known you better, and I do know you better by this time. And now let me press a recpiest 1 made some half an hour ago— tell me this same story of yours. I long to learn something of the little boy where I feel such affection for the man." The look of kindness and the tone of soothing interest that accom- panied these words I could not resist; so, drawing my chair close towards him, I began the narrative of my life. He listened with the most eager attention to my account of the political condition of Ire- land, questioned me closely as to my own connection with the intrigues of the period ; and when I mentioned the name of Charles de Meudon, a livid paleness overspread his features as he asked in a low hollow tone if I were with him when he died ? " Yes," replied I, " by his bed-side." " Did he ever speak to you of me ? — did he ever tell you much of his early life when in Provence?" " Yes, yes, he spoke often of those happy days in the old chateau, where his sister, on whom he doated to distraction, was his companion. Hers was a sad story too. Strange, is it not, I have never heard of her since I came to France ?" A long pause followed these words, and the abbe* leaned his head upon his hand, and seemed to be lost in thought. " She w r as in love with her cousin," I continued, " and Charles unhappily refused his consent. Unhappily I say, for he wept over his conduct on his death-bed." " Did he ?" cried the abbe, with a start, while his eye flashed fire, and his nostrils swelled and dilated like a chafed horse. " Did he do this?" " Yes, bitterly he repented it ; and although he never confessed it, I could see that he had been deceived by others, and turned from his own high-souled purpose respecting his sister. I wonder what became of Claude — he entered the church." " Ay, and lies there now," replied the abbe, sternly " Poor fellow ! is he dead, too? and so young." " Yes. He contrived to entangle himself in some Jacobite plot." " Why, he was a royalist." " So he was. It might have been another conspiracy then — some Chouan intrigue. Whatever it was the government heard of it ; he was arrested at the door of his own presbytere; the grenadiers were 202 OUR MESS. drawn up in his own garden ; and he was tried, condemned, and shot in less than an hour. The officer of the company eat the dinner that was preparing for him " '• What a destiny . and Marie de Meudon " " Hush : the name is proscribed. The De Meudons professed strong rovalist opinions, and Bonaparte would not permit her bearing her family name. She is known by that of her mother's family, except by those poor minions of the court, who endeavour with their fade affec- tation to revive the graceful pleasantries of Marie Antoinette's time, and they call her La Rose de Provence." " La Rose de Provence," cried I, springing up from my chair, " the sister of Charles !" while a thrill of ecstacy ran through my frame, followed the moment after by a cold, faint feel ; and I sank almost breathless in the chair. " Ha!" cried the abbe, leaning over me, and holding the lamp close to my face, " what >*," and then, as he resumed his place, he slowly muttered between his teeth, " I did not dream of this." Not a word was now spoken by either. The abbe sat mute and motionless, his eyes bent upon the floor, and his hands clasped before him. As for me, every emotion of hope and fear, joy and sorrow, succeeded each other in my mind ; and it was only as I thought of Beauvais once more that a gloomy despair spread itself before me, and I remembered that he loved her, and how the abbe hinted his passion was returned. " The day is breaking," said D'Ervan, as he opened the shutter and looked out ; " I must away. Well, I hope I may tell my poor friend Beauvais, that you'll not refuse his request. Charles de Meudon's sister may have a claim on jour kindness too." " If I thought that she " " You mean, that she loved him. You must take his word for that. She is not likely to make a confidant of you ; besides, he tells you it's a last meeting. You can scarcely say nay. Poor girl, he is the only one remaining to her of all her house. With his departure you are not more a stranger here, than is she in the land of her fathers." " I'll do it, I'll do it," cried I, passionately. " Let him meet me where he mentioned. I'll be there." " That's as it should be," said the abbe, grasping my hand, and pressing it fervently ; " but come, don't forget you must pass me through tlii> same cordon of yours." With a timid and shrinking heart I walked beside the abbd across the open terrace, towards the large gate, which with its bronzed and gilded tracery was already shining in the rich sunlight. " A fine-looking fellow that dragoon yonder; he's decorated, I see." <; Yes ; an old hussar of the guard." "What's he called?" " Pierre Dulong ; a name well known in his troop." u Hdlte la .'" cried the soldier, as we approached. " Your officer," said I. tom I'.unicr. of "otjrs." 203 " The word ?" " Arcole." " Pass, ' Arcole,' and good morrow." " Adieu, lieutenant — adieu, Pierre," said the abbe", as he waved his hand and passed out. I stood for a minute or two uncertain of purpose ; why, I know not. The tone of the last few words seemed uttered in something like a sneer. " What folly though !" said I to myself. " D'Ervan is a strange fellow, and it is his way." " We shall meet soon, abbe," I cried out, as he was turning the corner of the park wall. " Yes, yes, rely on it we shall meet — and soon." He kept his word. CHAPTER XXXI. LA ROSE DE PROVENCE. The one thought that dwelt in my mind the entire day was, that Marie de Rochfort was Charles de Meudon's sister. The fact once known, seemed to explain that secret power she exercised over my hopes and longings. The spell her presence threw around ever as she passed me in the park ; that strange influence with which the few words I had heard her speak still remained fast-rooted in my memory : all these did I attribute to the hold her name had taken of my heart, as I sat night after night listening to her brother's stories. And then why had I not guessed it earlier ? why had I not perceived the striking resem- blance which it now seemed impossible to overlook ? the dark eye beam- ing beneath a brow squarely chiselled like an antique cameo ; the straight nose and short up-turned lip, where a half-saucy look seemed struggling with a sweet smile ; and then the voice, was it not his own rich southern accent, tempered by her softer nature ? Yes ; I should have known her. In reflections like these I made my round of duty ; my whole heart wrapped up in this discovery. I never thought of Beauvais, or his letter. It seemed to me as though I had known her long and intimately ; she was not the Rose de Provence of the court ; the admired of the Tuileries ; the worshipped belle of Ver- sailles, but Marie de Meudon, the sister of one who loved me as a brother. There was a dark alley near the Trianon that led along the side of a little lake, where rocks and creeping plants rudely grouped together, 204 OUtt MESS. gave a half-Mild aspect to the scene. The tall beech and the drooping ash trees that grew along the bank threw their shadows far across the still water ; and here I had remarked that Mademoiselle de Meudon came frequently alone. It was a place, from its look of shade and gloom, little likely to attract the gay visitors of the court, who better loved the smoothly-shaven grass of the palace walks, or the broad terraces where bright fountains were plashing. Since I discovered that she avoided me when we met, I had never taken this path on my rounds, although leading directly to one of my outposts, but preferred rather a different and longer route. Now, however, I sought it eagerly, and as I hurried on, I dreaded lest my unwonted haste might excite sus- picion. I resolved to see and speak to her. It was her brother's wish that I should know her ; and till now I felt as though my great object in coming to France was unobtained, if I knew not her whose name wns hallowed in my memory. Poor Charles used to tell me she would be a sister to me — How my heart trembled at the thought. As I drew near I stopped to think how she might receive me ; with what feelings hear me speak of one who was the cause of all her unhappiness ; but then they said she loved Beauvais. What ! M'as poor Claude forgotten ? was all the love-dream of her first affection past ? My thoughts ran wild as different impulses struggled through them, and I could resolvo on nothing. Before me, scarcely a dozen paces and alone, she stood, looking on the calm lake, where the light in golden and green patches played, as it struggled through the dense foliage. The clattering of my sabre startled her, and without looking back, she dropped her veil and moved slowly on. " Mademoiselle de Meudon," said I, taking off my shako, and bowing deeply before her. " What ! how ! Why this name, sir ? Don't you know it's forbidden here?'' " I know it, madame ; but it is by that name alone I dare to speak to you ; it was by that I learned to know you — from one who loved you, and who did not reject my humble heart — one who, amid all the trials of hard fate, felt the hardest to be — the wrong he did his sister." " Did you speak of my brother Charles ?" said she, in a voice low and tremulous. " I did, madame. The last message his lips ever uttered was given to me, and for you. Not until last night did I know that I was every hour of the day so near to one whose name was treasured in my heart." " Oh, tell me of him — tell me of my dear Charles," cried she, as the tears ran fast down her pale cheeks. " Where was his death ? Was it among strangers that he breathed his last ? Was there one there who loved him?" LTh^re was, there was," cried I passionately, unable to say more. ^^And where was that youth that loved him so tenderly? I heard of him as one who never left his side — tending him in sickness, and watching beside him in sorrow. Was he not there?" «l * TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 205 •' 1 was ; I was. My hand held his. In my ear his last sigh was breathed" " Oh! was it you indeed who were my brother's friend?'' 6aid she, seizing my hand and pressing it to her lips. The hot tears dropped heavily on my wrist, and in my ecstacy I knew not where I was. " Oh 1" cried she passionately, " I did not think that in my loneliness such a happiness as this remained for me. I never dreamed to see and speak to one who knew and loved my own dear Charles; who could tell me of his solitary hours of exile. What hopes and fears stirred that proud heart of his; who could bring back to me in all their force again the bright hours of our happy youth, when we were all to each other ; when our childhood knew no greater bliss, than that we loved. Alas ! alas ! how short-lived was it all. He lies buried beyond the sea in the soil of the stranger, and I live on to mourn over the past, and shudder at the future ; but come, let us sit down upon this bank You must not leave me till I hear all about him. "Where did you meet first ?'' We sat down upon a grassy bench beside the stream, where I at once began the narrative of my first accpiaintance with De Meudon. At first the rush of sensation that came crowding on me made me speak with difficulty and effort. The flutter of her dress as the soft wind waved it to and fro ; the melody of her voice, and her full, languid eye, where sorrow and long-buried affection mingled their expression, sent thrilling through my heart thoughts that I dared not dwell upon. Gradually, as I proceeded, my mind recurred to my poor friend, and I warmed as I spoke of his heroic darings and his bold councils. All his high-souled ardour ; all the nobleness of his great nature ; his self- devotion and his suffering were again before me, mingled with those traits of womanly softness which only belong to those whose courage is almost fanaticism. How her dark eyes grew darker as she listened, and her parted lips and her fast-heaving bosom betrayed the agitation that she felt ; and how that proud look melted into sorrow when I told of the day when his outpouring heart recurred to home, and her — the loved one of his boyhood. Every walk in that old terraced garden ; each grassy alley, and each shady seat I knew as though I saw them. Although I did not mention Claude, nor even distantly allude to the circumstances which led to their unbappiness, I could see that her cheek became paler and paler, and that despite an increased effort to seem calm, the features moved with a slight jerking motion ; her lip trembled convulsively, and with a low, sad sigh she fell back fainting. I sprang down the bank towards the lake, and in an instant dipped mv shako in the water, and as I hastened back, she was sitting up — her eyes staring madly round her — her look wild almost to insanity, while her outstretched finger pointed to the copse of iow beech near us. " There, there ; I saw him," said she. " He was there now. Look, look." Shocked at the terrified expression of her features, and alarmed lest my story had conjured up before her disordered imagination the image of her lost brother, I spoke to her in words of encouragement. 206 OUR JVTESS. " Xo, no," replied she to my words, " I saw him ; I heard his voice, too. Let us leave this. Bring me to the Trianon ; and " The terri- fied and eager look she threw around at each word did not admit of longer parley, and I drew her arm within mine to lead her forward. " This is no fancy, as you deem it," said she, in a low and broken tone, to which an accent of bitterness lent a terrible power, " nor could the grave give up before me one so full of terror to my heart as him I saw there." Her head sank heavily as she uttered this, and notwithstanding every effort I made, she spoke no more, nor would give me any answer to my questions regarding the cause of her fears. As we walked for- ward] -we heard the sound of voices, which she at once recognised as belonging to the court party, and pressing my hand slightly, she motioned me to leave her. I pressed the pale finger to my lips, and darted away. My every thought bent on discovering the cause of her late fright. In an instant I was back beside the lake ; I searched every copse and every brake ; I wandered for hours through the dark woods, but nothing could I see. I stooped to examine the ground, but could not even detect the pressure of a footstep. The dried branches lay unbroken, and the leaves unpressed around, and I at last became con- vinced that an excited brain, and a minrl harassed by long sorrow, had conjured up the image she spoke of. As I approached the picquet, which was one of the most remote in my rounds, I resolved to ask the sentry had he seen any one. " Yes, lieutenant," said the soldier ; " a man passed some short time in an undress uniform ; he gave the word, and I let him proceed." " Was he old or young ?" " Middle-aged, and of your height." " Which way did he take ?" " He turned towards the left as he passed out, I lost sight of him then." I hurried immediately onward, and entered the wood by the path in the direction mentioned. My mind painfully excited by what I heard, and resolved to do every thing to probe this matter to the bottom ; but though I walked miles in every direction, I met none save a few f cra-ok-gatherers, and they had not seen any one like him I sought for. With a weary and a heavy heart I turned towards my quarters. All happiness of my morning dashed by the strange event I have re- 1 ; my night was feverish and disturbed ; for a long time I could not sleep, and when I did, wild and terrible fancies came on me, and I started up in terror. A horrible face recurred at every instant to my mind's eye; and even when awake the least noise, the slightest rustling of t lie leaves in the park agitated and excited me. At last, worn out witli the painful struggle between sleep and waking, I arose and dressed. 'I be day was breaking, and already the birds were carolling to the rising sun. I strolled out into the park. — The fresh ami bracing air of morning cooled my burning brow; the mild influences of the sweet hour when perfumes float softly in the dew-loaded breeze soothed and calmed me; and I wandered back in thought to her who already had given a charm to my existence I never knew before. The long-wished-for dream of my boyhood was realized at tast. I TOM BUHKE OF " OURS." 207 knew the sister of my friend. I sat beside her, and heard her speak to me in tones so like liis own. I was no longer the friendless alien, without one to care for — one to feel interested in his fortunes. The isolation that pressed so painfully on me, fiVd before that thought; and now I felt raised in my own esteem by those dark eyes that thanked me as I spoke of poor Charles. What a thrill that look sent through my heart. Oh, did she know the power of that glance ! Could she foresee what seeds of high ambition her very smile Mas sowing \ The round of my duty was to me devoid of all fatigue, and I returned to my quarters with a light step, and a lighter heart. The entire day I lingered about the Trianon, and near the lake, but Marie never came, nor did she appear in the walks at all. Was she ill — had the vision, whatever it was, of yesterday preyed upon her health — were my first thoughts ; and I inquired eagerly if any doctor had been seen about the chateau ; but no — nothing unusual seemed to have occurred, and a ball was to take place that very evening. I Would have given worlds, were they mine, even to know in what part of the palace she was lodged ; and fifty times did I affect to have some duty, as an excuse to cross the terrace, and steal a cautious glance towards the windows — but in vain ! So engrossed was my mind with thoughts of her, that I forgot all else. The picquets too I had not visited since day-break, and my report to the minister remained unfilled. it was late in the evening when I sallied forth to my duty, and night, -with scarce a star, was falling fast. My pre-occupation prevented my feeling the way as I walked along ; and I had already visited all the outposts except one, when a low, faint whistle, that seemed to issue from the copse near me, started me ; it was repeated after a moment, and I called out — " Who's there ? — Advance." " Ah ! I thought it was you, Burke," said a voice, I at once knew to 1 - Beauvais*. " You broke faith with me at the town-gate yonder, and so I had to conic down here." •■'■ How ? you surely were not there when I passed?" " Yes, but I was, though. Did you not see the wood-cutter with his blouse on his arm, lighting his pipe at the door of the guai d-house ?" <; Yes ; but you can't mean that it was you." " Do you remember his saying, ' Buy a cheap charette of wood, lieutenant. I'll leave it at your quarters?' " " Beauvais," said I gravely, " these risks may be fatal to us both. My orders are positive, and if I disobey them, there are no powerful friends nor high relatives to screen me from a deserving punishment." " What folly you speak, Burke. If I did not know you better I should say you grudged me the hospitality I have myself asked you for. One night to rest — and I need it much, if you knew but all — and one day to speak to Marie, and you have done with me. Is that too much ?" " No ; not if I did not betray a trust in sheltering you, far too little to speak of, much lebs thank me for ; but " '• Do spare me these scruples, and let us take the shortest way to OUR MESS." your quarters : a supper, and three chairs to sleep on, are worth all your arguments, eloquent though they be." We walked on together, almost in silence : I overwhelmed with fear for the result should my conduct ever become known ; he evi- dently chagrined at mv reception of him, and little disposed to make allowauees for scruples he Mould not have respected himself. " So here we are at last," said he, as he threw himself on my little sofa, seemingly worn out with exhaustion. I had now time to look at him by the light, and almost started back at the spectacle that pre- sented itself: las dress, which was that of the meanest peasant, was ragged and torn ; his shoes scarce held together with coarse thongs, and his beard unshaven for weeks past, increased the haggard look of features, where actual want and starvation seemed impressed. " You are surprised at my costume," said he, with a sad smile ; " and certes, Crillac would not court a customer habited as I am just now; but what will you say when I assure you that the outward man — and you will not accuse him of any voluptuous extravagance — has a very great advantage over the inner one? in plain words, lieutenant, you'd hurry your cook, if you knew 1 have not tasted food, save what the hedges afford, for two days ; not from poverty neither ; there's where- withal there to dine, even at Beauvilliers'." He rattled a well-filled purse as he spoke. " Come, come, Beauvais, you accuse me of doing the honours with a bad grace; and in truth, I wish I were your host outside the picquets ; but let nie retrieve my character a little — Taste this capon." " If you never dined with a wolf, you shall now," said he, drawing his chair to the table and filling a large goblet with burgundy. For ten or fifteen minutes he eat on like a man whom long starvation had ren- dered half savage ; then ceasing suddenly, he looked up and said — " Lieutenant, the cuisine here might tempt a more fastidious man than I am; and if these people are not hospitable enough to invite you to their soirees, they certainly do not starve you at home." " How knew you that I was not asked to the chateau ?" said I, red- dening with a sense of offended pride I could not conceal. " Know it! — Why, man, these things are known at once ; people talk of them in saloons and morning visits, and comment on them in prome- nades ; and though I seem not to have been keeping company with the In mi monde latterly, I hear what goes on there too. But trust mc, boy, if your favour stands not high with the court of to-day, you may perhaps be preparing the road to fortune with that of to-morrow." " Though you speak in riddle, Beauvais, so long as I suspect that what you mean would offer insult to those I serve, let me say, and I say it in all temper, but in all firmness, you'll find no ready listener in me. The highest favour I aspire to, is the praise of our great chief General Bonaparte, and here I pledge his health." " I'll drink no more wine to-night," said he, sulkily pushing his glass before him. Is this to be my bed?" " Of course not; mine is ready for you ; I'll rest on the sofa there ; for I shall have to visit my picquets by day-break." '• in heaven's name, for what ?" said be, with a half sneer. " What TOM BURKE OF " OUR8." 209 can that poor Savary be dreaming of? Is there any one about to steal the staircase of the Louvre, or the clock from the pavilion of the Tuileries — or is it the savans of the Institute he's afraid of losing ':" " Hail on, my good friend, you'll find it very hard to make an old scholar of the Polytechnique think poorly of the man that gains battles." " Well, well, I give up my faith in physiognomy. Do you remember that same evening in the Tuileries, when I asked your pardon, and begged to be your friend, I thought you a different fellow then from what I see you now ; that silly hussar pelisse has turned many a head before yours." " You wish to make me angry, Beauvais, and you'll not succeed. A night's rest will bring you to better temper with all the world." " Will it, faith ! in that case a tolerably large portion of it must take leave of it before morning; for I promise you, my worthy hussar, there are some I don't expect to feel so very charitably towards as you expect." " Well, well, what say you to bed?" "I'll sleep where I am," said he, with some harshness in his tone. " Good night." The words were scarcely uttered when he turned on his side, and, shading his eyes from the light with his hand, fell fast asleep. It was already past midnight, and as I was fatigued with my day's walking, I soon retired to my bed, but not to rest. Whenever I closed my eyes, Beauvais' pale and worn face seemed before me — the haggard expression of suffering and privation ; and then I fell to think- ing what enterprise of danger could involve him in such necessities as these. It must be one of peril, or he had not become what now 1 saw him : his very voice was changed ; its clear, manly tone was now harsh and dissonant ; his frank and cheerful look was downcast and suspicious. At last, worn out with thinking, I fell asleep, but was suddenly awakened by a voice shouting from the outer room. I sat up and listened. It was Beauvais, calling wildly for help ; the cry grew fainter, and soon sank into the long-drawn respiration of repose. Poor fellow ! even in his dreams his thoughts were of strife and danger. ME»«, so. XX VOL. I!, 210 OUE MESS. CHAPTER XXX. The flay was just breaking when I was up and stirring, resolving to visit the picquets before Beauvais awoke, for even still the tone of ridicule he assumed was strong before me. I passed stealthily through room where he was still sleeping: the faint light streamed through the half-closed shutters, and fell upon a face so pale, so haggard, and so worn, that I started back in horror. How altered was he, indeed, from what 1 had seen him first ! The cheek once ruddy with the flush of youth, was now pinched and drawn in; the very lips were bloodless, as if not illness alone, but long fasting from food, had pressed upon him. His hair, too, which used to fall upon his shoulders and on his neck in rich and perfumed locks, silky and delicate as a girl's, was now tangled and matted, and hung across his face and temples, wild and straggling. Even to his hands his changed condition was apparent ; for they were torn and bleeding : while in the attitude of sleep, you could trace the heavy unconscious slumber of one utterly worn out and exhausted. His dress was of the coarse stuff the peasants wear in their blouses, and even that seemed old and worn. What strange career had brought him down to this I could not think ; for poor as all seemed about him, his well-stocked purse showed that this costume was worn rather for disguise than necessity. Such was my first thought ; my second, more painfvd still, recurred to her he loved, by whom lie was, perhaps, beloved in turn. Oh! if any thing can add to the bitter smart of jealousy, it is the dreadful conviction that she for m nom our heart's best blood would How to ensure one hour of hap- piness, has placed her whole life's fortune on the veriest chance, be- stowing her love on one whose life gives no guarantee for the future — no hope, no pledge, that the world's wildest scheme of daring an 1 ambition are not dearer to his eyes than all her charms and affi How does our own deep devotioncome up before us contrasted with this ! and how. in the consciousness of higher motives and more en- nobling thoughts, do we still feel inferior to him, who, if poor in all besides, is rich in her love. Such envious feelings filled my heart as I looked on him; atid with slow, sad step 1 moved on, when by accident I came against a chair, and threw it down. The noise awoke him, and with a spring he was on his legs, and. drawing a pistol from his bosom, r;ried out — '• Ha! — what is't? Why, Burke, it's you! What hour is it?" '• Not four yet. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Beauvais; but the ;hair here " u Ym, yes, I placed it so last night. I felt so very heavy that I TOM BURKE OF "OURS." 211 could not trust myself with waking to a slight noise. Where to, so early? Ah! the-e picquets — I forgot." And with that he lay down again, and before I lei't the house, was fast asleep once more. Some trifling details of duty detained me at one or two of the out- posts, and it was beyond my usual time when I turned homeward. I had but just reached the broad alley that leads to the foot of the great terrace, when I saw a figure before me hastening onward towards the Chateau. The flutter of the dress showed it to be a woman, and then the thought flashed on me — it was Mad moiselle de Meudon. Yes, it was her step — I knew it well. She had left the palace thus early to mi et Beauvais. Without well knowing what I did, I had increased my speed, and was now rapidly overtaking her, when the noise of my foot- steps on the ground made her turn about and look back. I stopped short suddenly. An indistinct sense of something culpable on my part, in thus pursuing her, flitted across my mind, and I could not move. There she stood, too, motionless ; but for a second or two only, and then beckoned to me with her hand. I could scarcely trust my eyes, nor did I dare to stir till she had repeated the motion twice or thrice. As I drew near, I remarked that her eyes were red with weeping, and her face pale as death. For a moment she gazed steadfastly at me, and then, with a voice whose accent I can never forget, she said — " And you, too, the dearest friend of my own Charles, whose very death-bed" spoke of loyalty to him, how have you been drawn from your allegiance ?" I stood amazed and astounded, unable to utter a word in reply, wh< n she resi.m d — 1 P'or them there is reason, too. They lived, or their fathers did, in the sunshine of the old monarchy. Wealth, rank, riches, power — all were their* ; but you, who came amongst us with high hopes of greatness, where others have earned them on the field of battle — ■ whose very youth is a guarantee that base and unworthy thoughts should form no part of Ids motives, and whose high career began under the very eyes of him, the idol of every soldier's heart — oh, why turn from such a path as this, to dark and crooked ways, where low intrigue, and plot, and treachery, are better weapons than your own stout heart, and your own bright sword ?' " Hear me, I pray you," said I, bursting into impatience — "hear me but one word, and know that you accuse me wrongfully. I have no part, nor have I knowledge of any treason." " Oh, speak not thus to me. There are those who may call their acts by high-sounding titles, and say — ' We are but restoring our own so- vereigns to the land they owned ;' but you are free to think and feel. No prestige of long years blinds your reason, or obstructs your sense of right." " Once more I swear, that though I can but guess at where your suspicions point, my faith is now as true, my loyalty as firm, as when I pledged myself at your dear brother's side to be a soldier." '• Then why have you mixed yourself with their intrigues ? Why $12 OUR MESS. are you already suspected ? Why has Madame Bonaparte received orders to omit your name in all the invitations to the chateau >" " Alas ! I know not. I learn now, for the first time, that suspicion' ever attached to me." •• It is said, too — for already such things are spoken of — that you know that dreadful man, whose very presence is contamination. Oh ! does it not seem like fate, that his dark path should traverse every portion of my destiny ?" The sobs that burst from her at tnese words seemed to rend her very bosom. " Thev sav," continued she, while ner voice trembled with strontr emotion — " they Bay he has been here." " I know not of whom you speak," said I, as a cold chill ran through my blood. m Meh£e de La Touche," replied she, with an effort. " I never heard of him till now — the very name is unknown to me." " Thank God for this," muttered she between her teeth. "I thought perhaps that Beauvais had made you known to each other." " No : Beauvais never introduced me, save to some friends of his one evening at a supper, several months back ; and only one of them have I ever seen since, an Abbe D'Ervan : and indeed if I am guilty of any breach of duty, I did not think the reproach was to come from you." The bitterness of these last words was wrung from me in a moment of wounded pride. " How ! what mean you ?" said she impetuously. " No one has dared to call my fidelity into question, nor speak of me, as false to those who cherish and protect me." " You mistake my meaning," said I, sadly and slowly : then hesi- tating how far I should dare allude to Beauvais' affection, I stopped, when suddenly her face became deeply flushed, and a tesr 6tarted to her eye. " Alas, she loves him," said I to my heart, and a sickness like death passed over me. '■ Leave me — leave me quickly," cried she. " I see persons watch- ing us from the terrace:" and with that, she moved on hastily towards the chateau, and I turned into one of the narrow walks that led ior<> the wood. Two trains of thought struggled for mastery in my mind— how had I become suspected, how should I wipe out the stain upon my honour. There was not an incident of m} T life since my landing in Frartcte T did not call to mind : and yet. save in the unhappy meeting with . I could see not the sli probability that, even mah lenee could attach any thing to my reputation. From D'Ervan, it is , I heard more than one" opinions that startled me; less, however, by any thin:' direct in their meaning, than that they were totally new and 3tr;>: ad v etj the abbe* I had every reason to believe was a friend of the present government, at least it was evident he was on terms of close intimacy with Monsieur Savary. Kr.;,u\ais must dear up some of these doubts for me, thought I— . TOM BLAKE OF " OUHS." 218 he must inform me more particularly as to those to whom he intro- duced me. I shall endeavour to learn, too, something of their schemes, and thus guard myself against the mere chances of suspicion, for unquestionably he is not in ignorance of the movement, whatever it be ; and with such intentions I hurried onwards, eager to reach my quarters. As I entered my room, a low heavy sob broke on my ear ; I started back with surprise. It was Beauvais, who sat, his head buried in his hands, leaning on the table. " Ha !!' said he, springing up, and passing his hand hurriedly across his eyes — " so soon back. 1 scarcely expected you." " It is past ten o'clock — a full hour later than my usual return." "Indeed!" rejoined he, with an air of impertinent surprise. "So then your picquets have been arresting and detaining some poor devils gathering faggots or acorns ; or have you unfathomed the depth of this terrible plot your prefet of police has become insane about?" '• Neither," said I, affecting a careless tone. " The government of the consul is sufficiently strong to make men's minds easy on that score. Whatever intrigues are at work, they are as little likely to escape his keen eye, as their perpetrators are, when taken, the fire of a grenadier company." " Mai foi, sir, you speak confidently," replied he, in an accent of pride, totally different from his former tone. " And yet I have heard of persons just, as confident too, who afterwards confessed they had been mistaken. But perhaps it seems less strange to you that a sous lieutenant of artillery should rule the destinies of France, than that the king of the country should resume the throne of his ancestors." " Take care, Beauvais, with whom you speak. I warn you; and be assured I'll not be trifled with. One word more, and I put you under arrest." " Not here, surely," replied he, in a low and searching voice. " Not here. Let us walk out into the park — let it be in the great alley, or on the terrace yonder ; or better still, let the capture take place in the wood : but do not let your loyalty violate the hospitality of your home." " Forgive me, I pray. — I knew not what I said. — You tempted me sorely, though. Think but for a moment, Beauvais, how I stand here, and let your own heart judge me. I am an alien — a friendless stranger. There lives not one in all the length and breadth of France who would raise a finger, or speak one word to save me, were my head in peril. My sword and my fidelity are all my hope : that both should remain pure and unblemished is all my wish. The grade I have, I owe to him " " Great cause for gratitude, truly," he broke in. " The chief eleve of the Polytechnique is made a sous-lieutenant of cavalry, with functions of a sergeant of the gensdarmerie, with orders to stop all travellers, and search their pockets. Shame on it ! It was not thus the rightful sovereigns of France regarded those who wore their epaulettes — n-t '214 OUR MESS. thus did they esteem the soldier's part. Think, for a second, what you are, and then reflect what yon might be. Cold and unimpassioned as you call yourself, I know your heart better. There lives not one treasures a higher ambition in his breast than you. Ah! your eyes sparkle already. Think, then, I say, what a career opens before you, if you have courage to embrace it. It's a great game that enables a man to spring from sous-lieutenant to colonel of a regiment — Come, Burke, I can have no reason, save your welfare, to press these con- siderations on you. What are you writing there ?" •• A report to the prefet of police. 1 see now, however late it is, the unworthincss of the part I'\e acted, in remaining in a service where I've listened to statements such as these. 1 shall ask to have my grade withdrawn, and be reduced to the ranks; there, perhaps, I may be permitted to carry a soldier's musket without a stain upon my honour." " You can do better, sir," interrupted he, as his face grew purple with passion, and his eyes flashed fire — "far better: call up your dragoons yonder, and place me, where you threatened, under arrest ; forward your report to the minister, that Henri de Beauvais, Marquis et Pair de France, when such things were, has been taken with the ' Croix de St. Louis' and the cordon in his possession." Here he took from his bosom the decoration, and waved it above his head. " Add, too, that he came prepared to tempt your loyalty with this." He drew foriii at the words a parchment document, and dashed it on the table before me. " There, sir, read it ; it is the king's own hand-writing — your brevet of colonel to a regiment of the gardes. Such proofs of your devotion can scarcely go unrewarded. They may raise you to the rank of police spy. There is a lady yonder, too, who should also share in your elevation, as she does in. your loyal sentiments — Mademoiselle de Meudon may be too quick for you. Lose no time, sir ; such chances B6se are not the fruit of every day. After all, I can scarcely go to the guillotine under better auspices, than with my cousin and my friend as my betrayers. Mayhap, too. they'll do you the honour to make you mount guard beside the scaffold. Such an occasion to display your devotion should not escape you. David found it profitahle to catch the expiring agonies of his own friends, as with easel and brush he sat beside the guillotine. The hint should not be lost." The insulting emphasis with which he spoke the last words cut me to the very heart, and I stood speechless before him, trembling like a criminal. '• Let us part, B j," said I, at length, as I held my hand to- him. " Let us say adieu to each other, and for ever. I can forgive aH you have said to me far better than I could myself, had I listened to your persuasions. What may be honourable and just in , would he black ingratitude and dark treachery in me. I shall now endeavour to forget we have ever met, and once more — good- bye \* TOM BURKE OF " OURS. 215 " You are right," replied he, after a pause of some seconds, and in a tone of great sadness. " We never should hnve met. — Adieu !" '• One word more, Beauvais — I find that I have been suspected of some treasonable intercourse, that even here I am watched and spied upon ; tell me, I beseech you, before you go, from what quarter comes this danger, that I may guard against it." ' ; in good truth, you give me credit for quicker perceptions than I have any right to. How so loyal a gentleman should lie under such an imputation, I cannot even guess." " Your sneers shall not provoke me. The fact is as I state it ; and if you will not help me to the discovery, tell me, at least, who are the persons to whom you introduced me formerly at Beauvillier.s'r" " Very excellent company ! I trust none of them has cheated you at ecnrte. " "Pray, have done with jesting, and answer me. — Who is your abbe ?" u Ma fait He is the Abbe D'Ervan. What part of France he comes from — who are his family, friends, and resources, are all ques- tions I have never thought proper to ask him, possibly because I am not so scrupulous on the score of my acquaintances as you are. He is a very clever, amusing, witty person — knows almost every one — has the entree into every house in the Faubourg St. Germain — can compose a couplet, and sing it — make a nwyonaise or a madrigal better than any man I know — and. in fact, if he were one of these days to be a minister of France, 1 should not be so very much surprised as you appear this moment, at my not knowing more about him. As to the other, the Russian secretary, or spy, if you like the phrase better, he was un- lucky enough to have one of his couriers robbed by a party of brigands, which, scandal says, were sent out for the purpose by Monsieur de Talleyrand. His secret despatches were opened and read: and as they were found to implicate the Russian government in certain in- trigues carrying on, the czar had only one course open, which was to recall the sec. and disavow his whole proceedings — the better to evince his displeasure — I hear they have slit his nose, and sent him to pass the winter at Tobolsk. Lastly, the prefet — what shall I say of him, save that he was a prefet in the south, and wants to be one again. His greatest endeavours in any cause will be to pledge its success in Burgundy, or, if you wish, drink the downfall of its enemy ; and as to his enthusiasm, he cares a devilish deal more for a change of weather than a change of dynasty, particularly in the truffle season, or when the vines are ripening. Sueh are the truly dangerous associates you have kept company with. It now only, remains to speak of m\ humble self, whose history, I need scarcely say, is far more at your sew ice than worth the hearing. Are you satisfied f" " Quite so, as regards me ; by no means so, however, as to your fate. Short as our intimacy has been, I have seen enough of you t< know that qualities like yours should not be wasted in a math hopeless enterprise." , s of ** Who told you it was either ?" interrupted he, irapetuouslyJe sky, •J It) OIK MESS. dares to say, that the rule of a usurper is more firmly placed than the prestige of a monarchy, that goes back to Ungues Capet? Come! come '. I will not discuss these questions with you, nor have I temper now left to do so. Give me the countersign to pass the sentry, and let us part." " Not in anger, though, Beauvais." " Not in friendship, sir," replied he, proudly, as he waved back, with his, my proffered hand. " Adieu !" said he, in a softened tone, as he moved from the room, and then turning quickly round, he added — " We may meet again hereafter, and scarcely can do so on equal terms. If fortune stand by you — I must be a beggar : should I win — yours is indeed a sorry lot. When that time comes, let him with whom the world goes best, not forget the other Good-bye !" And with that he turned away, and left the house. I watched him as he strode along the silent alleys, careless and free as thuugh he had no cause for fear, till lie disappeared in the dark wood, and then I sat down at the door to think over our interview. Never had my heart felt more depressed. My own weakness in having ever admitted the intimacy of men whose dangerous design's were apparent, had totally undermined the strong principle of rectitude I should have relied upon in such a trial, and on which I could have thrown myself for support. What had I to guide me after all, save my devotion to the cause of Bonaparte himself. The prejudices of education — the leanings of family opinion — the inclinations of friends — exist not for the alien. He has to choose his allegiance — it is not born with him ; his loyalty is not the growth of a hundred different sympathies, that have twined round his heart in childhood, and grown with him to manhood, speaking of home and infancy — of his own native streams and mountains — of a land that was his father's. No! with him it is not a conviction — it is but a feeling. Such was the substance of my reverie ; and as I arose, and strolled out into the park, it was with a deeply-uttered vow to be true to him and his fortunes, whose name first lit the spark of ambition in my heart, and through v>eal or woe to devote myself to him. en TOM BURKE OF •' ULRS. ■2!V - CHAPTER XXXI. THK ' ; C II A TEAT." The same day that Beauvais left me, the court took its departure from Versailles. A sudden resolution of the consul to visit the camp at Boulogne, in which he was to be accompanied by Madame Bonaparte, was announced as the reason for this change, while a dark rumour ran, that some detected scheme for his assassination had induced his friends to advise this step. Certain it was, the preparations were made with the utmost speed, and in less than an hour after the despatch arrived from Paris the court was on its way back to the capital. It was not without a sense of sadness that 1 watched the equipages as they rolled one by one from beneath the dee}) colonnade, and traversed the wide terrace, to disappear in the recesses of the dark forest. I strained my eyes to catch even a passing look at one, who to me had made every walk and every alley a thing to love. But I could not see her; and the last roll of the retiring wheels died away in the distance without one friendly voice to say adieu — one smile at parting. Though I had not participated in the festivities of the chateau, nor even been noticed by any of the guests, the absence of its gay world, the glitter of its brilliant cortege, the neighing steeds in all their bright panoply, the clank of military music, the gorgeously-dressed ladies who strolled along its terraced walks, made the solitude that followed appear dark and desolate indeed ; and now, as I walked the park, whose avenues at noonday were silent as at midnight, the deser- tion imparted a melancholy feeling to my heart I could not explain. How often had I stopped beneath that balcony, striving to distinguish the soft tones of one gentle voice amid the buzz of conversation ! How had I watched the crowded promenade that every evening poured upon the terrace, to see one figure there among the rest ! — and when my eye had fallen upon her, how has it followed and traced her as she went ! And now I frequented each spot where I had ever seen her, pacing at sunset the very walk she used to take, dwelling on each word she ever spoke to me. The chateau, too, of which before I had not passed the door, I now revisited again and again, lingering in each room where I thought she had been, and even resting on the very chairs, and calling up before me her image as though present. Thus passed over weeks and months. The summer glided into the mellow autumn, and the autumn itself grew cold and chill, with greyish skies and sighing winds that swept the leaves along the dark walks, and moaned sadly among the tall beech trees. The still, calm waters of the little lake, that reflected the bright foliage and the deep blue sky, 218 OUR MESS. motionless as in a mirror, was now rutHed by the passing breeze, and surged with a low sad sound against its rocky sides ; and as I watched these changes, I sorrowed less for the departing season, than that every trace of her I loved was fading from before me. The bare and skeleton branches now threw their gaunt shadows where I had seen her walk at noonday, enveloped in deep shade. Dark, watery clouds were hurrying across the surface of the stream where I had seen her fair form mirrored. The cold winds of coining winter swept along the princely terrace, where not a zephyr rustled her dress as she moved; and somehow I could not help connecting these changes with my own sensations, and feeling that a gloomy winter was approaching to my own most cherished hopes. Months passed over with me thus, in which, save on my round of duty, I never spoke to any one. D'Ervan did not return as he pro- mised — a circumstance which, with all my solitude, I sincerely rejoiced at — and of Beauvais I heard nothing ; and yet, on one account, I could have wished much to learn where he was. Unhappily, in the excite- ment of the morning I last saw him, he forgot on the table at my quarters the commission of colonel, by which lie had endeavoured to tempt my ambition, and which I never noticed till several hours after his departure. Unwilling to destroy, and yet fearful of retaining it in my possession, I knew not well what to do, and had locked it up in my writing-desk, anxiously looking for an opportunity to forward it to him. None such, however, presented itself, nor did I ever hear from him from the hour he left me. The unbroken solitude in which I lived disposed me to study, and I resumed the course which, in earlier days, had afforded me s;i much interest and amusement; and by this, not only was my mind drawn off from the contemplation of the painful circumstances of my own loneli- ness, but gradually my former ardour for military distinction came back in all its force; and thus did I learn, for the first time, how many of the griefs that our brains beget, find their remedies in the source they spring from — the exercise of the intellect being like that of the body, an essential to a healthy state of thinking and feeling. Each day imparted fresh energy to me in the path I followed ; and in tl solitary hours I made those acquisitions in knowledge, which in after- life were to render me the most important services, and prepare me for the contingencies of a soldier's career. While thus engaged, time rolled over, and already the dark and gloomy month of January set in with clouded skies and nights of storm rain. Every thing wore its most cheerless aspect. — Not only were the trees leafless and bare, the roads broken up and fissured with streams of water, but the neglected Look of the chateau itself bespoke the sad and gloomy season. The dosed shutters, the closely-barred doors, the statues covered up with mats to protect them from the weather, the conservatories despoiled of all their gay habitants, betrayed that the time was past when, in the warm air of sunset, happy groups wandered hither and thither, inhaling the rich odours of the flowers, and gazing on the brilliant landscape. TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 219 It was about nine o'clock at niglit. The storm that usually began each evening at the same hour was already stirring in fitful gusts among the bare branches of the trees, or sending a sudden plash of rain ag;iinst the windows ; when, as I drew closer to my fire, and was pre- paring to enjoy myself for the evening over my book, 1 heard the regular tramping sound of a cavalry horse approaching along the terrace — the jingle of the accoutrements was a noise I could not mis- take. I arose, but before I reached the door I heard a deep voice call out — M The sous-lieutenant Burke — a despatch from Paris." I took the paper, which was sealed and folded in the most formal manner, and returning to the room opened it. The contents ran thus : — " Sous-lieutenant — On receipt of this you are" commanded to station four dragoons of your party, with a corporal, on the road leading from Chaillot to Versailles, who shall detain all persons passing that way, unable to account satisfactorily for their presence. You will also station a picquet of two dragoons at the cross-road from the Tron to St. Cloud for the like purpose. The remainder of your party to be under arms during the night, and, if requisite, at the disposal of Captain Lepelletier. Fur the execution of which, the present order will be your responsibility. (Signed) "Savary, " Colonel de Gendarmerie d' Elite. "Given at the Tuileries, January 14, 1S04." So, thought I, there is then something astir after all. These precautions all indicate minute and accurate information ; and now to perform my part. Just at that instant I perceived at my feet a small note, which apparently had fallen from the envelope as I opened it — I took it up. It was addressed — " Sous-lie ltenant Burke," with the words " in haste" written in the corner. Tearing it open at once I read the following: — " All is discovered — Pichegru arrested — Moreau at the Temple. A party have left this to capture the others at the Chateau d'Ancre ; tiit.v cannot be there before midnight: you may then yet be in time to save H. de B. who is among them. Not an instant must be lost." There was no signature to this strange epistle, but I knew at once from whom it came. Marie alone could venture on such a step to save her lover. My own determination was taken at once ; should my head be on it, I'd do her bidding. While I sent for the sergeant to give him the orders of the colonel, I directed my servant to bring round my horse to the door as lightly equipped as possible, and save the holsters, nothing of his usual accoutrements'. Meanwhile I pre- pared myself for the road by loading my pistols and fastening on my rd ; the cemmission, too, which De Beauvais left behind, I did not forget, but taking it from my desk, I placed it safely, in my bosom; J-'C OUR ME88. li. >i- was the brief billet omitted, which having read and re-read, I placed in the lining of my cap for safety. One difficulty still pre- sented itself — where was the chateau, and how in the darkness of a winter's night should I find it. I just then remembered that my troop sergeant, a sharp intelligent fellow, had been for some weeks past engaged in procuring forage about the neighbourhood for several miles round. I sent for him at once and asked him if he knew it. •Yes lieutenant, perfectly. It was an old seigneurie once; and though much dismantled, has a look of respectability still about it. I've often been there to buy corn ; but the gruff old farmer, they say, hates the military, and it's not easy to get him to deal with us at all." " What's the distance from here?" " Two leagues and a half, almost three — indeed you may count it as much, the road is so bad." " Now then for the way — describe it — be brief as you can." " You know the cross on the high road beyond Ypres." " I do. Proceed." " Passing the cross and the little shrine, go forward for a mile or something more, till you come to a small cabaret on the road side, at the end of which you'll find a ' chemin dc traverse,' a clay road, which will lead you up the fields about half a league, to a large pond, where they water the cattle, cross this and continue till you see the lights of a village to your left ; the barking of the dogs will guide you if the lights be out ; don't enter the village, but go on till you met an old gateway covered with ivy, enter there, and you are in the avenue of the chateau ; the high road is full five leagues about, but you'll easily find this way. There's a mastiff there you should be on your guard against, though you must not fire on him either ; they were going to take my life once, that I half drew a pistol from my holster against him, and I heard one of the fellows say to another, that monseigneur's dog was well worth a i bleu any day, whatever he meant by that." Very few minutes sufficed to give my orders respecting the picquet, and I was in my saddle and ready for the road ; and although my departure excited no surprise among my men, coupled as it was with the orders I had just given. I overheard the troop sergeant mutter to another as I passed out — u . Parblni, I always suspected there was something wrong about that old chateau yonder — come what weather it would, they'd never let you take shelter within the walls of it." The night was so dark, that when I turned into the road I could not even distinguish my horse's head; heavy drifts of rain, too, went I ling along, and the wind roared through the forest with a noise like, the sea in a storm. 1 now put spurs to my horse, and the animal fresh from long pam- sprang forward madly, and dashed onward. The very beating of i ■■■ raifl tl • adverse wind, .seemed to chafe his spirit, and excite his With head bent down, and hands firmly grasping the reins, I rode on, till Ihe faint glimmering of a light caught my eye at a dUmn< >. A fe iv miles brought me beside it. It was a little candle that burned in the shrift ftbOYe the image of the Virgin. Some pious, TOM BURKE OF " OURS." '221 but humble band had placed it there, regardless of the rain and storm ; uud there it now was burning secure from the rude assaults of the harsh night, and throwing its yellow light on the few cheap trinkets which village devotion had consecrated to the beloved saint. As I locked at the little altar, I thought of the perilous enterprise I was engaged in. I could have wished my heart to have yielded to the influence of a superstition, which for every moment of life seems to have its own apt consolation and succour. For, when as way-worn travellers refresh their parched lips at some road-side well, and l>k the charity that carved the little basin in the rock — so, follower^" this faith have ever and anon before their eyes some )naterial evidtncl of their church's benevolence — now arming them against the sorrows of the world — now rendering them grateful for benefits received — now taxing their selfishness by sacrifices which elevate them in their own esteem — now comforting them by examples which make them proud of their afflictions. It is this direct appeal from the human heart to the hourly consolations of religion, that forms the great stronghold of belief in Catholic countries. These thoughts were passing through my mind long after I left the little shrine behind me. So, said I, here must be the cabaret the sergeant spoke of, as I heard the sound of a voice issuing from a small house on the road side. For a second or two I hesitated whether I should not dismount, and ask the way ; but a moment's consideration satisfied me it were better to risk nothing by delay; and cautiously advancing, I heard by the sound of my horse's feet that we had left the high road, and were now on the clay path I looked for. Again I dashed onward at a gallop, my powerful horse splashing through the deep ground, or striding boldly across the heavy furrows: now breasting some steep and rugged ascent, where the torn-up way gave passage to a swollen rivulet ; now plunging down into some valley, where the darkness seemed thicker and more impenetrable still. At last I could see, far down beneath me, the twinkling light of the village, and began to deliberate with myself at what point I should turn off leftwards. Each moment the path seemed to lead me in the direction of the light, while I felt that my road led onwards straight. I drew my rein to deliberate what course I should take, when directly in front of me I thought I could detect the clank of a sabre flapping against the flank of a horse. I lowered my head on a level with my horse's mane, and could now distinctly hear the sound I suspected, and more still, the deep tones of a soldier's voice interrogating some one, who, by the patois of his answer, I guessed to be a peasant. " You are certain, then, we have not come wrong ?" said the horseman. " Ah! I know the way too Avell for that — travelling it daylight and dark since I was a boy. I was born in the village below. We shall soon reach the little wooden bridge, and then, turning to the left, beside Martin Guiehard's " "What care I for all that?" interrupted the other, roughly. " How far are we now from the chateau ? Is it still a league off?" 222 OUR MESS. u Parhleu .' — No '. nor the half of it. When you rise the hill yonder, you'll see a light ; they always have one burning in the tourelle there — and that's the chateau." u Thank, heaven for that," muttered I; "and now only let me pass them, and all's safe." The figures before me, whom I could now dimly trace in the darkness, were descending step by step a rugged and narrow path, where a tall hedge formed a wall on either side. To get before them here, therefore, was out of the question ; my only chance was by a detour through the fields to come down upon the village, and, if Kible, gain the bridge he spoke of before them. Quick as the ght, I turned from the deep road to the still deeper earth of the ploughed field beside it. My horse — a strong and powerful Norman — needed but the slightest movement of the hand to plunge hotly on. My eves bent, upon the twinkle of the i'ew lights that still marked the little hamlet, I rode fearlessly forward : now tearing madly through some low o/ier fence — now slipping in the wet and plushy soil, where each stride threatened to bring us both to the earth. The descent became soon almost precipitous; but the deep ground gave a footing - , and I never slackened my speed. At length, with a crashing sound I found that we had burst the little enclosure of some village garden, and could dimly trace the outline of a cottage at some distance in front. Dismounting now, I felt my way cautiously for the path that usually conducts at the end of the cabin to the garden : this I soon made out, and the next minute was in the street. Happily, the storm, which raged still as violently as before, suffered no one to be without doors ; and save the rare glimmer of a light, all was sunk in darkness. I walked on beside my horse for some minutes, and at last I heard the rushing sound of a swollen river, as it tore along in its narrow I and approaching step by step discovered the little bridge, which simply c I of two planks, unprotected by any railing at either With a little difficulty I succeeded in leading my horse across, and was just about to mount, when the sound of the trooper's voice fn>m the village street again reached me. A sudden thought Hashed through my mind. — Each moment might now be precious: and stooping down, I lifted the end of the plank, an I si nt it. with a crash into the stream ; the ot!,<>r soon followed it; and before I was in ray saddle again the torrent was earning them along amid the rocks of the stream. " Here is a misfortune," cried the peasant, in a tone of misery — . "the bridge has been carried away by the Hood." " Tonnerre de del! and is their no other way across," said tie dragoon, in a voice of passion. I waited not to hear more, but giving the spur to my horse, dv. up the steep bank, and the next moment saw the light of the chate for such I guessed to be a bright star that twinkled at a di •• ed now will do it, said I, and put my strong Norman to his ut- most. The wind tore past me scarce faster than I went, while the heating rain came round me. The footway soon altered, and I fo TOM BURKE OF " OUR S. 223 that we were crossing a smooth turf like a lawn. Ha ! this is the old gate, thought I, as a tall archway, overhung with ivy and closed by a strong door, opposed further progress. I beat loudly against it smith the heavy handle of my whip, but to no purpose; the bourse vejoe of the storm drowned all such sounds. I dismounted, and endeavoured to make myself heard by knocking with a large stone. 1 shouted, I cried aloud, but all in vain. My terror increa ed every instant. What was to be doner The dragoon might arrive at any moment, and then, 1 myself must share the ruin of the others. Maddened by the emergency that each moment grew more pres.-ing, I sprung into the saddle, and. following the direction of the wall, rode round to the other side of the chateau, seeking some open spot, some break whereby to enter. • I had not gone far, when I saw a portion of the wall which, broken and dilapidated, afforded the opportunity I desired. I hesitated not, but dashed wildly at it. My horse, unaccustomed to such an effort, chested the barrier, and came rolling headforemost to the earth, throwing me several yards before him. A cry of pain escaped me as I fell; and I scarcely could gain my knees to rise, when the hoarse bay of a savage dog broke upon my ear, and I heard the animal tearing through the brushwood towards me. I drew my sabre in a trice, and, scarce knowing at what side to defend myself, laid wildly about me, while I shouted with all my might for help. The furious beast sprung like a tiger at my throat, and, though wounded by a chance cut, seized me in his terrible fangs: fortunately the strong- collar of my uniform served to protect me ; but the violence of the assault carried me off my balance, and we rolled one over the other to the ground. Grasping his throat with both hands I endeavoured to strangle him, while he vainly sought to reach my face. At this critical moment my cries were heard within, and numerous lights flitted up and down in front of the chateau, and a crowd of per- sons, all armed, were quickly about me. Seizing the dog by his collar, a peasant tore him away ; while another, holding a lantern to my face, cried out in a voice of terror, " They are upon us. We are lost. '■ Pdrlih ■■-/ .' you should let Colbert finish his work — he is a 'blue:' they are but food for dogs any day." '•Not so," said another, in a low determined voice; "this is a surer weapon." I heard the cock of a pistol click as he spoke. " Halt there ! — Stop ! I say," cried a voice, in a tone of command. " I know him — I know him well. It's Burke. Is it not ?" It was De Beauvais spoke, while at the same moment he knelt down beside me on the grass, and put his arm round my neck. I whis- pered one word into his ear. He sprang to his feet, and, with a hasty direction to assist me towards the house, disappeared. Before I could reach the door he was again beside me. ' ; And you did this to save me, dear friend ?" said he, in a voice half stifled with sobs. al of the court. The vast multitude of spectators — the pomp and circumstance of a court of justice — the solemn look of the judges arrayed in their dark robes and square black caps, reminding one of the officers of the In- quisition, as we see them in old paintings ; the silence where so many were assembled — all struck me with awe, and I scarcely dared to look up, lest in the glances bent upon me I should meet some whose looks might seem to condemn me. " Proclaim the s6ean.ce," said the president. And with a loud voice the huissier of the court made proclamation that the tribunal had commenced its sitting. This concluded, the Procureur-gdneral proceeded to read the names of the accused, be- ginning with General Moreau, Armand de Polignac, Charles de Riviere, Sol de Gisolles, George Cadoudal, and some twenty others of less note, among which I heard with a sinking heart my own name pro- TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 255 nouncod. Some customary formalities seemed now to occupy the court for a considerable time ; after which the huissier called silence once more. " General Moreau," said the president, in a deep voice that was heard throughout the entire court. " Rise up, sir," added he, after a few seconds' pause. I looked down the bench, at the farthest end of which I saw the tall and well-knit figure of a man in the uniform of a general of the republic, his back was turned towards me, but his bear- ing and carriage were quite enough to distinguish the soldier. " Your name and surname," said the president. Before an answer could be returned, a dull sound, like something heavy falling, resounded through the court, and in an instant several persons around me stood up. I bent forward to see, and beheld the figure of Bouvet de Lozier stretched insensible upon the ground ; be- side himnhis faithful friend George was stooping, and endeavouring to open his vest and give him air. " Bring some water here quickly," cried the hardy Breton, in a tone that showed little respect for where he stood. " Your absurd ceremonial has frightened the poor boy out of his senses." " Respect the court, sir, or I commit you," said the president, in a voice of anger. A contemptuous look, followed by a still more contemptuous shrug of the shoulders, was his reply. " Remove the prisoner," said the president, pointing to the still fainting youth, " and proclaim silence in the court." The officers of the tribunal carried the death-like figure of the boy down the steps, and bore him to some of the chambers near. This little incident, slight and passing as it was, seemed much to affect the auditory, and it was some time before perfect silence could be again restored. "So much for the regime of the Temple," said George, aloud, as he looked after the insensible form of his friend. " Silence, sir," cried one of the judges, M. Thuriot, a harsh and severe-looking man, whose hatred to the prisoners was the subject of much conversation in the prison. " Ah, it is you, Tue-Roi," cried George, punning upon his name, for he had been one of the regicides. " You, there — I thought they had found you out long ere this." A burst of laughter that nothing could repress broke through the crowded court, and it was not until some five or six persons were forcibly removed by the gendarmes that order was again restored. " Read the act of accusation," said the president, in a deep solemn voice. " In the name of the republic, one and indivisible " " Monsieur le President/' interrupted the Procureur-ge'neral, " I would submit to the court that, as in the first act of accusation there are several of the prisoners not included, they should not remain during the recital of the indictment." A conversation of some minutes now took place between the judges, during which again the silence was unbroken in the court. I turned 25G OUR MESS. gladly from the gaze of the thousand spectators to the bench where my fellow-prisoners were seated; and, however varied by age, rank, and occupation, there seemed but one feeling amongst them — a hardy and resolute spirit to brave every danger without flinching. ""Which of the prisoners are not accused under the first act?" said Tiiuriot. '• Charles Auguste Rebarde," dit le Xoir, " Guillaume Lebarto, and Thomas Burke, sous-lieutenant in the eighth regiment of hussars." " Let them withdraw," said the president. A slight bustle, ensued in (he body of the court as the gendarmes advanced to make a passage for our exit ; and for a moment I could perceive that the attention of the assembly was drawn towards us. One by one we descended from the platform, and, with a gendarme on either side proceeded to pass out, when suddenly the deep mellow voice of Cadoudal called aloud — " Adieu, my friends, adieu! If we are not to be better treated than our prince, we shall never see you again." "Silence, sir!" cried the president, severely; and then, turning towards the bar of advocates, he continued — " If that man have an advocate in this court, it would well become him to warn his client that sue!i continued insult to the tribunal can only prejudice his cause." ,; I have none, and I wish for none," replied George, in a tone of de- fiance. " This mockery is but the first step of the guillotine, and I can walk it without assistance." '» A renewed call of " Silence !" and a deep murmur through the as- sembly, was all I heard, as the door of the court opened and closed behind us. As we marched along a low vaulted corridor, the sounds of the court grew fainter and fainter ; and at last the echoes of our own steps were the only noises. The room to which we were conducted was a small whitewashed chamber, around which ran a bench of unpaintcd wood. A deal table stood in the centre, on which was a common-looking earthenware jar of water, and some tin goblets. The window was several feet from the ground, and strongly barred with iron. " La Salle d'attente is gloomy enough," said one of my companions, "and yet some of us may be very sorry to leave it." " Not I, at least," cried the other, resolutely. " The basket be- neath the guillotine will be an easier couch than I have slept on these e months? 1 TOM BUEKE OF " OlltS." 25/ CHAPTER XXXVI. TIIE "TAEAIS DE JUSTICE." a It will go hard with Morcau to-day," said the elder of the two prisoners — a large, swarthy-looking Breton, in the dress of a sailor ; " the consul hates him." " Whom does he not hate?" said the younger — a slight and hand- some youth. " Whom does lie not hate that ever rivalled him in glory 't What love did he bear to Kleber or Dessaix ?" " It is false," said I, fiercely. " Bonaparte's greatness stands far too high to feel such rivalry as theirs — the conqueror of Italy and of Egypt " " Is a Corsican," interrupted the elder. "And a tyrant," rejoined the other, in the same breath. " These words become you well," said I, bitterly ; " would that no stain lay on my honour, and I could make you eat them." " And who are you that dare to speak thus ?" said the younger ; " or how came one like you mixed up with men, whose hearts were in a great cause, and who came to sell their lives upon it ?" " I tell you, boy," broke in the elder, in a slow and measured tone, •' I have made more stalwart limbs than thine bend, and stronger joints crack, for less than thou hast ventured to tell us ; but sorrow and suffering are hard masters, and I can bear more now than I was wont to do. Let us have no more words." As he spoke, he leaned his head upon his hand, and turned towards the wall ; the other, too, sat down in a corner of the cell, and was silent, and thus we remained for hours long. The dreary stillness, made more depressing by the presence of the two prisoners, whose deep-drawn breathings were the only sounds they uttered, had something unspeakably sad and melancholy in it, and more than once I felt sorry for the few words I had spoken, and which separated those whose misfortunes should have made them brothers. A confused and distant hum, swelling and falling at intervals, now filled the air ; and gradually I could distinguish the shouts of people at a distance. This increased as it came nearer, and then I heard the tramping noise of many feet, as of a great multitude of people passing in the street below, and suddenly a wild cheer broke forth — " Vive le Consul 1" " Vive Bonaparte !" followed the next instant by the clanking sound of a cavalry escort, while the cry grew louder and louder, and the vivas drowned all other sounds. " You hear them, Guillaume, you hear them," said the sailor to the other prisoner. " That shout is our death-cry. Bonaparte comes not here to-day but to see his judges do his bidding." MESS, NO. XXII. — VOL. II. S 258 OUR MESS. " What care I ?" said the other, fiercely. " The guillotine or the sabre, the axe or the bayonet — it is all one. We knew what must come of it." • The door opened as he spoke, and a greffier of the tribunal appeared with four gendarmes. " Come, messieurs," said he, " the court is waiting for you." " And how go matters without, sir ?" said the elder, in an easy tone. " Badly for the prisoners," said the greffier, shaking his head. " Monsieur Moreau, the general's brother, has done much injury — he has insulted the consul." '• Bravely done !" cried the younger man with enthusiasm. " It is well he should hear truth one day, though the tongue that uttered it should be cold the next." " Move on, sir," said the greffier, sternly. " Not you," added he, as I pressed forward after the rest. " Your time has not come." " Would that it had," said I, as the door closed upon me, and I was left in total solitude. The day was over, and the evening already late, when a turnkey appeared, and desired me to follow him. A moody indifference to every thing had settled on me, and I never spoke, as I walked behind him down corridor after corridor, and across a court, into a large massive-looking building, whose grated windows and strongly-barred doors reminded me of the Temple. " Here is your cell," said he roughly, as he unlocked a low door near the entrance. " It is gloomy enough," said I, with a sad smile. " And yet many have shed tears to leave it before now," rejoined he, with a savage twinkle of his small eyes. I was glad when the hoarse crash of the closed door told me I was alone, and I threw myself upon my bed, and buried my face in my hands. There is a state which is not sleep, and yet is akin to it, into which grief can bring us — a half dreary stupor, where only sorrows are felt, and even they come dulled and blunted, as if time and years had softened down their sting. But no ray of hope shines there — a dreary waste, without a star ; the cold dark sea, boundless and bleak, is not more saddening than does life then seem before us. There is neither path to follow nor goal to reach, and an apathy worse than death creeps over all our faculties ; and yet when we awake we wish for this again. Into this state I sank, and when morning came felt sorry that the light should shine into my narrow cell, and rouse me from my stupor. When the turnkey entered to bring me breakfast, I turned towards the wall, and trembled lest he should speak to me ; and it was with a strange thrill I heard the door close as he went out. The abandonment to one's sorrow — that daily, hourly indulgence in grief, which the uncheered solitude of a prison begets — 60on brings the mind to the narrow range of one or two topics. With the death of hope all fancy and imagination perish — the springs of all speculation TOM BUttlCE OF "OURS." 2.J9 are dried up — and every faculty bent towards one point — the reason, like a limb unexercised, wastes, and pines, and becomes paralyzed. Now and then the thought would flash across me — what ii' this were madness, and I shuddered not at the thought: such had my prison made me. Four days and nights passed over thus — a long, monotonous dream, in which I counted not the time, and I lay upon my straw bed watch- ing the expiring light of the candle with that strange interest one attaches to every thing within the limits of a prison-cell. The flame waned and flickered : now lighting up for a second the cold grey walls, scratched with many a prisoner's name ; now subsiding, it threw strange and fitful shapes upon them — figures that seemed to move and beckon to each other — goblin outlines, wild and fanciful ; then came a bright flash as the wick fell, and all was dark. If the dead do but sleep — was the first thought that crossed my mind as the gloom of total night wrapped every object about me, and a stillness most appalling prevailed. Suddenly I heard the sounds of a heavy bolt withdrawn, and a door opening, then a low rushing noise, like wind blowing through a narrow corridor, and at last the marching sounds of feet, and the accents of men speaking together ; nearer and nearer they came, and at length halted at the door of my cell. A cold faint feeling — the sickness of the heart — crept over me ; the hour — the sounds reminded me of what so often I had heard men speak of in the Temple, and the dread of assassination made me trem- ble from head to foot. The light streamed from beneath the door, and reached to my bed ; and I calculated the number of steps it would take before they approached me. The key grated in the lock, and the door opened slowly, and three men stood at the entrance. I sprang up wildly to my feet — a sudden impulse of self-defence seized me — and with a wild shout for them to come on, I rushed forward ; my foot, however, caught the angle of the iron bedstead, and I fell head- long and senseless to the ground. Some interval elapsed ; and when next I felt consciousness, I was lying full length on my bed — the cell lit up by two candles on the table, beside which sat two men, their heads bent eagerly over a mass of papers before them. One was an old and venerable-looking man, his white hair and long queue so bespeaking him; he wore a loose cloth cloak that covered his entire figure, but I coidd see that the brass scabbard of a sword projected beneath it ; on the chair beside him, too, there lay a foraging-cap. The other much younger, though still not in youth, was a thin, pale, care-worn man ; his forehead was high, and strongly marked ; and there was an intensity and determination in his brow and about the angles of his mouth most striking ; he was dressed in black, with deep ruffles at his wrist. " It is quite clear, general," said he, in a low and measured voice, where each word fell with perfect distinctness — " it is quite clear that they can press a conviction here if they will. The allegations are so contrived, as rather to indicate complicity, than actually establish it. 260 OL'R MESS. Tlie defence in such cases Las to combat shadows, not overturn facts ; and believe me, a procureur-geueral, armed by a police, is a dex- terous enemy." f I have no doubt of it," said the general, rapidly, " but what are the weak points ? — where is he most assailable ?" " Every where," said the other. " To begin — the secret informa- tion of the outbreak between Lord "Whitwdrth and the consul — the frequent meetings with Count de Beauvais — the false report to the chef de police — the concealment of this abbe — by-the-by, I am not cptite clear about that part of the case ; why have the prosecution not brought this abbe forward. It is evident they have his evidence, and can produce him, if they will: and I see no other name in the act of accusation than our old acquaintance — Mehee de La Touche " " The villain !" cried the general, with a stamp of indignation, while a convulsive spasm seemed to shake every fibre of his frame. " .Mehee de La Touche !" said I to myself. "I have heard that name before ;" and like a lightning-flash it crossed my mind that such was the uame of the man Marie de Meudon charged me with knowing. " But still," said the general, " what can they make of all these ? that of indiscretion — folly — breach of discipline, if you will ; but " " Wait a little," said the other, quietly ; "then comes the night of the chateau, in .which he is found among the Chouan party in their very den, taking part in the defence." " No ! no ! Lamorciere, who commanded the cuirassiers, Can establish the fact beyond question — that Burke took no part in the affray, and delivered his sword at once when called on." " At least they found him there, and on his person the brevet of colonel, signed by monsieur himself." " Of that I can give no explanation," replied the general; "but I am in possession of such information as can account for his presence at the chateau, and establish his innocence on that point." "/'Indeed," cried the advocate, for such he was; " with that much may be done." " Unhappily, however," rejoined the general, " if such a disclosure is not necessary to save his life, I cannot venture to give it ; the ruin of another must follow the explanation." " "Without it he is lost," said the advocate, solemnly. " And would not accept of life with it," said I boldly, as I started up in my bed, and looked fixedly at them. The general sprang back astonished and speechless ; but the advo- cate, with more command over his emotions, cast his eyes upon the paper before him, and quickly asked, "And the commission — how do vou account for that :" " It was offered to, and refused by me. He who made the proposal forgot, it on my table, and I was about to restore it when I was made prisoner." "What condition was attached to your acceptance of it?" TOM BUSKS OF "OURS." 2C 1 " Some vague, indistinct proposals were made to me to join a con- spiracy of which I was neither told the object nor intentions. Indeed I stopped any disclosure by rejecting the bribe." " Who made these same proposals ?" " I shall not tell his name." " No matter," said the advocate, carelessly : " it was Count de Beauvais ;" and then, as if affecting to write, I saw his sharp eyes glance over towards me, while a smile of gratified cunning twitched his lip. " You will have no objection to say how first you became acquainted with him ?" The dexterity of this query, by replying to which I at once esta- blished his preceding assumption, completely escaped me, and I gave an account of my first meeting with De Beauvais without ever dream- ing of the inferences it led to. "An unhappy rencontre, sir," said the adovcate, as if musing: "better have finished the intimacy, as you first intended, at the Bois de Boulogne." " It may be as you say, sir," said I, irritated by the flippancy of his remark ; " but, perhaps, I may ask the name of the gentleman who takes such interest in my affairs, and by what right lie meddles in them ?" The general started back in his chair, and was about to speak, when the advocate laying his hand gently on his arm to restrain him, and in a voice of the most unruffled smoothness, replied — " As to my name, sir, it is Laurence Baillot ; my rank is simple avocat of the Cour de Tribunal ; and the ' right' by which I interfere in matters personal to you, is the consideration of fifty louis which accompanied this brief." " And my name, young man, is Lieutenant-general d'Auvergne," said the old man proudly, as he stared me steadfastly in the face. I arose at once, and saluted the general with a deep and respectful obeisance. It was the same officer who reviewed us at the Polytech- nique the day of my promotion. " You are now, I hope, satisfied with the reasons of our presence, and that nothing but considerations of your interest can have influenced our visit," said the avocat with calm- ness: "such being the case, sit down here, and relate all you can of your life since your leaving the Polytechnique ; be brief too, for it is now three o'clock ; the court opens at ten, your case will be called the second, and I must at least have three hours of sleep." The general pointed to a seat beside him ; I sat down, and without any delay proceeded to give a rapid account of all my adventures ami proceedings, to the hour we were then assembled, only omitting ail mention of Mademoiselle de Meudon's name, and such allusions to Beauvais as might lead to his crimination. The advocate wrote down, as rapidly as 1 spoke them, the principal details of my history, and when I had concluded, perused the notes he had taken with a quick eye. " This will never do," said he, with more impatience in his manner than I had yet witnessed ; " here are a mass of circumstances all unexplained, and all suspicious. It is now entirely a question of the feeling of the court. The charges if pressed, 262 OUR MF.SS. must lead to a conviction. Your innocence, sir, may satisfy — indeed it has satisfied General d'Auvergne, who else had not been here this night — but the proofs are not before us." He paused for a moment, and then continued in a lower tone, addressing himself directly to the general, '• We must entreat a delay ; a day — two days, certainly, will establish the proofs against George and his accomplices ; they will be con- demned and executed at once. It is most likely that the court will not recur to capital punishment again. The example being made, any further demonstration will be needless. I see you put little faith in this manoeuvre ; but trust me, I know the temper of the tribunal ; besides the political stroke has already succeeded. Bonaparte has conquered all his enemies ; his next step will be to profit by the victory." These words were riddles to me at the time, though the day soon came when their meaning was palpable. " Yes, two days will do it," said he, confidently raising his voice as he spoke ; " and then whether there be a hussar the more, or one the less in France, will little trouble the current of events." " Then, how to obtain the time ; that is the question," said the general. " Oh, we shall try something ; there can always be a witness to be called ; some evidence all essential, not forthcoming ; some necessary proof not quite unravelled. What if we summoned this same abb£. The court will make proclamation for him. D'Ervan's the name." " Yes ; but if by so doing he may be involved." " Fear nothing on that score ; he'll never turn up, believe me. We can affect to show that his evidence is all important. Yes, we'll make the Abbe D'Ervan our first witness. Where shall we say he resides ? Rouen I suppose will do. Yes, Rouen ;" and so, without waiting for reply, he continued to -tfrite. " By this, you perceive," he remarked with a look of gratified cunning, " we shall disconcert their plans. They are evidently keeping this abbe up for some greater occasion ; they have a case against himself, perhaps, in which the proofs are not yet sufficient for conviction. We'll trouble their game, and they may be glad to compromise with us." The general looked as much confounded as myself at these schemes of the lawyer, but we both were silent. A few questions more followed, to which he wrote down my answers as I gave them, and then starting up, he said — " And now, general, I must hasten home to bed. Be ready, at all events, for appearing be- fore the tribunal, Mr. Burke ; at ten you will be called, and so good night." He bowed formally to me, as he opened the door to permit the general to pass out first. "I'll follow you in a moment," said the general, while he closed the door after him, and remained behind with me in the cell. " It only this evening, sir," said he, in a low voice, "at the return < f Madame Bonaparte from Boulogne, that Mademoiselle de Meudon learned you were not at liberty. She has made me acquainted with tlie circumstances by which your present risk has been incurred, and has put me in possession of wherewithal to establish your innocence as TOM BURKE OP " OURS." 263 regards the adventure at the Chateau d'Ancre. This disclosure, if it exculpates you, will of course criminate her, and among those too, where she has been received and admitted on terms of the closest friendship. The natural desire to save her cousin's life will not cover the act by which so horrible a conspiracy might have escaped punish- ment. Bonaparte never forgives ! Now, I am in possession of this proof, and if you demand it, it shall be in your keeping. I have no hesitation in saying that the other charges against you can easily be got over — this one being refuted. What do you say ?" " Nothing could make me accept of such an exculpation," said I, resolutely ; " and were it offered in spite of me, I'll plead guilty to the whole act, and suffer with the rest." The old man's eyes glistened with pleasure, and I thought I saw a a tear fall on his cheek. " Now," cried he, as he grasped my hand in both his — " now I feel that you are innocent, my brave boy, and come what will, I'll stand by you." With that he hurried from the cell, and followed the advocate, who was already calling with some impatience to have the doors unlocked. I was again alone. No, not alone — for in my narrow cell hope was with me now. CHAPTER XXXVII. THE " TRIAL." So doubtful was the government of the day in what way the people of Paris would be disposed to regard the trial of the Chouan pri- soners, how far public sympathy might side with misfortune and heroism, and in what way they would regard Moreau, whose career in arms so many had witnessed with pride and enthusiasm, that for seve- ral days they did not dare to strike the decisive blow which was to establish their guilt, but advanced with slow and cautious steps, gra- dually accumulating a mass of small circumstances, on which the Moniteur each day commented, and the other journals of less authority expatiated, as if to prepare the public mind for further and more important revelations. At last, however, the day arrived in which the mine was to be sprung. The secret police — whose information extended to all that went on in every class of the capital, who knew the chit-chat of the highest circles, equally as they did the grumblings of the Faubourg St. Antoine — pronounced the time had come when the fatal stroke might no longer be withheld, and when the long-destined vengeance should descend on their devoted heads. 264 OUR MESS. The want of energy on the part of the prosecution — the absence of important witnesses, and of all direct evidence whatever, which marked the first four days of the trial, had infused a high hope and a strong sense of security into the prisoners' hearts. The proofs which they so much dreaded, and of whose existence they well knew, were not forthcoming against them. The rumoured treachery of some of their party began, at length, to lose its terror for them — while in the lax and careless proceedings of the procureur-general they saw, or fan- cied they saw, a desire on the part of government to render the public uninterested spectators of the scene, and thus prepare the way for an acquittal, while no danger of any excitement existed. Such was the state of matters at the close of the fourth day — a tire- some and desultory discussion on some merely legal question had occu- pied the court for several hours ; and many of the spectators, wearied and tired out, had gone home disappointed in their expectations, and secretly resolving not to return the following day. This was the moment for which the party in power had been wait- ing — the interval of false security, as it would seem, when all danger was past, and no longer any apprehension existed. The sudden shock of the newly-discovered proofs Mould then come with peculiar force, while, no matter how rapid any subsequent step might be, all charge of pre- cipitancy or undue haste had been disproved by the tardy nature of the four first days' proceedings. For the change of scene about to take place an early edition of the Moniteur prepared the public ; and by day-break the walls of Paris were placarded with great announcements of the discoveries made by the government — how, by their untiring efforts, the whole plot, which was to deluge France with blood, and invert the glorious institutions of freedom they had acquired by the revolution, had been laid open. That new and convincing evidence of the guilt of the Chouans had turned up — and a frightful picture of anarchy and social disorganiza- tion was displayed, all of which was to originate in an effort to restore the Bourbons to the throne of France. While, therefore, the galleries of the court were crowded to suffo- cation at an early hour, and every avenue leading to the tribunal crammed with people, anxious to be present at this eventful crisis, the prisoners took their places on the " bench of the accused," totally unaware of the reason of the excitement they witnessed, and strangely puzzled to conceive what unknown circumstance had re-invested the proceedings with a new interest. As I took my place among the rest I stared with surprise at tin' scene — the strange contrast between the thousands there whose strained eves and feverish faces betokened the highest degree of excitement, and that little group on which every look was turned — calm, and even cheerful. There sat George Cadoudal in the midst of them, his hands clasped in those at either side of him ; his strongly-marked feat'. perfectly at rest, and his eyes bent with a steady stare on the bench where the judges were seated. Moreau was not present, nor did I see some of the Chouans whom I remembered on the former day TOM HURKE OF " OURS." 2b") The usual fonual proclamation of the court being made, silence was called by the crier — a useless precaution, as throughout that vast assembly not a whisper was to be heard. A conversation of some minutes took place between the procureur and the counsel for the prisoners, in which I recognised the voice of Monsieur Baillot my own advocate, which was interrupted by the president, desiring that the proceedings should commence. The procureur-general bowed, and took his seat, while the presi- dent, turning towards George, said — " George Cadoudal, you have hitherto persisted in a course of blank denial regarding every circumstance of the conspiracy with which you are charged. You have asserted your ignorance of persons and places with which we are provided with proof to show you are well acquainted. You have neither accounted for your presence in suspected situations, nor satisfactorily shown what were the objects of your intimacy with suspected individuals. The court now desires to ask you, whether at this stage of the proceedings you wish to offer more explicit revela- tions, or explain any of the dubious events of your career:"' " I will answer any question you put to me," replied George, sternly ; " but I have lived too long in another country not to have learned some of its usages, and I feel no desire to become my own accuser. Let him there (he pointed to the procureur-general) do his cilice — • he is the paid and salaried assailant of the innocent." " T call upon the court," said the procureur, rising — when he was suddenly interrupted by the president saying, " We will protect you. monsieur le procureur; and once again we would admonish the accused, that insolence to the authorities of this court is but a sorry plea in vin- dication of his innocence, and shall be no recommendation to our mercy." " Your mercy !" said George, in a voice of scorn and sarcasm. " Who ever heard of a tiger's benevolence or a wolf's charity ? And even if you w T ished it, he whose slaves you are " " I call upon you to be silent," said an advocate, rising from a bench directly behind him — "another interruption of this kind and I shall abandon the defence." "What!" said George, turning quickly round and staring at him with a look of withering contempt, " and have they bought you over too ?" " Call the first witness," said the president, and an indistinct mur- mur was heard, and a slight confusion seen to agitate the crowd, as the gendarmes opened a path towards the witness bench ; and then I saw two men carrying something between them, which 1 soon perceived to be a man. The legs, which were alone apparent, hung down listlessly like those of a corpse, and one arm, which fell over the shoulder of the bearer, moved to and fro, as they went, like the limb of a dead man. Every neck was stretched from the galleries above, and along the benches beneath, to catch a glimpse of the mysterious figure, which seemed like an apparition from the grave come to give evidence. His face, too, was concealed by a handkerchief; and as he was placed in a chair provided 266 OUR MESS. for the purpose, the assistants stood at ether side to support his drooping figure. " Let the witness be sworn," said the president ; and with the aid of an oflicer of the court, a thin white hand was held up, on which the flesh seemed almost transparent from emaciation — a low muttering sound followed, and the president spoke again : " Let the witness be uncovered. George Cadoudal, advance!" As the hardy Chouan stepped forward the handkerchief fell from the witness's face, while his head slowly turned round towards the pri- soner. A cry, like the yell of a wounded animal, broke from the stout Breton, as he bounded into the air and held up both his arms to their full height. " Tot, toi," screamed he, in accents that seemed the very last of a heart wrung to agony, while he leaned forward, and fixed his eyes on him, till the very orbs seemed bursting from their sockets. " Oai" added he, in a lower tone, but one which was felt in every corner of that crowded assemblage — " Out, cest lui." Then clasping his trembling hands together, as his knees bent beneath him, he turned his eyes upwards, and said — " Le bon Dieu, that makes men's hearts and knows their thoughts, deals with us as he will ; and I must have sinned sorely towards him when such punishment as this has fallen upon me — oh, my brother, my child, my own Bouvet de Lozier." " Bouvet de Lozier," cried the other prisoners, with a shout wild as madness itself, while every man sprung forward to look at him. But already the head had fallen back over the chair, the limbs stretched out rigidly, and the arm fell heavily down. "He is dying" — " he is dead" — were the exclamations of the crowd, and a general cry for a doctor was heard around. Several physicians were soon at his side, and by the aid of restoratives he was gradually brought back to anima- tion, but cold and speechless he lay, unable to understand any thing, and was obliged to be conveyed back again to his bed. It was some time before the excitement of this harrowing scene was over ; and when order at length was restored in the court, George Cadoudal was seen seated, as at first, on the bench, while around him his faithful followers were grouped. Like children round a beloved father, some leaned on his neck, others clasped his knees — some covered hi^ hands with kisses, and called him by the most endearing names. But though he moved his head from side to side, and tried to smile upon them, a cold vacancy was in his face, his lips were parted, and his eyea stared wildly before him, his very hair stood out from his forehead, on which the big drops of sweat were seen. " Father, dear father, it is but one who is false — see, look how many of \ our children are true to you — think on us who are with you here, and will go with you to death without shrinking." " He is but a child, too, father, and they have stolen away his reason from him," said another. " Yes, they have brought him to this by suffering," cried a third, as with a flenched hand he menaced the bench where sat the judges. " Order in the court," cried the president, but the command was TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 2G7 reiterated again and again before silence could be obtained ; and when again I could observe the proceedings, I saw the procureur-genera] addressing the tribunal, to demand a postponement, in consequence of the illness of the last witness, whose testimony was pronounced all conclusive. A discussion took place on the subject between the counsel for tlie prisoners and the prosecution, and at length it was ruled that this trial should not be proceeded with till the following morning. '• We are, however, prepared to go on with the other cases," said the procureur, "if the court will permit." " Certainly," said the president. " In that case," continued the procureur, " we shall call on the ac- cused Thomas Burke, lieutenant of the huitieme hussars, now r present." For some minutes nothing more could be heard, for the crowded gal- leries, thronged with expectant hundreds, began now to empty. Mine was a name without interest for anv ; and the thronged masses rose to depart, while their over-excited minds found vent in words which drowned all else. It was in vain silence and order were proclaimed — the proceedings had lost all interest, and with it all respect, and for full ten minutes the uproar lasted. Meanwhile M. Baillot taking his place at my side, produced some most voluminous papers, in which he soon became deeply engaged. I turned one look through- out the now almost deserted seats, but not one face there was known to me. The few who remained seemed to stay rather from indolence than any other motive, as they lounged over the vacant benches, and yawned listlessly ; and much as I dreaded the gaze of that appalling multitude, I sickened at the miserable isolation of my lot, and felt overwhelmed to think that for me there was not one who should pity or regret my fall. At last order w r as established in the court, and the procureur opened the proceeding by reciting the act of my accusation, in which all the circumstances already mentioned by my advocate were dwelt and commented on with the habitual force and exaggeration of bar oratory. The address was short, however, scarcely fifteen minutes long ; and by the tone of the speaker, and the manner of the judges, I guessed that my case excited little or no interest to the prosecution, either from nry own humble and insignificant position, or the certainty they felt of my conviction. My advocate rose to demand a delay, even a short one, pleading most energetically against the precipitancy of a proceeding in which the indictment was but made known the day previous. The president interrupted him roughly, and with an assurance that no circumstance short of the necessity to produce some important evidence not then forthcoming, would induce him to grant a postponement. M. Baillot replied at once — " Such, sir, is our case — a wit- ness, whose evidence is of the highest moment, is not to be found • — a day or two might enable us to obtain his testimony — it is upon this we ground our hope, our certainty of an acquittal. The court will not, I am certain, refuse its clemency in such an emergency as this ?" 2GS OUR MESS. " Where is this same witness to be found — is he in Paris — is he in ranee r " \\ e hope in Paris, monsieur le president. " And his name ?" « The Abbe" D'Ervan." A strange murmur ran along the bench of judges at the words, and I could see that some of them smiled in spite of their efforts to seem grave, while the procureur-geneVal did not scruple to laugh outright. " I believe, sir," said he, addressing the president, " that I can ac- commodate my learned brother with this so-much-desired testimony perhaps more speedily — I will not say than he wishes — but than he expects." " How is this ?" said my advocate, in a whisper to me — " they have this abbe then — has he turned against his party?" " I know nothing of him," said I, recklessly : " falsehood and trea- chery seem so rife here, that it can well be as you say." " The Abbe D'Ervan," called a loud voice, and with the words the well-known figure moved rapidly from the crowd and mounted the steps of the platform. " You are lost," said Baillot, in a low, solemn voice. [ " It is Mehee de La Touche himself." Had the words of my sentence rung in my ears I had not. felt them more ; that name by some secret spell had such terror in it. " You know the prisoner before you, sir," said the president, turn- ing towards the abbe ? Before he could reply my advocate broke in. " Pardon me, sir, but previous to the examination of this respectable witness I would ask under what name he is to figure in this process ? Is he here the Abbe D'Ervan — the agreeable and gifted frequenter of the Faubourg St. Germain ? is he the Chevalier Maupret — the companion and associate of the house of Bourbon? or is he the no less celebrated and esteemed citizen Mehee de La Touche, whose active exertions have been of such value in these eventful times, that we should think no recompense sufficient for them, had he not been paid by both parties. Yes, sir," continued he in an altered tone, " I repeat it, we are prepart ■; 1 1 to show that this man is unworthy of all credit — that he, whose testi- mony the court now calls, is a hired spy, a bribed calumniator — the instigator to the treason he prosecutes — the designer of the schemes for which other men's blood has paid the penalty. Is this abbe with- out and gendarme within to be at large in the world, ensnaring the unsuspecting youth of France by subtle and insidious doctrines dis- guised under the semblance of after-dinner gaiety? Are we to feel that on such evidence as this, the fame, the honour, the life of every man is to rest ? He who earns his livelihood by treason, and whose wealth is gathered in the bloody sawdust beneath the guillotine !" " We shall not hear these observations longer," said the president, with an accent of severity. " You may comment on the evidence of the witness hereafter, and, if you are able to do so, disorove it. His character is under the protection of the court." TOM BUKK.E M " UUUS." J'-ft i " No, sir," said the advocate, with energy ; " no court however high — no tribunal, beneath that of heaven itself — whose decrees we dare not question — can throw a shield over a man like this. There are crimes which stain the nation they occur in — which, happening in our age, make men sorry for their generation, and wish that they had lived in other times." " Once more, sir, I command you to desist," interrupted the presi- dent. " If I dare to dictate to the honourable court," said the so-called abbe, in au accent of the most honied sweetness, and with a smile of the most winning expression — " I would ask permission for the learned gentleman to proceed. These well-arranged paragraphs — this indig- nation got by heart, must have vent, since they're paid for ; and it would save the tribunal the time which must be consumed in listening to them hereafter." " If,"said the advocate, " the coolness and indifference to blood which the headsman exhibits, be a proof of guilt in the victim before him, I could congratulate the prosecution on their witness. But," cried he, in anaccent of wild excitement, " great heavens ! are we again fallen on such times as to need atrocity like this. Is the terrible ordeal of blood, through which we have passed to be renewed once more? Is the accusation to l)e hoarded — the calumnious evidence secreted — the charge held back — till the scaffold is ready — and then the indictment, the slander, the sentence, and the death to follow on one another like the flash and the thunder ? Is the very imputation of having heard from a Bourbon, to bear its prestige of sudden death ?" " Silence, sir," cried the president, to whom the allusion to the Due D'Enghein was peculiarly offensive, and who saw in the looks of the spectators with what force it told. " You know the prisoner?" said he, turning towards D'Ervan. " I have that honour, sir," said he, with a bland smile. " State to the court the place and the occasion of your first meeting him." " If I remember correctly, it was in the Palais Royale, at Beauvil- liers. There was a meeting of some of the Chouan party arranged 6i '- *:hat evening, but from some accident only three or four were pre- sent. The sous-lieutenant, however, was one." " Repeat, as far as your memory serves you, the conduct and con- versation of the prisoner during the evening in question ?" In reply the abbe recapitulated every minute particular of the supper ; scarcely an observation the most trivial he did not recall and apply, by some infernal ingenuity, to the scheme of the conspiracy. At hough, never even in the slightest instance falsifying any speech, he tortured the few words I did say into such a semblance of criminality, that I started, as I heard the interpretation which now appeared so naturally to attach to them. During all this time my advocate never interrupted him once, but occupied himself in writing as rapidly as he could follow the, evidence. OIR Ml The chance expression which concluded, the evening, the hope of tin ■ soon, was artfully construed into an arranged and recognised agreement that I had accepted companionship amongst them, and formally joined their ranks. From this he passed on to the second charge, respecting the conversation I had overheard at the Tuileries, and which I so unhappily repeated to Beauvais. This the abbe dwelt upon with great minuteness, as evidencing my being an accomplice, showing how I had exhibited great zeal in the new cause I had em- barked in, and affecting to mark how very highly the service was rated by those in whose power lay the rewards of such an achievement. Then followed the account of my appointment at Versailles, in which I heard, with a sinking heart, how thoroughly even there the toils were spread around me. It appeared, that the reason of the neglect I then experienced, was an order from the minister that I should not be noticed in any way ; that the object of my being placed there was to test my fidelity, which already was suspected ; that it was supposed such neglect might naturally have the effect of throwing me more willingly into the views of the conspirators, and, as I was watched in every minute particular, of establishing my own guilt and leading to the detection of others. Then came a narrative of his visits to my quarters, in which the omission of all mention of his name in my report was clearly shown as an evidence of my conscious culpability ; and to my horror and confusion a new witness was produced, the sentinel Pierre Dulong, who mounted guard at the gate of the chateau on the morning when I passed the abbe through the park. With an accuracy beyond my belief he repeated all our conver- sations, making the dubious hints and dark suggestions which he him- self threw out as much mine as his own; and having at length given a full picture of my treacherous conduct, he introduced my intimacy with Beauvais as the crowning circumstance of my guilt. " I shall pause here," said he, with a cool malignity, but ill concealed beneatli a look of affected sorrow — "I shall pause here, and, with the permis- sion of the court, allow the accused to make, if he will, a full confes- sion of his criminality ; or, if he refuse this, I shall proceed to the disclosure of other circumstances, by which it will be seen that these dark designs met favour and countenance in higher quartets . 1 among those, too, whose sex, if nothing else, should have removed them beyond the contamination of confederacy with assassination." " The court," said the president, sternly, "will enter into no com- promise of this kind. You are here to give such evidence as you possess — fully, frankly, and without reserve; nor can we permit you to hold out any promises to the prisoner that his confession of guilt can afford a screen to the culpability of others.'' " I demand," cried the procureur-general, " a full disclosure from the witness of every thing he knows concerning this conspiracy." " In that case I shall speak," said the abbe. \t this instant a noise was heard in the hall without ; a half murmur ran through the court; and suddenly the heavy curtain was drawn abide, and a loud voice called out — TOM BURKE OF "OURS." 271 " In the name of the republic — one and indivisible— an order of council." The messenger, splashed and covered with mud, advanced through the court, and delivered a packet into the hands of the president, who, having broken the large seals, proceeded leisurely to read it over. At the same moment I felt my arm gently touched, and a small pencil note was slipped into my hand. It ran thus : — " Dear Sir — Burke is safe. An order for his transmission before a military tribunal has just been signed by the first consul. Stop all the evidence at once, as he is no longer before the court. The court- martial will be but a formality, and in a few days he will be at liberty — Yours, " D'Auvergne, " Lieutenant- General." Before I could recover the shock of such glad tidings the president rose, and said — " In the matter of the accused Burke this court has no longer cognizance, as he is summoned before the tribunal of the army. Let him withdraw, and call on the next case — Auguste Leconisset." D'Ervan stooped down and whispered a few words to the procureur-general, who immediately demanded to peruse the order of council. To this my advocate at once objected, and a short and animated discussion on the legal question followed. The president, however, ruled in favour of my defender ; and at the same instant a corporal's guard appeared, into whose charge I was formally handed over, and marched from the court. Such was the excited state of my mind — in such a confused whirl were all my faculties, that I knew nothing of what was passing around me ; and save that I was ordered to mount into a carriage, and driven along at a rapid pace, I remembered no more. At length we reached the quay Voltaire, and entered the large square of the barrack. The tears burst out and ran down my cheeks, as I looked once more on the emblems of the career I loved. We stopped at the door of a large stone building, where two sentries were posted ; and the moment after I found myself the occupant of a small barrack-room, in which, though under arrest, no feature of harsh confinement appeared, and from whose windows I could survey the movement of the troops in the court, and hear the sounds which for so many a day had been the most welcome to my existence. 272 OUR MESS CHAPTER XXXVIII, " THE CUIRASSIER." Although my arrest was continued with all its strictness, I never heard one word of my transmission before the military tribunal; and a fortnight elapsed, during which I passed through every stage of ex- pectancy, doubt, and at last indifference ; no tidings having ever reached me as to what fortune lay in store for me. The gruff old invalid that carried my daily rations seemed but ill- disposed to afford me any information, even as to the common events without, and seldom made any other reply to my questioning than an erect position as if on parade, a military salute, and " Connais pas, mon lieutenant" — a phrase which I actually began to abhor from its repetition. Still his daily visits showed I was not utterly forgotten ; while from my window I had a view of all that went on in the barrack yard. There — for I had neither books nor newspapers — I spent my entire day watching the evolutions of the soldiers : the parade at day- break, the relieving guards, the drill, the exercise, the very labours of the barrack square — all had their interest for me, and at length I began to know the very faces of the soldiers, and could recognise the bronzed and weather-beaten features of the veterans of the republican armies. It was a cuirassier regiment, and one that had seen much service : most of the sous officiers and many of the men were decorated ; and their helmets bore the haughty device of " Dix contre un /" in memory of some battle against the Austrians, where they repulsed and overthrew a force of ten times their own number. At first their heavy equipments and huge unwieldy horses seemed strange and uncouth to my eyes, accustomed to the more elegant and trim style of a hussar corps, but gradually I fancied there was some- thing almost more soldierlike about them; their dark faces harmonised too with the great black cuirass; and the large massive boot mounting to the middle of the thigh, the long horse-haired helmet, the straight sword, and peculiar, heavy, plodding step, reminded ine of what I used to read of the Roman centurion ; while the horses, covered with weighty and massive trappings, moved with a warlike bearing, and a tramp as stately as their riders. When evening came, and set the soldiers free from duty, I used to v. atch them for hours long, as they sat in little groups and knots about the barrack yard, smoking and chatting — occasionally singing too. Ever then, however, their distinctive character was preserved: unlike the noisy, boisterous merriment of the hussar, the staid cuirassier deemed such levity unbecoming the dignity of his arm of the service, and there reigned a half solemn feature over all their intercourse, which struck TOM BLRKE OE " 0DB8." 273 me forcibly. I knew not then — as I have learned full well since — how every department of the French army had its distinctive characteristic, and that Napoleon studied and even encouraged the growth of these singular manners to a great extent ; doubtless, too, feeling a pride in his own thorough intimacy with their most minute traits, and that facility with which, by a single word, he could address himself to the cherished feeling of a particular corps. And the tact by which the monarch wins over and fascinates the nobles of his court, was here exercised in the great world of a camp, and with far more success too : a phrase, a name, some well-known battle, the date of a victory, would fall from his lips as he rode along the line, and be caught up with enthusiasm by thousands, who felt in the one word a recognition of past services. " Thou" — he always addressed the soldiers in the second person — " thou wert with me at Cairo ;" " I remember thee at Areola," were enough to reward wounds, suffering, mutilation itself; and he to whom such was addressed became an object of veneration among his fellows. Certain corps preserved more studiously than others the memories of past achievements — the heir-looms of their glory ; and to these Bona- parte always spoke with a feeling of friendship most captivating to the soldier's heart, and from them he selected the various regiments that composed his " guard." The cuirassiers belonged to this proud force ; and even an unmilitary eye could mark, in their haughty bearing and assured look, that they were a favoured corps. Among those with whose faces I had now grown familiar there was one whom I regarded with unusual interest : he seemed to me the very type of his class. lie was a man of gigantic size, towering by half ahead above the very tallest of his fellows, while his enormous breadth of chest and shoulder actually seemed to detract from his great height. The lower part of his face was entirely concealed by a beard of bright red hair that fell in a huge mass over the breast of his cuirass, and seemed by its trim and fashion to be an object, of no common pride to the wearer ; his nose was marked by a sabre cut that extended across one entire cheek, leaving a deep blue welt in its track: but saving these traits — wild and savage enough — the countenance was singularly mild and pleasing ; he had large and liquid blue eyes, soft and lustrous as any girl's ; the lashes, too, were long and falling ; and his forehead, which was high and open, was white as snow. I was not long in remarking the strange influence this man seemed to possess over the rest — an ascendancy not in any way attributable to the mark on his sleeve, which proclaimed him a corporal. It seemed as though his slightest word, his least gesture, was attended to; and though evidently taciturn and quiet, when he spoke I could detect in his manner an air of promptitude and command that marked him as one born to be above his fellows. If he seemed such in the idle hours, on parade he was the beau ideal of a cuirassier. His great war-horse, seemingly small for the immense proportions of the heavy rider, bounded with each movement of his wrist, as if instinct with the horse- man's wishes. MESS, NO. XXII. — VOL. II. T 274 OUR MESS. I waited with some impatience for the invalid's arrival, to ask who this remarkable soldier was, certain that I should hear of no common man. He came soon after ; and as I pointed out the ohject of my curiosity, the old fellow drew himself up with pride, and, while a grim effort at a smile crossed his features, replied — " That's Pioche — Le gros Pioche .'" " Pioche !" said I, repeating the name aloud, and endeavouring to remember why it seemed well known to me. " Yes, Pioche," rejoined he, gruflly. " If monsieur had ever been in Egypt, the name would scarcely sound so strange in his ears." And with this sarcasm he hobbled from the room and closed the door, while I could hear him grumbling along the entire corridor, in evident anger at the ignorance that did not know " Pioche." Twenty times did I repeat the name aloud, before it flashed across me as the same Madame Lefebvre mentioned at the soiree in the palace. It was Pioche who shouldered the brass field-piece, and passed before the general on parade. The gigantic size, the powerful strength, the strange name — all could belong to no other ; and I felt as though at once I had found an old acquaintance in the great cuirassier of the guard. If the prisoner in his lonely cell has few incidents to charm his solitary hours, in return he is enabled by some happy gift to make these the sources of many thoughts. The gleam of light that falls upon the floor, broken by the iron gratings of his window, comes laden with storied fancies of other lands — of far distant countries, where men are dwelling in their native mountains free and happy ; forgetful of his prison, the captive wanders in his fancy through valleys he has seen in boyhood, and with friends to be met no more. He turns gladly to the past, of whose pleasures no adverse fortune can deprive him, and lives over again the happy hours of his youth ; and thinks, with a melancholy not devoid of its own pleasure, of what they would feel who loved him, could they but see him now : he pictures their sympathy and their sorrow, and his heart feels lighter, though his eyes drop tears. In this way the great cuirassier became an object for my thoughts by day and my dreams by night. I fancied a hundred stories, of which he was the hero; and these imaginings served to while away many a tedious hour, and gave me an interest in watching the little spot of earth that was visible from my barred window. It was in one of these reveries I sat one evening when I heard the sounds of feet approaching along the corridor that led to my room ; the clank of a sabre and the jingle of spurs sounded not like my gruff visitor. My door was opened before I had time for much conjecture, and General D'Auvergne stood before me. " Ah ! mon lieutenant" cried he, gaily, " you have been thinking very hardly of me since we met last, I'm sure; charging me with forgetfulness, and accusing me of great neglect." " Pardon me, general," said I, hurriedly ; " your former kindness, for which I never can be grateful enough, has been always before my mind. I have not yet forgotten that you saved my life; more still— you rescued my name from dishonour." TOM BURKE OF "OURS." 275 ** Well well ; that's all past and gone now : your reputation stands clear at last. Beauvais has surrendered himself to the authorities at Rouen, and made a full confession of every thing, exculpating you completely in every particular, save the indiscretion of your inter- course with Mehee de La Touche — or, as you know him better, the Abbe D'Ervan." " And poor Beauvais, what is to become of him ?" said I eagerly. " Have no fears on his account," said he, with something like com fusion in his manner ; " she — that is, Madame Bonaparte has kindly interested herself in his behalf, and he is to sail for Guadaloupe in a few days — his own proposition and wish." " And does General Bonaparte know now that I was guiltless ?" cried I, with enthusiasm. " My dear young man," said he, with a bland smile, " I very much fear that the general has little time at this moment to give the matter much of his attention. Great events have happened — are happening while we speak : war is threatening on the side of Austria. Yes, it is true ; the camp of Boulogne has received orders to break up ; troops are once more on their march to the Rhine ; all France is arming." " Oh, when shall I be free ?" " You are free !" cried he, clapping me gaily on the shoulder : " an amnesty against all untried prisoners for state offences has been pro- claimed. At such a moment of national joy " " What do you mean ?" " What! and have I not told you my great news ? The senate have presented to Bonaparte an address, praying his acceptance of the throne of France — or, in their very words, to make his authority eternal." "And he?" said I, breathless with impatience to know the result. " He," continued the general, t: has replied as became him, desiring them to state clearly their views — by what steps they propose to consolidate the acquired liberties of the nation ; and while avowing that no higher honour or dignity can await him than such as he has already received at the hands of the people — < yet,' added he, ' when the hour arrives that I can see such to be the Mill of France, when one voice proclaims it from Alsace to the ocean — from Lisle to the Pyrenees, then shall I be ready to accept the crown of France.' " The general entered minutely into all the circumstances of the great political change, and detailed the effect which the late conspiracy had had on the minds of the people, and with what terror they contemplated the social disorders that must accrue from the death of their great ruler ; how nothing short of a government based on a monarchy, with the right of succession established, could withstand such a terrific crisis. As he spoke, the words I had heard in the Temple crossed my mind, and I remembered that such was the anticipation of the prisoners, as they said among themselves — " When the guillotine has done its work, they'll patch up the timbers into a throne. "And George Cadoudal and the others?" said I. " They are no more. Betrayed by their own party, they met death like brave men, and as worthy of a better cause. But let us not turn to 276 OCR MESS. bo s;ul a theme. The order for your liberation will be here to-morrow ; and as 1 am appointed to a brigade on active service, I have come to otter you the post of aide-de-camp." I could not speak ; my heart was too full for words. I knew how great the risk of showing any favour to one who stood in such a p 'sition as I did, and I could but look my gratitude, while the tears ran down my cheeks. " Well," cried he, as lie took my hand in his, " so much 'is settled. Now to another point, and one in which my frankness must cause you no oti'ence. You are. not rich — neither am I ; but Bonaparte always gives us opportunities to gather our epaulettes — ay, and find the bullion to make them too. Meanwhile you may want money " " No, general," cried I eagerly ; " here are three thousand francs some kind friend sent me. I know not whence they came ; and even if I wanted, did not dare to spend them ; but now " The old man paused, and appeared confused, while he leaned his finger on his forehead, and seemed endeavouring to recall some passing thought. " Did they come from you, sir ?" said I, timidly. " No, not from me," repeated he slowly. " You say you never found out the donor?" " Never," said I, while a sense of shame prevented my adding what rose to my mind — could they not be from Mademoiselle de Meudon ? " Well, well," said he, at length, " be it so. And now till to- morrow : I shall be here at noon, and bring the minister's order with me. And so, good-bye." " Good-bye," said I, as I stood overcome with happiness. " Let what will come of it, this is a moment worth living for." TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 277 ■ CHAPTER XXXIX. A MORNING AT ''THE TUILERIES." True to his appointment, the general appeared the following day as the hour of noon was striking. He brought the official papers from the minister of war, as well as the formal letter naming me his aide-de- camp. The documents were all perfectly regular, and being read over by the military commission, I was sent for, when my sword was restored to me by the colonel of the regiment in garrison, and I was free once more. M You have received a severe lesson, Burke," said the general, as he took my arm to lead me towards his carriage, " and all owing to the rashness with which, in times of difficulty and danger, you permitted yourself to form intimacies with men utterly unknown to you. There are epochs when weakness is the worst of evils. You are very young, to be sure, and I trust the experience you have acquired here will serve for a life-time." " Still, sir, in all this sad business my faith never wavered ; my attach merit to the consul was unshaken." " Had it been otherwise, do you think you had been here now ?" said he, drily. " Were not the evidences of your fidelity set off against your folly, what chance of escape remained for you ? No, no ; she who befriended you so steadily throughout this tangled scheme for your ruin, had never advocated your cause were there reason to suppose you were involved in the conspiracy against her husband's life." " Who do you mean ?" said I. " I scarcely understand." " The consulesse, of course. But for Madame Bonaparte you were lost : even since I saw you last, I have learned how deeply interested she became in your fortunes. The letter you received in the Temple came from her, and the enclosure also. And now, with your leave, we can do nothing better than pay our respects to her, and make our acknowledgments for such kindness. She receives at this hour, and will, I know, take your visit in good part." While I professed my readiness to comply with the suggestion, we drove into the court of the Tuileries. It was so early that, except the officers of the consul's staff, and some of those on guard, we were the only persons visible. " We are the first arrivals," said the general, as we drew up at the door of the pavilion. " I am not sorry for it ; we shall have our audience over before the crowd assembles." (Jiving our names to the usher, we mounted the stairs, and passed on from room to room until we came to a large salon, in which seats were formally arranged in a semicircle, an arm-chair somewhat higher than the rest occupying the centre. Several full-length portraits of 278 OUR MESS. the generals of the revolutionary armies adorned the walls, and a striking likeness of the consul himself on horseback held the principal place. I had but time to see thus much, when the two sides of the folding-doors were flung open, and Madame Bonaparte, followed by Mademoiselle de Meudon, entered. Scarcely were the doors closed when she said, smiling — " I heard of your arrival, general, and guessed its purport, so came at once. Monsieur Burke, I am happy to see you at liberty once more." " That I owe it to you, madame, makes it doubly dear to me," said I, faltering. " You must not overrate my exertions on your behalf," replied the consulesse in a hurried voice. " There was an amende due to you for the treatment you met with at Versailles — all Savary's fault ; and now I am sincerely sorry I ever suffered myself to become a party to his schemes. Indeed I never guessed them, or I should not. General D'Auvergne has made you his aide-de-camp, he tells me." " Yes, madame ; my good fortune has showered favours on me most suddenly. Your kindness has been an augury of success in every thing." She smiled, as if pleased, and then said — " I have a piece of advice to give you, and hope you'll profit by it." Then turning towards the general, who all this time was deeply engaged in talking to Made- moiselle de Meudon, she added — " Don't you think, general, that it were as well Monsieur Burke should not be in the way of meeting the consul for some short time to come. Is there any garrison duty, or any service away from Paris, where for a week or so he could remain ?" " I have thought of that, madame," said the general. " Two of the regiments in my brigade are to march to-morrow for the east of France, and I intend my young friend to proceed to Strasbourg at once." " This is not meant for banishment," said she to me, with a look of much sweetness ; " but Bonaparte will now and then say a severe tiling, likely to dwell in the mind of him to whom it was addressed long after the sentiment which dictated it has departed. A little time will efface all memory of this sad affair, and then we shall be happy to see you here again." " Or events may happen soon, madame, by which he may make his own peace with General Bonaparte." " True, very true," said she, gravely. " And as to that, general, what advices are there from Vienna?" .She drew the general aside into one of the windows, leaving me alone with Mademoiselle de Meudon. But a minute before, and t had given the world for such an opportunity, and now I could not speak a syllable. She, too, seemed equally confused, and bent over a large vase of moss roses, as if totally occupied by their arrangement. I drew nearer, and endeavoured to address her, but the words would not come, while a hundred gushing thoughts pressed on me, and my heart beat TOM BURKF. OP " OUR9." 279 loud enougli for me to hear it. At last I saw her lips move, and thought I heard my name ; I bent down my head lower ; it was her voice, but so low as to be scarcely audible. " I cannot thank you, sir, as I could wish," said she, " for the service you rendered me, at the risk of your own life and honour. And though I knew not the dangers you were to incur by my request, I asked it as of the only one I knew who would brave such danger at my asking." She paused for a second, then continued — " The friend of Charles could not but be the friend of Marie de Meudon. There is now another favour I would beg at your hands," said she, while a livid paleness overspread her features. " Oh, name it !" said I, passionately. " Say, how can I serve you?" " It is this," said she, with an accent whose solemnity sank into the very recesses of my heart. " We have ever been an unlucky race. De Meudon is but a name for misfortune : not oidy have we met little else in our own lives, but all who have befriended us have paid the penalty of their friendship. My dear brother knew this well ; and I " She paused, and then, though her lips moved, the words that followed were inaudible. " There is but one on earth," continued she, as her eyes, brimful of tears, were turned towards Madame Bonaparte, who still stood talking in the window, " over whose fortunes my affection has thrown no blight. Heaven grant it may be ever so !" Then suddenly, as if remembering herself, she added — " What I would ask is this — that we should meet no more. Nay, nay, look not so harshly at me. If I, alone in the world, ask to be deprived of his friendship who loved my brother so " " Oh, if you be alone in the world, feel for one like me, who has not even a country he can call his own ? Take not the one hope from my heart, I ask you. Leave me the thought that there is one — but one in all this land, to whom my name, if ever mentioned with praise, can bring one moment's pleasure ; who can say, I knew him. Do not forget that Charles, with his dying breath, said you would be my sister." The door of the salon opened suddenly, and a name was announced, but in my confusion I heard not what. Madame Bonaparte, however, advanced towards the new arrival with an air of welcome, as she said— . " We were just wishing for you, general. Pray tell us all the news of Paris ? " The person thus addressed was a very tall and singularly handsome man, whose dark eyes and dark whiskers, meeting in the middle of his chin, gave him the appearance of an Italian. He was dressed in a hussar uniform, whose gorgeous, braiding of gold was heightened in effect by a blaze of orders and stars that covered the entire breast ; the scarlet pantaloons, tight to the leg, displayed to advantage the perfect- symmetry of his form ; while his boots of yellow morocco, bound and tasselled with gold, seemed the very coquetry of military costume : a sabre, the hilt actually covered with precious stones, clanked at his side, and the aigrette of his plumed hat was a large diamond. There was something almost theatrical in the manner of his approach, as with 280 oun mfss. a t:\tely step and a deep bow he took Madame Bonaparte's hand and kissed it ; a ceremony he repeated to Mademoiselle de Meudon, adding as he did so — " And my fair Rose de Provence — more beautiful than ever! how is she ?" " What flattery is he whispering, Marie?" said the consulesse, laugh- ing. "Don't you know, general, that I insist on all the compliments here being paid to myself. What do you think of my robe ? your judgment is said to be perfect?" " Charming — absolutely charming !" said he, in an attitude of affected admiration. " It is only such taste as yours could have devised any thing so beautiful. Yet the roses — I half think I should have preferred them white." " You can scarcely imagine that vain fellow, with the long ringlets, the boldest soldier of the French army," said the general in a low whisper, as he drew me to one side. " Indeed ! and who is he then ?" " You a hussar, and not know him ! Why, Murat, to be sure." " So then, madame, all my news of Monsieur Talleyrand's ball, it seems, is stale already. You've heard that the Russian and Austrian ministers both sent apologies?" " Oli, dear !" said she, sighing, " have I not heard it a thousand times, and every reason for it canvassed, until I wished both of their excellencies at — at Madame Lefebvre's dinner party." " That was perfect," cried Murat aloud ; " a regular bivouac in a salon. You'd think that the silver dishes and the gilt candelabras had jast been captured from the enemy, and that the cuisine was made by beat of drum." " The general is an honest man and a brave officer," said D'Auvergno, somewhat nettled at the tone Murat spoke in. " No small boast, either," replied the other, shrugging Ins shoulders carelessly, " in the times and the land we live in." "And what of Cambaceres' soiree ■ Y how did it go off?" interposed Madame Bonaparte, anxious to relieve the awkward pause that followed. " Like every thing in his hotel — sombre, stately, and stupid ; the company all dull, who would be agreeable every where else ; the tone of the reception laboured and affected ; and every one dying to get awat to Fouche's. It was his second night for receivinc:." " Was that pleasanter then ?" " A hundred times. There are no parties like his : one meets every body. It is a kind of neutral territory for the Faubourg and the ■ bin — the partizan of our people, and the followers of heaven knows who. Fouche slips about, whispering the same anecdote in confidence to every one, and binding each to secrecy. Then, as every oue COm< ^ there to spy his neighbour, the host has an excellent oppor- tunity of pumping all in turn ; and while they all persist in telling him nothing but lies, they forget that with him no readier road could lead >.o the detection of truth." TOM BURKE " OF OURS. 281 * The consul!" said a servant aloud, as the door opened and closed with a crash, and Bonaparte, dressed in the uniform of the chasseurs of the guard, and covered with dust, entered. " Was Decree here ?" and then, without waiting for a reply, con- tinued — " It is settled — all finally arranged ; I told you, madame, the 'pear was ripe.' I start to-morrow for Boulogne. You, Murat, must accompany me — D'Auvergne, your division will march the day after. Who is this gentleman ?" This latter question, in all its abruptness, was addressed to me, while a dark and ominous frown settled on his features. " My aide-de-camp, sir," said the old general hastily, hoping thus to escape further inquiry. " Your name, sir ?" said the consul harshly, as he fixed his piercing eyes upon me. " Burke, sir ; sous lieutenant " " Of the eighth hussars," continued he. " I know the rest, sir. Every conspiracy is made up of knaves and fools : you figured in the latter capacity. Mark me, sir ; your name is yet to make — the time is approaching when you may have the opportunity : still, General D'Auvergne, it is not in the ranks of a Chouan plot I should have gone to select my staff." " Pardon me, sir ; but this young man's devotion to you " "Is on record, general ; I have seen it in Mehee de La Touche's own writing," added Bonaparte, with a sneer. " Give me the fidelity, sir, that has no tarnish — like your own, D'Auvergne. Go, sir," said he, turning to me, while he waved his hand towards the door. " It will need all your bravery and all your heroism to make me acquit General D'Auvergne of an act of folly." I hung my head in shame, and with a low reverence and a tottering step moved from the room and closed the door behind me. I had just reached the street when the general overtook me. " Come, come, Burke," said he, " you must not mind this. I heard Lannes receive a heavier reproof, because he only carried away three guns of an Austrian battery, when there were four in all." " Bonaparte never forgets, sir," muttered I between my teeth, as the well-remembered phrase crossed my mind. " Then there's but one thing to do, my boy ; give hiin a pleasanter souvenir to look back upon. Besides," added he in a lower tone, " the general is ever harsh at the moment of victory ; and such is the present. In a few days more France will have an Emperor : the senate has declared, and the army wait but for the signal to salute their monarch. And now for your own duties. Make your arrange- ments to start to-night by post for Mayence : I shall join you there in about ten days. You are, on your arrival, to report yourself to the general in command, and receive your instructions from him. A great movement towards the Rhine is in contemplation, but of course every thing awaits the course of political changes in Paris." Thus conversing, we reached the corner of the Rue de Rohan, where the general's quarters were. 282 OUR MESS. " You'll be here then punctually at eight to-night," said he, and we parted. I walked on for some time without knowing which way I went, the strange conflict of my mind so completely absorbed me — hope and fear, pride, shame, and sorrow alternately swaying me with their im- pulses — I noticed not the gay and splendid streets through which I passed, nor the merry groups which poured along. At length I remembered that but a few hours remained for me to make some pur- chases necessary for my journey. My new uniform as aide-de-camp too was yet to be ordered ; and by some strange hazard I was exactly at the corner of the Rue de Richelieu on the Bouvelard, at the very shop of Monsieur Crillac, where, some months before, began the singular current of ill luck that had followed me ever since. A half shudder of fear passed across me for a second as I thought of all the dangers I had gone through, and the next moment I felt ashamed of my cowardice, and pushing the glass door before me, walked in. I looked about me for the well-known face of the proprietor, but he was no where to be seen. A lean and wasted little old man, hung round with tapes and measures, was the only person there. Saluting me with a most re- spectful bow, he asked my orders. " I thought this was Crillac's," said I, hesitatingly. A shrug of the shoulders and a strange expression of the eyebrows was the only reply. ' ; I remember he lived here some eight or ten months ago," said I again, curious to find out the meaning of the man's ignorance of his predecessor. " Monsieur has been away from Paris for some time then ?" was the cautious question of the little man, as he peered curiously at me. " Yes ; I have been aw ay," said I, after a pause. u Monsieur knew Crillac probably when he was here?" '•' I never saw him but once," said I. K Ha!" cried he, after a long silence. " Then you probably never heard of the Chouan conspiracy to murder the chief consul and over- throw the government, nor of their trial at the Palais de Justice?" I nodded slightly, and he went on. " Monsieur Crillac's evidence was of great value in the proceeding: he knew Jules de Polignac and Charles de la Riviere well; and but for him San Victor would have escaped.'' " And what has become of him since?" " He is gone back to the south ; he has been promoted." " Promoted ! — what do you mean ?" " Parbleu ! it is easy enough to understand : he was made chef de bureau in the department of " " What ! — was he not a tailor then ?" " A tailor! — no," said, the little man, laughing heartily; "he was a mnvchard, a police spy, who knew all the royalist party well at hnurdeaux, and Fouche' brought him up here to Paris, and established him in this house. Ah, mon JJitu .'" said he, sighing, " he had a better and a pleasanter occupation than cutting out pantaloons." TOM DURKE OP "OURS." 263 Without heeding the reiterated professions of the little tailor of his desire for my patronage, I strolled out again, lost in reflection, and sick to the heart of a system based on such duplicity and deception. At last in Mayence. What a change of life was this to me. A large fortress garrisoned by twelve thousand men, principally artillery, awaited here the orders of the consul ; but whither the destination before them, or what the hour when the word to march was to summon them, none could tell. Meanwhile the activity of the troops was studiously kept up ; battering trains of field artillery were exercised day after day ; the men were practised in all the movements of the field ; while the foundries were unceasingly occupied in casting guns, and the furnaces rolled forth their myriads of shell and shot. Staff officers came and went ; expresses arrived from Paris, and orderlies, travel- stained and tired, galloped in from the other fortified places near, but still no whisper came to say where the great game of war was to open — for what quarter of the globe the terrible carnage was destined. From daylight till dark no moment of our time was unoccupied; reports innumerable were to be furnished on every possible subject, and fre- quently it was far in the night ere I returned to rest. To others this unbroken monotony may have been wearisome and uninteresting ; to me each incident bore upon the great cause I gloried in — the dull rumble of the caissons, the heavy clattering of the brass guns, were music to my ear, and I never wearied of the din and clamour that spoke of preparation. Such was indeed the pre-occupation of my thoughts, that I scarcely marked the course of events which were even then, passing, or the mighty changes that already moved across the destinies of France. To my eyes the conqueror of Lodi needed no title — what sceptre could equal his own sword ? France might desire in her pride to unite her destinies with such a name as his, but he — the general of Italy and Egypt — could not be exalted by any dignity. Such were my boyish fancies ; and as I indulged them, again there grew up the hope within me that a brighter day was yet to beam on my own fortunes, when I should do that which even in his eyes might seem worthy. His very reproaches stirred my courage and nerved my heart. There was a combat — there was a battle-field before me, in which my whole fame and honour lay ; and could I but succeed in making him confess that he had wronged me, what pride was in the thought. Yes, said I again and again, a devotion to him such as I can offer must have success : one who like me has neither home, nor friends, nor country to share his heart, must have room in it for one pas- sion, and that shall be glory. She whom alone I could have loved — I dared not confess I did love her — never could be mine. Life must have its object, and what so noble as that before me My very dreams caught up the infatuation of my waking thoughts — and images of battle, deadly contests, and terrific skirmishes were constantly passing before me; and I actually went my daily rounds of duty buried in these 284 oun mess. thoughts, and lost to every thing save what ministered to my excited imagination. We who lived far away on the distant frontier could but collect from the journals the state of excitement and enthusiasm into which every class of the capital were thrown by Napoleon's elevation to the monarchy. Never, perhaps, in any country did the current of popular favour run in a stream so united. The army hailed him as their brother of the sword, and felt the proud distinction that the chief of the empire was chosen from their ranks. The civilian saw the restora- tion of monarchy as the pledge of that security which alone was want- ing to consolidate national prosperity. The clergy, however they may have distrusted his sincerity, could not but acknowledge that to his influence was owing the return of the ancient faitli ; and save the \ endeans broken and discomfited, and the scattered remnants of the Jacobin party, discouraged by the fate of Moreau, none raised a voice against him. A few of the old republicans, among whom was Carnot, did, it is true, proclaim their dissent ; but so moderately, and witli so little of partisan spirit, as to call forth an eulogium on their honourable conduct from Napoleon himself. The mighty change which was to undo all the long and arduous struggles lor liberty', which took years in their accomplishment, was effected in one burst of national enthusiasm. Surrounded by nations on whose friendship they dared not reckon — at war with theifmost powerful enemy, England, France saw herself dependent on the genius of one great man ; and beheld, too, the formidable conspiracy for his assassination, coupled with the schemes against her own indepen- dence. He became thus indissolubly linked with her fortunes — self- interest and gratitude pointed both in the same direction to secure his services ; and the imperial crown was indeed less the reward of the past, than the price of the future. Even they who loved him least, felt that in his guidance there was safety ; and that, without him, the prospect was dark, and dreary, and threatening. Another element which greatly contributed to the same effect, was the social ruin caused by the revolution— the destruction of all commerce — the forfeiture of property had thrown every class into the service of the government. .Men gladly advocated a change by which the ancient forms of a monarchy might be restored, and with them the long train of patronage and appointments, their inevitable attendants. Even the old families of the kingdom hailed the return of an order of things which might include them in the favours of the crown ; and the question now was, what rank or class should be foremost in tendering their allegiance to the new sovereign. We should hesitate ere we condemn the sudden impulse by which many were driven at this period. Confiscation and exile had done much to break the spirit of even the hardiest; and the very return to the institutions in which all their ancient prejudices were involved, seemed a pledge against the tyranny of the mass. As for Napoleon himself, each step in his proud career seemed to evoke the spirit necessary to direct it — the resources of his mighty intellect appeared with every new drain on them, only the more TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 285 inexhaustible. Animated through his whole life by the one great prin- ciple, the aggrandizement of France — his vast intelligence gathering strength with his own increase of power, enabled him to cultivate every element of national greatness, and mould their energies to his will, till at length the nation seemed but one vast body, of which he was the heart, the impulse, that sent the life-blood bounding through all its arteries, and with whose beating pulses every, even the most remote portion throbbed in unison. The same day that established the empire, declared the rank and dignity accorded to each member of the royal family, with the titles to be borne by the ministers and other high officers of the crown. The next step was the creation of a new order of nobility — one which, without ancient lineage or vast possessions, could still command the respect and admiration of all — the marshals of France. The names of Berthier, Murat, Augureau, Massena, Bernadotte, Ney, Soult, Lannes, Mortier, Davoust, Bessieres, were enough to throw a blaze of lustre on the order ; and had it not been for the omission of Macdonald's name in this glorious list, public enthusiasm had been complete ; but then he was the friend of Moreau, and Bonaparte " did not forgive." The restoration of the old titles, so long in abeyance, the return to the pomp and state of monarchy, seemed like a national fete, and Paris became the scene of a splendid festivity and a magnificence unknown for many years past. It was necessary for the new court to make its impression on the world, and the endeavour was made by luxury and splendour, to eclipse the grandeur which in the days of the Bourbons was an heirloom of royalty. To this end functionaries and officers of the palace were appointed in myriads — brilliant and costly uniforms adopted — courtly titles and ceremonial observances increased without end — and etiquette, carried to a pitch of strictness which no former reign had ever exhibited, now regulated every department of the state. While, however, nothing was too minute or too trivial, provided that it bore even in the remotest way on the re-estabbshment of that throne he had so long and so ardently desired, Napoleon's great mind was eagerly bent upon the necessity of giving to the empire one of those astounding evidences of his genius, which marked him as above all other men. He wished to show to France that the crown had devolved upon the rightful successor to Charlemagne, and to prove to the army that the purple mantle of royalty could not conceal the spur of the warrior ; and thus while all believed him occupied with the ordinary routine of the period, his ambitious thoughts were carrying him away across the Pyrenees, or beyond the Danube, to battle-fields of even greater glory than ever, and to conquests prouder than all his former ones. The same power of concentrativeness that he so eminently possessed himself, he imparted^as if by magic, to his government. Paris was France. To the capital flocked all whose talent or zeal prompted them to seek for advancement. The emperor was not only the fountain of all honour, but of all emolument and place. No patronage was exer- cised without his permission, and none was conferred without the convic- 286 OUR MESS. tion that some staunch adherent was secured, whose friendship was ratified, or whose former enmity was conciliated. Thus passed the year that followed his accession to the throne — that brilliant pageant of a nation's enthusiasm rendering tribute to the majesty of intellect. At length the period of inaction seemed drawing to a close ; and a greater activity in the war department, and a new levy of troops, betokened the approach of some more energetic mea- sures. Men whispered that the English expedition was about to sail, and reinforcements of ammunition and artillery were despatched to the coast ; when suddenly came the news of Trafalgar : Villaneuve was beaten — his fleet annihilated — the whole combination of events destroyed — and England, again triumphant on the element she had made her own, hurled defiance at the threats of her enemy. The same despatch that brought the intelligence to Mayence told us to be in readiness for a movement, but when or where to none of us could surmise. Still detachments from various corps stationed about were marched into the garrison, skeleton regiments commanded to make up their deficiencies, and a renewed energy was every where perceptible. At last, towards the middle of August, I was sent for by the general in command of the fortress, and informed that General D'Auvergne had been promoted to the command of a cavalry brigade stationed at Coblentz. " You are to join him there immediately," continued he ; "but here is a note from himself, which probably will explain every thing." And with that he handed me a small sealed letter. It was the first, save on purely regimental matters, I had ever received from him, and somehow I felt unusually anxious about its contents. It ran in these words : — "My dear B. — His majesty has just sent for me, and, most graciously esteeming me not yet too old to serve him, has given me the com- mand of a brigade — late the 12th, now to be called ' D'Auvergne' s Cavalry.' I would willingly have mentioned your name for promotion, to which your zeal and activity would well entitle you, but deemed it better to let your claim come before the emperor's personal notice — which an opportunity will, I trust, soon permit of its doing. His majesty, with a kindness which the devotion of a life could not repay, has also interested himself personally for me in a quarter where only his influence could have proved successful — but the explanation of this 1 reserve for your arrival. And now request that you will lose no time in repairing to Paris — where I shall expect to see you by Tuesday — Yours, "D'Auvergne, "Lieut-General." This strange paragraph puzzled me not a little ; nor could I by any exercise of ingenuity find out even a plausible meaning for it. I read it over and over, weighing and canvassing every word, and torturing eacli syllable — but all to no purpose. Had the general been some youthful but unhappy lover, to forward whose suit the emperor had TOM BURKE OF u OURS." 287 lent his influence, then had I understood the allusion, but with the old weather-beaten officer, whose hairs were blanched with years and service, the very thought of such a thing was too absurd. Yet what could be the royal favour so lavishly praised : he needed no interces- sion with the empress — at least I remembered well how marked the kindness of Josephine was towards him in former times. But to what use guessing! Thoughts by long revolving, often become only the more entangled, and we lose sight of the real difficulty in canvassing our own impressions concerning it. And so from this text did I spin away a hundred fancies that occupied me the whole road to Paris, nor left me till the din and movement of the great capital banished all other reflections. Arrangement had been made for my reception at the Rue de Rohan, but I learned that the general was at Versailles with the court, and only came up to Paris once or twice each week. His direction to me wa?, to wait for his arrival, and not to leave the city on any account. With what a strange feeling did I survey the palace of the Tuileries — the scene of my first moment of delighted admiration of her I now loved — and alas, of my first step in the long catalogue of my misfor- tunes. I lingered about the gardens with a fascination I could not account for ; my destiny seemed somehow linked with the spot, and I could not reason myself out of the notion but that there, in that great pile, the fate of my whole life was to be decided. My entire day was passed in this way, and evening found me seated on one of the benches near the windows of the pavilion, where I watched the lustres in the long gallery as one by one they burst into light, and saw the gilt candelabras twinkling as each taper was illumi- nated. It was an evening reception of the emperor, and I could mark the vast assemblage, in every variety of uniform, that filled the salons. At length the drums beat for strangers to leave the gardens, the patrols passed on, and gradually the crowded walks became thinner and thinner, the sounds of the drum grew fainter, and finally the whole space became still and noiseless ; not a voice was to be heard, not a step moved on the gravel. I knew that the gates were now locked, and yet I staid on, glad to be alone, and at leisure to dream away among the fancies that kept ever rising to my mind, and follow out the trains of thought that ever and anon opened before me. As the hour grew later, and the salons filled more and more, the windows Mere opened along the terrace to give air, and I could hear the continued murmur of hundreds of voices conversing, while at times the sound of laughter rose above the rest. What a rush of thoughts came on me as I sat ; how did I picture to myself the dark intrigues, the subtle plots of wily diplomatists, the bold and daring aspirations of the brave soldiers, the high hopes, and the ambitious yearnings, that were all commingled there — grouped around him whose dreams were of universal empire. While I mused the night glided on, and the solemn sound of the bell of Notre Dame proclaimed midnight. I now could mark that the salons were thinning, and the unceasing din of car- riages in the " place" announced the departure of the guests. In little 2RS OUR MESS. more than half an hour the great gallery was empty, and but a few groups remained in the apartments adjoining ; even they soon departed, and then I could see the servants passing from room to room extin- guishing the lights, and soon the great facade of the palace was wrapped in darkness : a twinkling light appeared here and there for some time, but it too went out. The night was calm, and still, and sultry ; not a leaf stirred, and the heavy tread of the sentinels, as they paced the marble vestibule, was heard plainly where I stood. How full of thought to me Mas that vast pile, now shrouded in the gloom of night. What bold ambitious deeds — what dreams of empire had not been conceived there. The great of other days, indeed, entered little into my mind, as I remembered it was the home of him, the greatest of them all. How terrible, too, it was to think, that •w ithin that now silent palace, which seemed sleeping with the tranquil quiet of an humble cottage, the dreadful plans which were to convulse the world, to shake thrones and dynasties, to make of Europe a vast battle-field, were now devising. The masses of dark cloud that hung heavily in the air, obscuring the sky, and shutting out every star, seemed to my fevered imagination an augury of evil ; and the oppressive, loaded atmosphere, though perfumed with the odour of flowers, sunk heavily on the spirits. Again the hour rung out, and I remembered that the gates of the garden were now closed for the night, and that I should remain where I was till daylight liberated me. My mind was, how- ever, too full of its own thoughts to make me care for sleep, and I strolled along the gloomy walks lost in reverie. TOM BURKE OF a OCRS." 269 CHAPTER XL. A NIGHT IN TIIE TUILERIES GARDENS. As tin! niglit wore on, I remembered that once when a boy at the Polyteehnique, I longed to penetrate one of the little enclosures which fenced the small flower-gardens beside the palace, and which were railed up from tiie public promenades by a low iron railing. The bouquets of rich flowers that grew there, sparkling with the light dew of a little jet tTeau that fell in rain drops over them, had often tempted my young heart ; but still, in the day-time such a transgression would have been immediately punished. Now, with the strange caprice which so often prompts us in after years to do that which in youth we wished, but could not do, I wandered towards the gardens, and crossing over the low fence, entered the parterre: each step awoke the sleeping perfume of the flowers, and I strolled along the velvet turf until I reached a low bench, half covered with honeysuckle and woodbine. Here I threw myself down, and, wrapping my cloak around me, resolved to rest till daybreak. The stillness of all around, the balmy air, and my own musings, gradually conspired to make me drowsy, and I slept. My sleep could not have been long, when I was awakened by a noise close beside me. I started up, and looked about, and for some seconds I could scarcely credit that I was not still dreaming. Not more than a dozen paces from where I lay, and where before the dark walls of the palace rose in unbroken blackness, was now a chamber, brilliantly lighted by several wax-lights that stood on a table. At the window, which opened to the ground, and led into the garden, stood the figure of a man, but from his position before the light I could not remark more than that he wore epaulettes. It was the noise of the opening jalousies which awoke me ; and I could see his hand stretched out, as if to ascertain whether or not it was raining. At the table I could perceive another person, on whose uniform the light fell strongly, displaying many a cross and star, which twinkled with every stir he made. He was" busily engaged writing, and never lifted his head from the paper. The walls of the room were covered with shelves, filled with books; and on the chairs about, and even on the floor, lay maps and drawings in every disorder ; a sword and belt, as if just taken off, lay on the table among the writing materials, and a cocked hat beside them. "While I noticed these details my very heart was chill within me. The dark figure at the window, which stirred not, seemed as if turned towards me, and more than once I almost MESS, NO. XXIII. — VOL. II. U ■ 290 OUR MESS. thought I could see his eyes bent upon me. This was, however, but the mere suggestion of my own fears, for in the shade of the seat no light whatever fell, and I was perfectly concealed. In the deep stillness I could hear the scraping sound of the pen on the paper, and scarcely dared to breathe, lest I should cause discovery, when the figure retired from the window, and moved towards the table ; for some minutes he appeared to stoop over a large map, which lay outstretched before him, and across which I could see his finger moving rapidly. Suddenly he stood erect, and in a voice which even now rings within my heart, said — "It must be so, Duroc ; by any other route Bernadotte will be too late !" What was the reply I know not, sucli terror now fell over me. It was the emperor himself who spoke. It was he who the instant before was standing close beside me at the window; and thus, a second time in my life, did I become the unwilling eavesdropper of the man I most feared and respected of all the world. Before I could summon resolution to withdraw, Napoleon spoke again. " Hardenberg J" said he, in a tone of contemptuous passion — " Hardenberg is but a Prussian ; the event will satisfy his scruples ; besides, if they do talk about invasion of territory, you can reply, the Margraves were always open to belli- gerent parties ; remind them of what took place in '96, and again in 1800; though, parbleu, the souvenir may not be so pleasant a one ; protract the discussion, at all events, Duroc — time ! — time !" Then added he, after a brief pause — " Let them advance, and they'll never repass the Danube ; and if they wait for me, I'll fall upon them here — here between Ulm and Augsburg. You must, however, start for Berlin at once." At this instant a heavy hand fell upon my shoul- der, and, passing down my arm, seized me by the wrist. I started back, and beheld a dragoon, for so his helmet and cloak bespoke him, of enormous stature, who, motioning me to silence, led me softly and with noiseless step along the flower-beds, as if fearful of attracting the emperor's notice. My limbs tottered beneath me as I Avent, for the dreadful imputation an accident might fix on me, stared me with all i»s awful consequences. Without a word on either side we reached the little railing, crossed it, and regained the open park, when the soldier, placing himself in front of me, said in a deep low voice — " Your name — who are you ?" " An officer of the huitieme regiment of hussars," said I, boldly. " We shall see that presently," replied he, in a tone of disbelief. " How came you here ?" In a few words I explained how, having remained too late in the garden, I preferred to pass my night on a bench, to the unpleasantness of being brought up before the officer on duty, adding, that it was only on the very moment of his coming that I awoke. u I know that," interrupted he, in a less surly voice. " I found you sleeping, and feared to awake you suddenly, lest in the surprise a word or a cry should escape you — one syllable had cost your head." In the tone of these last few words there was something I thought * TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 29 1 I could recognise, and resolving at a bold venture in such an emer- gency as I found myself placed, I said at a hazard — " The better fortune mine, that I fell into the hands of a kind as well as of a brave soldier — the Corporal Pioche." " Sacristi ! You know me then !" cried he, thunderstruck. " To be sure I do. Could I be an aid-de-camp to the General D'Auvergne, and not have heard of Pioche?" u An aid-de-camp of the general," said he, starting back, as he carried his hand to the salute. " Pardon, mon officier; but you know that duty " " Quite true ; it was all my own indiscretion. And now, Pioche, if you'll keep me company here till daybreak — it cannot be far off now — the light will soon satisfy you that my account of myself is a true one." "Willingly, sir," said the gruff cuirassier : "my patrol is, to watch the parterres from the pavilion to the allee yonder; and, if you please, we'll take up our quarters on this bench." They who know not the strange mixture of deference and familiarity of which the relation between officer and soldier is made up in the French service, will perhaps wonder at the tone of almost equality in which we now conversed. But such is the case ; the revolutionary armies acknowledged no other gradations of rank than such as the service conferred, nor any degree of superiority save that derivable from greater ability, or more daring heroism ; and although no troops more implicitly obeyed the commands of their officers, the occasion of discipline over, a perfect feeling of equality reigned amongst all, whether they wore the epaulettes of colonel, or carried a musket in the ranks. With time, and the changes the consulate had introduced, much of this excessive familiarity was suppressed; still it was no uncommon thing to hear the humble rank and file address the general of division as " thou" — the expression of closest friendship, probably dating from the hours of schoolboy attachment: nor was the officer of rank thought less of, because in the hours of off-duty he mixed freely with those who had been his companions through life, and talked with them as brothers. It is probable that in no other nation such a course could have been practised, without a total subversion of all respect, and the ruin of all habits of order. The Frenchman is, however, essentially military — not merely warlike, like the inhabitants of Great Britain, his mind ever inclines to the details of war as an art. It is in generalship he glories, not the mere conflict of force ; and the humblest soldier of the army takes an interest in the great game of tactics, which in any other people would be quite incredible. Hence, he submits to the control which otherwise he could not endure ; for this, lie yields to command at the hands of one, who, although his equal in all other respects, he here acknowledges as his superior. He knows, too, that the grade of officer is open to merit alone, and he feels that the epaulette may be his own one day. Such causes as these, constantly in operation, could not fail to raise the "morale" of an army ; nor can we wonder that from such a source were derived 292 OUR MESS. many, if not most of the great names that formed the marshals of France. Again, to this military spirit the French owe the perfection of their tirailleur force — the consummate skill of independent parties, of which every campaign gave evidence. Napoleon found this spirit in the nation, and spared nothing to give it its fullest development. He quickly saw to what height of enthusiasm a people could be brought, to whom a cross or a decoration, an epaulette or a sabre of honour, were deemed the ample rewards of every daring and of every priva- tion ; and never in any age, or in any country, was chivalry so univer- sally spread over the wide surface of a people. With them, rank claimed no exemption from fatigue or suffering. The officer fared little better than the soldier, on a march; in a battle, he was only more exposed to danger ; by daring only could he win his way upwards : and an emulative ardour was continually maintained, which was ever giving to the world instances of individual heroism, far more brilliant than all the famed achievements of the crusaders. This brief digression, unnecessary perhaps to many of my readers, may serve to explain to others how naturally our conversation took the easy tone of familiar equality ; nor will they be surprised at the abrupt epiestion of the cuirassier, as he said — " Milles tonnerres ! lieutenant, was it from your liking the post of danger you selected that bench yonder ?" " The choice was a mere accident." " An accident, morbleu /" said he, with a low laugh. " That was what Lasalle called it at the Adige, when the wheel came off the eight-pounder in the charge, and the enemy carried off the gun. 'An accident,' said the 'petit caporal' to him. I was close by when he said it. Will your friends in Paris call it an accident if the ' Orel re du Jour 1 to-morrow, condemn you to be shot ? I know him well," continued Pioche — " that I do ; I was second bombardier with him at Toulon — ay, and at Cairo too. I mind well the evening he came over to our quarters — poor enough we were at the time — no clothes — no rations. I was cook to our division, but somehow there was little duty in my department, till one day the vivandiere's ass — a brave beast lie was, too, before provisions fell short — a spent shot took him in the flank, and killed him on the spot. Sacristi ! what damage it did — all the canteens were smashed to atoms — horn goblets and platters knocked to pieces ; but worst of all, a keg of true Nantz was broached, and every drop lost. Poor Madame Gougon, she loved that ass as if he had been one of the regiment; and though we all offered her assignats on our pay, for a month each, to give us the carcase, she wouldn't do it. No, faith ! she would have him buried, and with funeral honours. Parbleu ! it was a whim ! but the poor thing was in grief, and we could not refuse her. I commanded the party," continued Pioche, "and a long distance we had to march, li >t the shots might be heard in the quartier general. Well, we had some trouble in getting the poor soul away from the grave. Sacristi ! she took it so much to heart, I thought she'd have masses said for ■ TOM IH'RKE OF " OURS." 2 saw that I had awakened the saddest thoughts of the poor fellow's heart, and would have given worlds to be able to recall my question. Here then was the corroding sorrow of his life — the grief that left its impress on his stern features, and tinged with care the open brow of the brave soldier. Each moment our silence was prolonged, made it still more poignant, but I made an effort to break it, and happily with success. " After all, Pioche," said I, laying my hand on his arm, "I would willingly exchange my epaulettes for these stripes on your sleeve: to have had Bonaparte speak, to me as he has done to you, that was a prouder distinction than any other, and will be a fonder recollection, too, hereafter." "Do you think so, mon lieutenant?" said the poor fellow, turning round quickly, as a faint smile played about his features. " Do you think so ? Sacristi ! I have said as much to myself some- times, when I've been alone ; and then I've almost thought I could hear his kind soft voice ringing in my ears — for it is kind and soft as a woman's, when he pleases, though, parbleu ! it can call like a trumpet at other times, ay, and tingle within your heart, till it sets your blood boiling, and makes your hands twitch. I mind well the campaign in the Valais — the words keep dinning in my ears to this hour." " What was that, Pioche," said I, pleased to see him turn from the remembrance of his own regrets. " It is a good while past now — I forget the year exactly — but we were marching on Italy, and it was in spring ; still the ground was covered with snow ; every night came on with a hail-storm, that lasted till nigh daybreak ; and when we arose from the bivouac, we were so stiff and frozen we could not move. They said, at the time, something went wrong with the commissariat, but when did it ever go right, I wonder ? Ammunition and provisions were always late ; and though the general used to drive away a commissary every week or ten days for misconduct, the new ones that came turned out just as bad. The petit caporal kept sending them word to Paris not to send down any more ' savants,' but a good honest man, with common sense and active habits ; but— parbleu ! birds of that feather must have been rare just then, for we never could catch one of them. Whatever was the cause, we never were so ill off; our shakos were like wet paper, and took any shape ; and out of ridicule we used to come upon parade with them fashioned into three-cocked hats, and pointed caps, and slouched beavers. The officers couldn't say a word, you know, all this time : it was not our fault if we were in such misery. Then, as to shoes— a few could boast of the upper leathers, but a sole, or a heel, was not to be found in a company. Our coats were actually in rags, and a pivot sentry looked, for all the world, like a flag staff, as he stood fluttering in the wind. " We bore up, however, as well as we could for some time, grum- bling occasionally over our condition, and sometimes laughing at it, when we had the heart, till at last, when we saw the new convoy 296 OUR MESS. arrive, and all the biscuits distributed among the young regiments and the new conscript ., we could endure it no longer, and a terrible outcry arose among the troops. We were all drawn up on parade — it. was an inspection ; for, parblcu ! though we were as ragged as scarecrows, they would have us out twice a week to review us, and put us through the manoeuvres. Scarcely had the general — it was Bonaparte himself — got half way down the line, when a shout ran from rank to rank — ' Bread ! shoes ! caps ! biscuits !' " ' What do I hear ?' said Bonaparte, standing up in his stirrups, and frowning at the line. ' Who are the malcontents, that dare to cry out on parade ? Let them stand out. Let me see them.' " And at once more than half the regiment of grenadiers sprang forward, and shouted louder than before — ' Bread ! bread ! Let us have food and clothing! If we are to fight, let us not die of hunger !' " < Grenadiers of the fourth,' cried he, in a terrible voice, ' to your ranks ! Second division, and third !' shouted he, with his hand up, ' form in square ! — carry arms ! — present arms ! — front rank, kneel ! — kneel!' said he again, louder ; for you know we never did that in those days. However, every word was obeyed, and down dropped the leading files on their knees, and there we were rooted to the ground. Not a man spoke — all silent as death. " He then advanced to the front of the staff, and pointing his hand to a convoy of waggons that could just be seen turning the angle of the road, with white flags flying, to show what they were, called out — ' Commissary-general, distribute full rations and half ammuni- tion to the young regiments — half rations and full ammunition to the veterans of Egypt!' A shout of applause burst out, but he cried louder than before — 'Silence in the ranks!' Then taking nit' his chapeau, he stood bare-headed before us ; and in a voice, like the bugle that blows the charge, he read from a large paper in his hand— ' In the name of the French republic — one and indivisible. The directory of the nation decrees — that the thanks of the government l>e given to the grenadiers of the fourth, who have deserved well of their country. Vive la republique !' " • Vive la republique !' shouted the whole square in a roar, like the sea itself. Who thought more of hardships or hunger then ? Our only desire was, when we were to meet the enemy ; and many a jest and many a laugh went round, a3 we loaded our pouches with the new ammunition. " ' Who's that fellow yonder ?' said Bonaparte, as he rode slowly down the line. ' I should know him, I think. Isn't that Pioche ?' " 'Yes, mon general,' said I, saluting him. * It is what remains of poor Pioche ; parbleu! very little more than half, though.' " ' Ah ! glutton,' said he laughing, ' I ought to have guessed you were here; one such gourmand is enough to corrupt a whole brigade.' " ' Pioche is a good soldier, citizen general,' said my captain, who was an old schoolfellow of mine. TOM BUKkE OF "ours." 297 " ' I know it, captain,' said the general. " ' You were in Excellnian's dragoons, Pioclio, if I mistake not?' "' Two years and ten months, citizen general.' il( Why did you leave them, and when ?' " ' At Monte Bello, with the colonel's permission.' " ' And the reason ?' " ' Morbleu ! it was a fancy I had. They killed two horses under me that day, and I saw I was not destined for the cavalry.' " ' 11a ! ha 1' said he, wilh a sly laugh ; ' had they been asses, the thing might have been different — eh ?' " ' Yes, mon general,' said I, growing red, for I knew what he meant. " ' Come, Piochc, you must go back again to your old corps ; they want one or two like you — though, purlieu ! you'll ruin the republic in remounts.' " ' As you please it, general.' " ' Well, what shall 1 do for you besides ? Any more commissaries to row — eh ? Methinks no bad time to gratify you in that way.' " ' Ah, mon general, if you would only hang up one, now and then.' " ' So I intend, the next time I hear of any of my soldiers being obliged to eat the asses of the vivandieres,' and with that he rode on laughing, though none, save myself, knew what he alluded to, and ma jut ! I was not disposed to turn the laugh against myself by telling; but there goes the reveillce, and I must leave you, mon lieutenant, the gates will be open in a few minutes." " Good-bye, Pioche," said I, " and many thanks for your pleasant company, 1 hope we shall meet again and soon." " 1 hope so, mon lieutenant ; and if it be at a bivouac fire, all the better." The gallant corporal made his military salute, wheeled about, stiff as if on parade, and departed ; while I, throwing my cloak over my arm, turned into the broad alley and left the garden. 298 OUR MESS. CHAPTER XLI. A STORY OF THE '92. „ found every thing in the Rue de Rohan as I had left it the day before. General D'Auvergne had not been there during my absence, but a messenger from Versailles brought intelligence that the court would arrive that evening in Paris, and in all likelihood the general would accompany them. My day was then at my own disposal, and having dressed, I strolled out to enjoy all the strange and novel sights of the great capital. They who can carry their memories back to Paris at that period, may remem- ber the prodigious amount of luxury and wealth so prodigally ex- hibited — the equipages, the liveries, the taste in dress, were all of the most costly character — the very shops, too, vied with each other in the splendour and richness of their display, and court uniforms and ornaments of jewellery glittered in every window. Hussar jackets in all their bravery — chapeaus covered with feather trimming and looped with diamonds — sabres with ivory scabbards encrusted with topaz and torquoise, replaced the simple costumes of the revolutionary era, as rapidly as did the high-sounding titles of " excellence" and " monseigneur," the unpretending designation of " citoyen." Still the military feature of the land was in the ascendant : in the phrase of the day, it was the " moustache" that governed. Not a street had not its group of officers, on horseback or on foot — regiments passed on duty, or arrived from the march at every turn of the May. The very rabble kept time and step as they followed, and the warlike spirit animated every class of the population. All these things ministered to my en- thusiasm, and set my heart beating the stronger for the time, when the career of arms was to open before me. This, if I were to judge from all I saw, could not now be far distant. The country for miles around Paris was covered with marching men, their faces all turned eastward — orderlies, booted and splashed, trotted rapidly from street to street, and general officers, with their aid-de-camps, rode up and down with a haste that boded preparation. My mind was too full of its own absorbing interests to make me care to visit the theatre, and having dined in a cafe on the Boulevard, I turned towards the general's quarters, in the hope of finding him arrived. As I entered the Rue de Rohan, I was surprised at a crowd collected about the door, watching the details of packing a travelling carriage which stood before it. A heavy fourgon loaded with mili- tary chests and boxes, seemed also to attract their attention, and call forth many a surmise as to its destination. TOM BURKE CF " OURS." 299 " Le petit caporal has something in his head, depend upon it." said a thin dark-whiskered fellow with a wooden leg, and whose air and gesture bespoke the old soldier — " the staff never move off, extra post, without a good reason for it." " It is the English are about to catch it this time," said a miserable- looking decrepid creature, who was occupied in roasting chestnuts over an open stove. " Hot, all hot, messieurs and mesdaraes, real ' mar- rons de Nancy' — the true and only veritable chestnuts with a truffle riavour. — Sacristi ! now the sea wolves will meet their match. It is such brave fellows as you, monsieur le grenadier, can make them tremble." The old pensioner smoothed down his moustache and made no reply. " The English indeed," said a fat, ruddy-faced woman, with a slight line of dark beard on her upper lip : " my husband's a pioneer in the twenty-second, and says they're nothing better than poltroons — how we made them run at Areola — wasn't it Areola ?" said she, as a buzz of laughter ran through the crowd. " Tonnerre de guerre," cried the little man, " if I was at them." A loud burst of merriment met this warlike speech, while the maimed soldier, apparently pleased with the creature's courage, smiled blandly on him as he said — " Let me have two sous worth of your chestnuts." Leaving the party to their discussion, I now entered the house, and edging my way up stairs between trunks and packing-cases, arrived at the drawing-room. The general had just come in ; he had been the whole morning at court, and was eating a hurried dinner in order to return to the Tuilcries for the evening reception. Although his man- ner towards me was kind and cordial in the extreme, I thought he looked agitated and even depressed, and seemed much older and more broken than before. " You see, Burke, you'll have little time to enjoy Paris gaieties — we leave to-morrow." " Indeed, sir ; so soon." " Yes, Lasalle is off already ; Dorsenne starts in two hours ; and we three, rendezvous at Coblentz. I wished much to see you," continued he. after a minute's pause ; " but I could not get away from \ er- saiiles even for a day. Tell me, have you got a letter I wrote to you when at Mayence. I mean, is it still in existence ?" " Yes, sir," said I, somewhat astonished at the question. " I wrote it hurriedly," added he, with something of confusion in his manner — " do let me see it." I unlocked my writing desk at once and handed him his own letter. He opened it hastily, and having thrown his eyes speedily across it, said, and in a voice far more at ease than before — " That will do. I feared lest perhaps but no matter. This is better than I thought." With this he gave the letter buck into my hands, and appeared for some moments engaged in deep thought ; then with a voice and 300 OUR MESS. manner which showed a different channel was given to his thoughts, he said — " The game has opened — the Austrians have invaded Bavaria. The whole disposable force of Franoe is on the inarch — a hurried move- ment — but so it is — Napoleon always strikes, like his own emblem, the eagle. " True, sir ; but even that serves to heighten the chivalrous feeling of the soldier, when the sword springs from the scabbard at the call of honour, and is not drawn slowly forth at the whispered counsel of some wily diplomate." lie smiled half mournfully at the remark, or at my impetuosity in making it, as he said — " My dear boy, never flatter yourself that the cause of any war can enter into the calculation of the soldier. The liberty he fights for, is often the rankest tyranny — the patriotism he defends, the veriest op- pression. Play the game as though the stake were but your own ambition, if you would play it manfully. As for me, I buckle on the harness for the last time ■ come what will of it. The emperor feels, and justly feels, indignant that many of the older officers have declined the service by which alone they were elevated to rank, and wealth, and honour. It w r as not then at the moment when he distin- guished me by an unsought promotion, still more, conferred a personal favour on me, that I could ask leave to retire from the army." By the tone in which he said these last few words I saw that the general was now approaching the topic I felt so curious about, and did not venture by a word to interrupt or divert his thoughts from it, My calculation proved correct; for after meditating some eight or ten minutes, he drew his chair closer to mine, and in a voice of ill- repressed agitation spoke thus : — " You doubtless know the history of our great revolution, the causes that led to, the consequences that immediately sprung from it — the terri- ble anarchy, the utter confiscation of wealth, and worse still, the social disorganization that invaded every family, however humble, or however exalted; setting wives against their husbands, children against their parents, and making brothers sworn enemies to each other. It was in vain for any man once engaged in the struggle, to draw back ; the least hesitation to perform any order of the convention — the delay of a moment, to think, was death ; some one was ever on the watch to de- nounce the man thus deliberating, and he was led forth to the guillo- tine like the blackest criminal. The immediate result of all this was a distrust that pervaded the entire nation. No one knew who to speak to, nor dared any confide in him who once had been his dearest friend. The old royalists trembled at every stir — the few demonstrations they forced themselves to make of concurrence in the new state of things, were received with suspicion and jealousy. The 'Blues,' for so the revolutionary party was called, thirsted for their blood ; the aristo- cracy had been, as they deemed, long- their oppressors ; and where veng< ance ceased, cupidity begun. They longed to seize upon the Confiscated estates, and revel as masters in the halls where so oft they TOM BUUKE OP " OUIIS." 301 had waited as lacqueys. But the evil ended not here — wherever pri- vate hate, or secret malice lurked, an opportunity for revenge now offered, and for one head that fell under the supposed guilt of treason to Prance, a hundred dropped beneath the axe, from causes of personal animosity and long-nurtured vengeance; and thus many an idle word uttered in haste or carelessness, some passing slight, some chance neglect, met now its retribution, and that retribution was ever death. '■ it chanced that in the south, in one of those remote districts, where intelligence is always slow in arriving, and where political movements rarely disturb the quiet current of daily life, ihere lived one of those old seigneurs who, at that period*, were deemed sovereign princes in the little locale they inhabited. The soil had been their own for cen- turies — long custom had made them respected and looked up to — while the acts of kindness and benevolence in which from father to son their education consisted, formed even a stronger tie to the affections of the peasantry. The church, too, contributed not a little to the maintenance of this feudalism, and the "chateau" entered into the subject of the vil- lage prayers, as naturally as though a very principle of their faith. There v, as something beautifully touching in the intercourse between the lord of the soil and its tillers — in the kindly interest of the one, repaid in reverence and devotion by the others : his foresight for their benefit — their attachment and fidelity; the paternal care, the filial love, made a picture of rural happiness such as no land ever equalled, such as perhaps none will ever see again. The seigneur of whom I speak, Mas a true type of this class — he had been, in his boyhood, a page at the gorgeous court of Lotus XV., mixed in the voluptuous fasci- nations of the period — but early disgusted by the sensuality of the day, retired to his distant chateau, bringing with him a wife, one of the most beautiful and accomplished persons of the court, but one who, like himself, preferred the peace and tranquillity of a country life to the whirlwind pleasures of a vicious capital. For years they lived childless ; but at last, after a long lapse of time, two children were born to this union, a boy and girl, both lovely, and likely, in every respect, to bless them with happiness. Shortly after the birth of the; girl, the mother became delicate, and after some months of suffering, died. The father, who never rallied from the hour of her death, and took little interest in the world, soon followed her, and the children were Lit orphans, when the eldest was but four years of age, and his sister but three. Before the count died lie sent for his steward — you know that the steward, or intend ant, in France, was formerly the person of greatest trust in any family, the faithful adviser in times of diffi- culty, the depository of secrets, the friend, in a word, who in humble guise offered his counsel in every domestic arrangement, and without whom no project was entertained or determined on, and usually the office was hereditary, descending from father to son for centuries. "In this family such was the case, his father and grandfather be- fore him had filled the office, and Leon Guichard well knew every tradition of the house, and from his infancy his mind had been stored with tales of its ancient wealth and former greatness. His father had 302 ouit mess. died but a short time previous, and when the count's last illness seized him, Leon was only in the second year of his stewardship. Brief as the period was, however, it had sufficed to give abundant proof of his zeal and ability. New sources of wealth grew up under his judicious management — improvements were every where conspicuous; and while the seigneur himself found his income increased by nearly one half, tbe tenants had gained in equal proportion, such was the result of his ivity and intelligence. These changes, marvellous as they may seem, were then of frequent occurrence — the lands of the south had ,i tilled for centuries without any effort at improvement — sons were tent to go on as their fathers had done before them — increased civi- lization, with its new train of wants and luxuries, never invaded this remote, untravelled district, and primitive tastes and simple habits succeeded each other generation after generation unaltered and un- changed. Suddenly, however, a new light broke on the world, which penetrated even the darkness of the far-off valleys of La Provence. Intelligence began to be more widely diffused — men read and reflected — the rudiments of every art and every science were put within the reach of humble comprehensions ; and they who before were limited to memory or hearsay for such knowledge as they possessed, could now apply at the fountain for themselves. Leon Guichard was not slow in cultivating these new resources, and applying them to the circum- stances about him; and although many an obstacle arose, dictated by stupid adherence to old customs, or fast-rooted prejudice against new- fashioned methods — by perseverance he overcame them all, and actually enriched the people in spite of themselves. " The seigneur, himself a man of no mean intellect, saw much of this with sorrow — he felt that a mighty change was accomplishing, and that a-* one by one the ancient landmarks by which men had been guided for ages were removed, none could foresee what results might follow, nor where the passion for alteration might cease. The superstitions of tiic church, harmless in themselves, were now openly attacked ; its observances, before so deeply venerated, were even assailed as idle ceremonies, and it seemed as if the strong cable that bound men to faith and loyalty had parted, and that their minds were drifting over a broad and pathless sea. Such was the ominous opening of the revo- lution, such the terrible ground swell before the storm. " On his death-bed, then, he entreated Leon to be aware that evil days were approaching — that the time was not distant when men should rely upon the affection and love of those around them, on the ties that attached them to each other for years long, on the mutual inti rests that had grown up from their cradles — he besought him to turn the people's minds, as far as might be, from the specious theories that were afloat, and fix them on their once-loved traditions — and, above all, he charged him, as the guardian of his orphan children, to keep them aloof from the contamination of dangerous doctrines, and to train them up in the ancient virtues of their house, in charity and benevolence. " Scarce had the old count's grave closed over him, when men began TOM BURKE OF " OUItS." 303 to perceive a marked change in Leon Guichard ; no longer humble even to subserviousness as before, he now assumed' an air of pride and haughtiness that soon estranged his companions from him. As guar- dian to the orphan children, he resided in the chateau, and took on him the pretensions of the master. Its stately equipage, with great emblazoned panels, the village wonder at every fete-day, was now replaced by a more modern vehicle, newly arrived from Paris, in which Monsieur Guiehard daily took his airings. The old servants, many of them born in the chateau, were sent adrift, and a new and very different elass succeeded them; all was changed, even the little path that led up from the presbytere to the chateau, and along which the old cure Mas seen wending his way on each Sunday to his dinner with the seigneur, was now closed — the gate walled up — while the Sabbath itself Mas only dedicated to greater festivities and excess, to the scandal of the villagers. " Meanwhile, the children grew up in strength and beauty ; like wild flowers, they had no nurture, but they flourished in all this neglect, ignorant and unconscious of the scenes around them. They roved about the live-long day through the meadows, or that wilderness of a gar- den, on which no longer any care was bestowed, and where rank luxuriance gave a beauty of its own to the rich vegetation. With the unsuspecting freshness of their youth, they enjoyed the present, without a thought of the future — they loved each other, and were happy. To them the vague reports and swelling waves of the revolution, which each day gained ground, brought neither fear nor apprehension ; they little dreamed that the violence of political strife could ever reach their quiet valleys ; nor did they think the hour was near when the tramp of soldier}', and the ruffian shout of predatory war were to replace the song of the vigneron, and the dance of the villager. The revolution came at last, sweeping like a torrent over the land — it blasted as it went — beneath its baneful breath every thing withered and wasted — loyalty, religion, affection, and brotherly love — all died out in the devoted country — anarchy and bloodshed were masters of the scene. The first dreadful act of this fearful drama passed like a dream to those, who, at a distance from Paris, only read of the atrocities of that wretched capital ; but when the wave rolled nearer, when crowds of armed men, wild and savage in look, with ragged uniforms and blood-stained hands, prowled about the villages, where in happier times a soldier had never been seen — when the mob around the guillotine supplied the place of the gathering at the market — when the pavement Mas Avet and slippery with human blood — men's natures suddenly became changed, as though some terrible curse from on high had fallen on them — their minds caught up the fearful contagion of revolt, and a mad impulse to deny all they had once held sacred and venerable, seized on all. Their blasphemies against religion Ment hand in hand with their desecration of every thing holy in social life, and a pre- eminence in guilt became the highest object of ambition. Sated with slaughter, bloated with crime, the nation reeled like a drunken Ravage over the ruin it created, and with the insane lust of blood, poured 304 OUlt MESS. forth its armed thousands throughout the whole of Europe. Then began the much-boasted triumphs of the revolutionary armies — the landed victories of those great assertors of liberty — s;iy, rather, the carnage of famished wolves — the devastating rage of blood-thirsty maniacs. The conscription seized on the whole youth of France, as if fearful that in the untarnished minds of the young the seeds of better tilings might bear fruit in season. They carried them away to scenes of violence and rapine, where, amid the shouts of battle and the cries of the dying, no voice of human sympathy might touch their hearts, no trembling of remorse should stir within them. "'You are named in the conscription, monsieur,' said Leon, in a short, abrupt tone, as one morning he entered the dressing-room of his young master. "'Me ! I named in the conscription !' replied the other, with a look. of incredulity and anger. ' This is but a sorry jest, Master Leon, and not in too good taste, either.' " ' Good or bad,' answered the steward, ' the fact is as I say, here is the order from the mimicipale ; you were fifteen, yesterday, you know.' " ' True ; and what then ; am I not Marquis de Neufchatel, Count de Rochefort, in right of my mother?' " ' There are no more marquises, no more counts,' said the oilier roughly ; 'France has had enough of such cattle; the less you allude to them the safer for your head.' " lie spoke truly, the reign of the aristocracy was ended ; and while they were yet speaking, an emissary of the convention, accompanied by a party of trooDS, arrived at the chateau to fetch away the newly- drawn conscript. " I must not dwell on the scene which followed. The heart-rending sorrow of those who had lived but for each other, now torn asunder for the first time, not knowing when, if ever, they were to meet again. His sister wished to follow him, but even had he permitted it, such would have been impossible. The dreadful career of the revolu- tionary soldier was an obstacle insurmountable. The same evening the battalion of infantry to which he was attached began their march towards Savoy, and the lovely orphan of the chateau fell danger- ously ill. " Youth, however, triumphed over her malady, which indeed was brought on by grief; and after some weeks, she was again restored to health. During the interval, nothing could be more kind and atten- tive than Leon (iuichard ; his manner, of late years rough and uncivil, became softened and tender; the hundred little attentions which ill— ness seeks for, he paid with zeal and watchfulness; every thing which could alleviate her sorrow or calm her afflicted mind, was resorted to, with a kind of instinctive delicacy, and she began to feel that in her long-cherished dislike of the intendant, she had done him grievous wrong. " This change of manner attracted the attention of many besides the inhabitants of the chateau. They remarked his altered looks and TOM BUUK.E OF " OURS." 305 bearing, the more studied attention to his dress and appearance, and the singular difference in all his habits of life ; no longer did he pass his time in the wild orgies of debauchery and excess, but in careful management of the estate, and rarely or never left the chateau after nightfall. " A hundred different interpretations were given to this line of act- ing : some said that the more settled condition of political affairs had made him cautious and careful, for it was now the reign of the Directory, and the old excesses of the '92 were no longer endured ; others, that he was naturally of a kind and benevolent nature, and that his savage manner and reckless conduct were assumed merely in compliance with the horrible features of the time. None, however suspected the real cause. Leon Guichard was in love ! Yes, the humble steward, the coarse follower of the vices of that detestable period was captivated by the beauty of the young girl, now springing into womanhood. The freshness of her artless nature, her guileless innocence, her soft voice, her character so balanced between gaiety and ^houghtfulness, her loveliness, so unlike all he had ever seen before, had seized upon his whole heart; and, as the sun darting from behind the blackest clouds will light up the surface of a bleak landscape, touching every barren rock and tipping every bell of purple heath villi colour and richness, so over his rugged nature the beauty of this fair girl shed a very halo of light, and a spirit awoke within him to seek for better things, to endeavour better things, to fly the coarse de- praved habits of his former self, to conform to the tastes of her he worshipped. Day by day his stern nature became more softened. No longer those terrible bursts of passion, to which he once gave way, escaped him ; his voice, his very look, too, was changed in its expres- sion, and a gentleness of manner almost amounting to timidity, now characterised him who had once been the type of the most savage Jacobin. " She to whom this wondrous change was owing knew nothing of the miracle she had worked ; she would not, indeed, have believed, had any one told her. She scarcely remarked him when they met, and did not perceive that he was no longer like his former self; her whole soul wrapped up in her dear brother's fate, she lived from week to week in the thought of his letters home. It is true her life had many enjoyments which owed their source to the intendant's care ; but she knew not of this, and felt more grateful to him when he came letter in hand from the little post of the village, than when the fair moss roses of spring filled the vases of the salon, or the earliest fruits of summer decked her table. At times, something in his demeanour would strike her a tinge of sorrow it seemed rather than .aiteht else; but as she attributed this, as every other grief, to her brothers- absence, she paid no further attention to it, and merely thought good Leon had more feel- ing than they used to give him credit for. " At last, the campaign of Areola over, the young soldier obtained a short leave to see his sister. How altered were they both : she from the child had become the beautiful girl ; her eyes flashing with the MESS NO. XXIII. — VOL. II. x 306 OUB MESS. brilliant sparkle of youth, her step elastic, her colour changing with every passing expression. He was already a man, bronzed and sun- burnt ; his dark eyes darker, and his voice deeper, but still his former self in all the warmth of his affection to his sister. " The lieutenant, for so was he always called by the old soldier who accompanied him as his servant, and oftentimes by the rest of the household, had seen much of the world in the few years of his absence. " The chances and changes of a camp had taught him many things which lie far beyond its own limits, and he had learned to scan men's minds and motives, with a quick eye and ready wit. He was not long therefore in observing the alteration in Leon Guichard's manner, nor was he slow in tracing it to its real cause. At first, the sudden impulse of his passion would have driven him to any length ; the pre- sumption of such a thought was too great to endure — but then the times he lived in taught him some strong lessons ; he remembered the scenes of social disorder and anarchy of his childhood; how every rank became subverted, and how men's minds were left to their own unbridled influences to choose their own position, and he bethought him, that in such trials as these, Leon had conducted himself with moderation ; that to his skilful management it was owing, if the property had not suffered confiscation like so many others, and that it was per- haps hard to condemn a man for being struck by charms, which, how- ever above him in the scale of rank, were still continually before his Reasoning thus, he determined as the wisest course, to remove his sister to the house of a relative, where she could remain during his absence. This would at once put a stop to the steward's folly — for so he could not help deeming it — and what was of equal conse- quence in the young soldier's eyes — prevent his sister being offended by ever suspecting the existence of such a feeling towards her. The plan once resolved on, met no difficulty from his sister; his promise to return soon to see her was enough to compensate for any arrange- ment, and it was determined that they should set out towards the south by the first week in September. " When the intimation of this change first reached Leon, which it did from the other servants, he could not believe it, and resolved to hasten to the lieutenant himself, and ask if it were true. On that day, however, the young soldier was absent shooting, and was not to return before night. Tortured with doubt and fear, trembling at the very thought of her departure — whose presence had been the load-star of Iii s life — he rushed from the house and hurried into the wood. Every spot reminded him of her, and he shuddered to think that in a few hours hi* existence would have lost its spring. That ere the week was past, he would be alone without the sight of her, whom, even to have seen, constituted the happiness of the whole day. Revolving such sad thoughts, he strolled on, not knowing whither, and at last,on turning the angle of a path, found himself before the object of his musings ; she was returning from a farewell visit to one of the cottagers, and was hastening to the chateau to dress for dinner. TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 307 " ' Ah ! Monsieur Leon,' said she, suddenly, ' I am glad to meet you here — these poor people at the wooden bridge will miss me, I fear ; you must look to them in my absence — and, there is old Jeanette — she fancies she can spin still — I pray you let her have her little pension regularly. The children at Calotte, too, they are too far from the school — mind that they have their books.' " ' And are you indeed going from hence, mademoiselle ?' said he, in a tone and accent so unlike his ordinary one, as to make her start with surprise. " ' Yes, to be sure. "We leave the day after to-morrow.' " ' And have you no regret, mademoiselle, to leave the home of your childhood and those you have known there ?' " ' Sir !' replied she haughtily, as the tone of his voice assumed a meaning which could not be mistaken, 'you seem to have forgotten your- self somewhat, or you had not dared ' " ' Dared !' interrupted he, in a louder key — ' dared — I have dared more than that. Yes,' cried he in a voice where passion could be no longer held under — ' Leon Guichard, the steward, has dared to love his master's daughter. Start not so proudly back, madame. Time was when such an avowal had been a presumption death could not repay, but these days are past. The haughty have been well humbled ; they who deemed their blood a stream too pure to mingle with the current in plebeian veins, have poured it lavishly beneath the guillotine. Leon Guichard has no master now !' " The fire flashed from his eyes as he spoke, and his colour, pale at first, grew darker and darker, till his face became almost purple, while his nostrils, swelled to twice their natural size, dilated and contracted like those of a fiery charger. Terrified at the frightful paroxysm of passion before her, the timid girl endeavoured to allay his anger, and replied — " J You know well, Leon, that my brother has ever treated you as a friend ' " ' He — a friend !' cried he, stamping on the ground, while a look of demoniac malice lit up his features. — ' He, who talks to me as though I were a vassal, a slave ; he, who deems his merest word of approval a recompense for all my labour, all my toil ; he, whose very glance shoots into my heart like a dagger. Think you, I forgive him the contemp- tuous treatment of nineteen years, or that I can pardon insults because they have grown into habits. Hear me,' he grasped her wrist rigidly as he spoke, and continued, ' I have sworn an oath to be revenged on him from the hour when a boy, scarce eight years old, he struck me on the face and called me canaille. I vowed his ruin. I toiled for it, I strove for it, and I succeeded — ay, succeeded. I obtained from the Convention the confiscation of your lands — all — every thing you possessed. I held the titles in my possession, for I was the owner of this broad chateau — ay — Leon Guichard — even so. You were but my guest here. I kept it by me many a day, and when your brother was drawn in the conscription, I resolved to assert my right before the world.' He paused for a moment, while a tremendous convulsion shook his frame, and made him tremble like one in an ague ; then 30? OUR MESS. suddenly rallying, ho passed his hand across his brow, and in a lower voice resumed — ' I would have done so but for you.' u * For me ! — what mean you?' said she, almost sinking with terror. "' I loved you — loved you as only he can love who can surrender all his cherished hopes — his dream of ambition — his vengeance even, to his love. I thought too that you were not cold to my advances ; and fearing lest any hazard should apprise you of my success, and thus run counter to my wishes, I lived on here as your servant, still hoping for the hour when I might call you mine, and avow myself the lord of this chateau. How long I might have continued thus I know not. To see you, to look on you, to live beneath the same roof with you, seemed happiness enough, but when I heard that you were to leave this, to go away, never to return perhaps, or if so, not as her I loved and wor- shipped, then . But why look you thus ? Is it because you doubt these things? Look here — see this. Is that in form? Are these signatures authentic ? Is that the seal of the National Convention ? What say you now? It is not the steward Leon that sues, but the Citizen Guichard — proprietaire de Rochefort. Now methinks that makes some difference in the proposition.' " ' None, sir,' replied she, with a voice whose steady utterance made each word sink into his heart ; ' save as it adds to my contempt for him who has dared to seek my affection in the ruin of my family. I did but despise you before ' " ' Beware,' said he, in a voice of menace, but in which no violence of passion entered, ' you are in my power. I ask you again, will you consent to be my wife ? Will you save your brother from the scaffold, and yourself from beggary and ruin — I can accomplish both.' " A look of ineffable scorn was all her reply ; when he sprang forward and threw his arm round her waist — " ' Or would you drive me to the worst ' " A terrific shriek broke from her as she felt his hand around her, when the brushwood crashed behind her, and her brother's dogs sprang from the thicket. With a loud cry she called upon his name ; he answered from the wood, and dashed towards her just as she sank fainting to the ground. — Leon was gone. " As soon as returning strength permitted, she told her brother the fearful story of the steward ; but bound him by every entreaty not to come himself in contact with a monster so depraved. When they reached the chateau, they learned that Guichard had been there and. left it again; and from that hour they saw him no more. " I must now conclude in a few words, and to do so, may mention, that in the year '99> I became the purchaser of Haute Rochefort, at a sale of forfeited estates, it having been bought by government on some previous occasion, but from whom, and how, I never learned. The story I have told I learned from the notaire of Ilubane, the village in the neighbourhood, who was conversant with all its details, and knew well the several actors in it, as well as their future fortunes. " The brother became a distinguished officer, and rose to some rank in the service, but embarking in the expedition to Ireland, was reported TOM BURKE OF "OITRS." 309 (o Bonaparte as having betrayed the French cause. The result was, lie was struck off the list of the army, and pronounced degraded ; he died in some unknown place. " The sister became attached to her cousin, but the brother oppos- ing the union, she was taken away to Paris; the lover returned to Bretagne, where having heard a false report of her marriage at court, he assumed holy orders, and being subsequently charged, but it is now believed falsely, of corresponding with the Bourbons, was shot in his own garden by a platoon of infantry. But how is this ; are you ill ; has my story so affected you ?" " That brother was my friend — my dearest, my only friend Charles de Meudon." " What ! and did you know poor Charles ?" But I could not speak ; the tears ran fast down my cheeks, as 1 thought of all his sorrows — sorrows far greater than ever he had told me. " Poor Marie," said the general, as he wiped a tear from his eye ; "few have met such an enemy as she did : every misfortune of her life has sprung from one hand ; her brother — her lover's death, were both his acts." " Leon Guichard ! And who is he ? or how could he have done these things ?" " Methinks you might yourself reply to your own question." " I ! how could that be ? I know him not." " Yes, but you do : Leon Guichard is Mehee de La Touche !" Had a thunderbolt fallen between us, I could not have felt more terror. That name spoken but twice or thrice in my hearing, had each time brought its omen of evil. It was the same with whose ac- quaintance Marie de Meudon charged me in the garden at Versailles, the same who brought the Chouans to the guillotine, and had so nearly involved myself in their ruin ; and now I heard of him as one whose dreadful life had been a course of perfidy and crime, one who blasted all around him, and scattered ruin as he went. " I have little more to add," resumed the general, after a long pause, and in a voice whose weakened accents evinced how fearfully the remembrance he called up, affected him. " What remains, too, more immediately concerns myself than others. I am the last of my house — an ancient family, and one not undistinguished in the annals of France, hangs but on the feeble thread of a withered and broken old man's life, with whom it dies ; my only brother fell in the Austrian campaign. — I never had a sister; uncles and cousins I have had in numbers, but death and exile have been rife these last twenty years, and save myself, none bears the name of D'Auvergne. Yet once I nourished the hope of a family — of a race who should hand down the ancient virtues of our house to after years. I thought of those gallant ancestors whose portraits graced the walls of the old chateau I was born in, and fancied myself leading my infant boy from picture to picture, as I pointed out the brave and the good, who had been his 310 OUR MESS. forefathers. But this is a dream long since dispelled. I was then a youth, scarce older than yourself, rich, and with every prospect of happiness before me ; I fell in love, and the object of my passion seemed one created to have made the very paradise I sought for. She was beautiful, beyond even the loveliest of a handsome court ; highborn and gifted ; but her heart was bestowed on another, — one who unlike myself, encouraged no daring thoughts, no ambitious long- ings, but who, wholly devoted to her he loved, sought in tranquil quiet the happiness such spirits can give each other. She told me herself, frankly, as I speak now to you, that she could not be mine, and then placed my hand in her husband's. This was Marie de Roche- fort, the mother of Mademoiselle de Meudon. " The world's changes seem ever to bring about these strange vi- cissitudes by which our early deeds of good and evil are brought more forcibly to our memories, and we are made to think over the past by some accident of the present. After twenty years I came to live in that chateau where she, whom I once loved, had lived and died. I became the lord of that estate which her husband once possessed, and where in happiness they had dwelt together. I will not dwell upon the thoughts such associations ever give rise to ; I dare not, old as I am, evoke them." He paused for some minutes, and then went on — " Two years ago I learned that Mademoiselle de Meudon was the daughter of my once loved Marie; from that hour I felt no longer childless ; I watched over her, without however attracting notice on her part, and followed her everywhere ; the very day I saw you first at the Polytechnique I was beside her. From all I could learn and hear, her life had been one of devoted attachment to her brother, and then to Madame Bonaparte ; her heart, it was said, was buried with him she once loved, at least none since had ever won even the slightest acknowledgment from her, bordering on encouragement. " Satisfied that she was every thing I could have wished my own daugh- ter, and feeling that with youth the springs of affection rarely dry up, I conceived the idea of settling all my property on her, and entreating the emperor to make me her guardian, with her own consent of course. He agreed ; he went further ; he repealed, so far as it concerned her, the law by which the daughters of royalists cannot inherit, and made her eligible to succeed to property, and placed her hand at my disposal. " Such was the state of matters when I wrote to you ; since that I have seen her, and spoken to her in confidence ; she has consented to every portion of the arrangement, save that which involves her marrying ; but some strange superstition being over her mind that her fate is to ruin all with whom it is linked, that her name carries an evil destiny with it, she refuses every offer of marriage, and will not yield to my solicitation. " I thought," said the general, as he leaned on his hand, and mut- tered half aloud, " that I had conceived a plan which must bring happiness with it ; but, however, one part of my design is accomplished, TOM BURKE OP " OUR9." 311 she is my heir — the daughter of my own loved Marie is the child of my adoption, and for this I have reason to feel grateful. The cheer- less feeling of a death-bed, where not one mourns for the dying, haunts me no longer, and I feel not as one deserted and alone. To-mor- row I go to wish her adieu ; we are to be at the Tuileries by noon. The emperor holds a levee, and our final orders will then be given." The old general rallied at the last few words he spoke, and pressing my hand affectionately, wished me good night, and with- drew. While I, with a mind confused and stunned, sat thinking- over the melancholy story he had related, and sorrowing over the misfortunes of one, whose lot in life had been far sadder than my own. CHAPTER XLII. THE HALL OF THE MARSHALS. Some minutes before noon we entered the Place de Carousel, now thronged with equipages and led horses. Officers, in the rich uniforms of every arm of the service, were pressing their way to the palace, amid the crash of carriages, the buzz of recognitions, and the thun- dering sounds of the brass band, whose echo was redoubled beneath the vaulted vestibide of the palace. Borne along with the torrent, we mounted the wide stair and passed from room to room, until we arrived at the great antechamber where the officers of the household were assembled in their splendid dresses. Here the crowd was so dense, we were unable to move on for some time, and it was after nearly an hour's waiting, that we at last found our- selves within that gorgeous gallery, named by the emperor, " La salle des Marechaux." At any other moment my attention had been rivetted upon the magnificence and beauty of this great salon, its pictures, its gildings, the richness of the hangings, the tasteful elegance of the ceiling, with its tracery of dull gold, the great works of art in bronze and marble that adorned it on every'side ; but now my mind took another and very different, range. Here around me were met the greatest generals and warriors of Europe. The names, second alone to his, who had no equal. There stood Ney, with his broad, retiring forehead, and his eyes black and flashing, like an eagle's. With what energy he spoke, how full of passionate vigour that thick and rapid utterance, that left a tremulous quavering on his lip even when he ceased to speak. What a contrast to the bronzed unmoved features of 312 OUR mi:s?. the large man he addressed, and who listened to him with such defe- rence of manner ; his yellow moustache bespeaks not the Frenchman, he is a German, by blood at least, for it is Kellerman, the colonel of the cuirassiers of "the guard. And yonder was Soult, with his strong features seamed by many a day of hardship, the centre of a group of colonels of the staff, to whom he was rapidly communicating their orders. Close beside him stood Lannes, his arm in a sling ; a gun- shot wound that defied the art of his surgeons, still deprived him of his left hand. And there leaned Savary against the window, his dark eves rivetted on the corps of gendarmerie in the court beneath. Full taller by a head than the largest about him, he seemed almost gigantic in tlie massive accoutrements of his service. The fierce Davoust, the gay and splendid Murat, with his waving plumes and jewelled dol- man. Lefebvre, the very type of his class, moving with difficulty from a wound in his hip — all were there — while passing rapidly from place to place, I remarked a young and handsome man, whose uniform of colonel bore the decoration of the legion — he appeared to know and be known to all — this was Eugene Beauharnais, the stepson of the emperor. " Ah, General D'Auvergne," cried he, approaching with a smile, "his majesty desires to see you after the levee — you leave to-night, I believe." " Yes, colonel, all is in readiness," said the general, while I thought a look of anxiety at the emperor's summons seemed to agitate his features. " One of your staff," said Beauharnais, bowing, as he looked towards me. "My aid-de-camp Lieutenant Burke," replied the general, pre- senting me. " Ah, I remember," said the colonel, as be drew himself proudly up, and seemed as though the recollection were any thing but favour- able to me. But just then the wide folding doors were thrown open, and a loud voice proclaimed " sa Majeste L'Empereur." In an instant every voice was hushed, the groups broke up, and the persons fell back into two long lines, between which lay a passage, along this the officers of the palace retired slowly, facing the emperor, who came step by step after them. I could but see the pale face, massive and regular, like the head of an antique cameo ; the hair straight combed upon his fine forehead, and his large full eyes, as they turned hither and thither among that crowd, once his equals, now how immeasurably his inferiors. He stopped every now and then to say a word or two to some one as he passed, but in so low a tone, that even in the dead silence around, nothing was audible save a murmur. It was a relief to my own excited feelings, as with high beating heart, I gazed on the greatest monarch of the world — that I beheld the others around, the oldest generals, the time-worn companions of his battles, not less moved than myself. While the emperor passed slowly along, I could mark that Eugene Beauharnais moved rapidly through the gallery, whispering now to this one, now to that, among the officers of superior grade, who, imine- TOM BTJRKK OF " OURS." 313 diately after, left the salon by a door at the end. At length he ap- proached General D'Auvergne, saying, " The audience of the mar- shals will not occupy more than half an hour, pray be in readiness to wait on his majesty when he calls; you can remain in the blue drawing- room next the gallery." The general bowed, and taking my arm moved slowly from the spot in the direction mentioned, and in a few minutes we found ourselves in the small room where the empress used to receive her morning visitors during the consulate. " You remember this salon, Burke ?" said the general, carelessly. " Yes, sir, but too well — it was here that his majesty gave me" that rebuke " " True, true, my dear boy, I forgot that completely — but come, there has been time enough to forget it since. I wonder what can mean this summons to attend here — I have received my orders — there has been, so far as I understand, no change of plan. Well, well, we shall soon know — see, the levee has begun to break up already — there goes the staff of the artillery — that roll of the drum is for some general of division." And now the crash of carriages, and the sounds of cavalry escorts, jingling beside them, mingled with the deep beating of the drums, made a mass of noises that filled the air, and continued without inter- ruption for above an hour. " Sacristi /" cried the general, " the crowd seems to pour in as fast as it goes out ; this may last for the entire day ; I have scarce two hours left me now.'' He walked the room impatiently, now muttering some broken words to himself, now stopping to listen to the sounds without. Still the din continued, and the distant roll of equipages, growing louder as they came, told that the tide was yet pressing onwards towards the palace. " Three o'clock," cried the general, as the bell of the pavilion sounded ; " at four I was to leave ; such were my written orders, signed by the minister." His impatience now became extreme : he knew how difficult it was in a matter of military discipline to satisfy Napoleon that any breach, even when caused by his direct orders, was not a fault. Besides, his old habits had taught him to respect a command from the minister-at- war, as something above all others. M Beauharnais must have mistaken," said he, angrily. " His majesty gave me my final directions ; I'll wait no longer." Yet did he hesitate to leave, and seemed actually to rely on me for some hint for his guidance. I did not dare to offer a suggestion, and while thus we both stood uncertain, the door opened, and a huissier called out — " Lieut.-General D'Auvergne — this way, sir," said the official, as he threw open a folding door into a long gallery that looked into the garden. They passed out together, and I was alone. The agitation of the general at this unexpected summons, had communicated itself to me, but in a far different way, for I imagined 314 OUE MESS.' that his majesty desired only to confer some mark of favour on the gallant old general before parting with him. Yet did I not venture to suggest this to him, for fear I should be mistaken. While I revolved these doubts in my mind, the door was flung open with a crash, and a page, in the uniform of the court rushed in. " May I ask, sir," cried he, breathless, " can you inform me where is the aid-de-camp of the General D'Auvergne. I forget the name un- fortunately." " I am the person — Lieutenant Burke." " The same, that is the name — come after me with all haste, this way ;" and so saying, he rushed down a flight of stone stairs, clearing six o*r seven at a spring. "A hurried business this, lieutenant," said the page, laughingly. " Took them all by surprise — I fancy." " What is it ? What do you mean ?" asked I, eagerly. "Hush!" said he, placing his finger on his lips; "here they come." We had just time to stand to one side of the gallery, as the officers of the household came up, two and two, followed by the Chancellor of France, and the Dean of St. Roch, in his full canonicals. They approached the table, on which several papers and documents were lying, and proceeded to sign their names to different writings before them. While I looked on, puzzled and amazed, totally unable to make the most vague conjecture of the nature of the proceedings, I perceived that General D'Auvergne had entered the room, and was standing among the rest at the table. " Whose signature did you propose here, general ?" said the chan- cellor, as he took up a paper before him. " My aid-de-camp, Lieutenant Burke." " He is here, sir," said the page, stepping forward. " You are to sign your name here, sir, and again on this side," said the chancellor, " with your birth-place annexed, age, and rank in the service." "I am a foreigner," said I; "does that make any difference here ?" " None," said he, smiling ; " the witness is but a very subordinate personage here." I took the pen, and proceeded to write as I was desired ; and while thus engaged, the door opened, and a short heavy step crossed the room. I did not dare to look up ; some secret feeling of terror ran through me, and told me it was the emperor himself. " Well, D'Auvergne," said he, in a frank bold way, quite different from his ordinary voice, " you seem but half content with this plan of mine. Pardieu ! there's many a brave fellow would not deem the case so hard a one." "As your wish, sire ." "As mine, diantre! my friend; do not say mine only; you forget that the lady expressed herself equally satisfied. Come ! is the acte completed ?" 315 " It wants but your majesty's signature," said the chancellor. The emperor took the pen, and dashed some indescribable scroll across the paper ; then turning suddenly towards the general, he con- versed with him eagerly for several minutes, but in so low a voice as not to be audible where I stood. I could but catch the words — " Darmstadt — Augsburg — the fourth corps," from which it seemed the movements of the army were the subject ; when he added in a louder voice — " Every hour now is worth a day, ay, a week, hereafter — remember that, D'Auvergne." "Every thing is finished, sire," said the chancellor, handing the folded papers to the emperor. "These are for your keeping, general," said he, delivering them into D'Auvergne's hand. " Pardon, sire," said the chancellor, hastily. " I have made a great error here. Madame la Comtesse has not appended her signature to the consent." " Indeed !" said the emperor, smiling. " We have been too hasty, it would seem ; so thinks our reverend father of Saint Roch, I perceive, who is evidently not accustomed to officiate ' au coup de tambour.' " " Her majesty the empress !" said the huissier, as he opened the doors, to permit her to enter. She was dressed in full court-dress, covered with jewels. She held within her arm the hand of another, over whose figure a deep veil was thrown, that entirely concealed her from head to foot. " Madame la Comtesse will have the kindness to sign this," said the chancellor, as he handed over a pen to the lady. She threw back her veil as he spoke. As she turned towards the table, I saw the pale, almost deathlike features of Marie de Meudon. Such was the shock, I scarce restrained a cry from bursting forth, and a film fell before my eyes as I looked, and the figures before me floated like masses of vapour before my sight. The empress now spoke to the general, but no longer could I take notice of what was said. Voices there Avere, but they conveyed no- thing to my mind. A terrible rush of thoughts, too quick for percep- tion, chased each other through my brain, and I felt as though my temples were bursting open from some pressure within. Suddenly the general moved forward, and knelt to kiss the empress' hand ; he then took that of Mademoiselle de Meudon, and pressed it to his lips. I heard the word " Adieu !" faintly uttered by her low voice ; the veil fell once more over her features : that moment a stir followed, and in a few minutes more we were descending the stairs alone, the general leaning on my arm — his right hand pressed across his eyes. When we reached the court, several officers of rank pressed forward, and I could hear the buzz of phrases, implying congratulations and joy, to which the old general rephed briefly, and with evident depres- sion of manner.. The dreadful oppression of a sad dream was over orn >n:ss. me still, and I felt as though to awake were impossible, when to He remark near him, the general replied — " True! quite true, monseigneur ; I have made her my wife. There only remains one reparation for it, which is to make her my widow." • I lis wife 1" said I, aloud, re-echoing the word without knowing. ^T" Even so, mon ami" said he, pressing my hand softly. " My name and my fortune are both hers. As for myself — we shall never meet again." He turned away his head as he spoke, nor uttered another word during the remainder of the way. When we arrived at the Rue de Rohan, the horses were harnessed to the carriage, and all in readiness for our departure. The rumour of expected war had brought a crowd of idlers about the door, through which we passed with some difficulty into the house. Hastily throwing an eye over the now dismantled room, the old general approached the window that looked out on the Tuileries. " Adieu !" muttered he to himself. " Je ne vous reverrai jamais /" And with that he pressed his travelling-cap over his brows, and descended the stairs. A cheer burst from the mob — the postillion's whip cracked loudly — the horses dashed over the pavement — and ere the first flurry of mad excitement had subsided from my mind, Paris was some miles behind us, and we were hastening on towards the frontier. Almost every man has experienced at least one period in his life, when the curtain seems to drop, and the drama in which he has hitherto acted to end ; when a total change appears to pass over the interests he has lived among, and a new and very different kind of existence to open before him. Such is the case when the death of friends has left us lone and companionless ; when they, into whose ears we poured our whole thoughts of sorrow or of joy, are gone, and we look around upon the bleak world, without a tie to existence, without one hope to cheer us. How naturally then do we turn from every path and place, once lingered over ; how do we fly the thoughts wherein once consisted our greatest happiness, and seek from other sources, impressions less painful, because unconnected with the past. Still the bereavement of death is never devoid of a sense of holy calm, a sort of solemn peace connected with the memory of the lost one. In the sleep that knows not waking, we see the end of earthly troubles — in the silence of the grave, come no sounds of this world's contention — the -winds that stir the rank grass of the churchyard breathe, at least, repose. Not so when fate has severed us from those we loved best during lifetime ; when the fortunes we hoped to link with our own are torn asunder from us ; when the hour comes when we must turn from the path we had followed with pleasure and happiness, and seek another road in life, bearing with us not only all the memory of the past, but all the specu- lation on the future. There is no sorrow, no affliction, like this. It was thus I viewed my joyless fortune — with such depressing reflec- tions I thought over the past. What mattered it now how my career might turn : there lived not one to care whether rank or honour, dis- grace or death, were to be my portion. The glorious path I often TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 317 longed to tread opened for me now, without exciting one spark of enthusiasm : so is it even in our most selfish desires, we live less for ourselves than others. If my road in life seemed to present few features to hang hopes on, he who sat heside me appeared still more depressed. Seldom speaking, and then but in monosyllables, he remained sunk in reverie. And thus passed the days of our journey, when on the third evening we came in sight of Coblentz. Then indeed there burst upon my astonished sight one of those scenes which once seen, are never forgotten. From the gentle declivity which we were now descending, the view extended several miles in every direction. Beneath us lay the city of Coblentz, its spires and domes shining like gilded bronze as the rays of the setting sun fell upon them ; the Moselle swept along one side of the town till it mingled its eddies with the broad Rhine, now one sheet of liquid gold ; the long pontoon bridge, against whose dark cut-waters the bright, stream broke in sparkling circles, trembled beneath the dull roll of artillery and baggage-waggons, which might be seen issuing from the town, and serpentining their course along the river's edge for miles till they were lost in the narrow glen by which the Lahn flows into the Rhine ; beyond rose the great precipice of rock, with its crowning fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, along whose battlemented walls, almost lost in the heavy clouds of evening, might be seen dark specks moving from place to place — the soldiers of the garrison looking down from their eyrie on the war-tide that flowed beneath. Lower down the river many boats were crossing, in which, as the sunlight shone, one could mark the glancing of arms and the glitter of uniforms ; while farther again, and in deep shadow, rose the solitary towers of the ruined castle of Lahneck, its shattered walls and grass-grown battlements standing clearly out against the evening sky. Far as we were off, every breeze that stirred bore towards us the softened swell of military music, which, even when too faint to trace, made the air tremulous with its martial sounds. Along the ramparts of the city were crowds of townspeople gazing with anxious wonder- ment at the spectacle, for none knew, save the generals in command of divisions, the destination of that mighty force — the greatest, Europe had ever seen up to that period. Such indeed were the measures taken to ensure secrecy, that none were permitted to cross the frontier without a special authority from the minister for foreign affairs ; the letters in the various post-offices were detained, and even travellers were denied post-horses on the great roads to the eastward, lest intelligence might be conveyed to Germany of the movement in progress. Meanwhile at Manheim, at Spire, at Strasbourgh, and at Coblentz, the long columns streamed forth, whose eagles were soon destined to meet in the great plains of southern Germany. Such was the gorgeous spec- tacle that each moment grew more palpable to our astonished senses — grander far than any thing painting could realise — more spirit-stirring than the grandest words that poet ever sung. " The cuirassiers and the dragoons of the guard are yonder," said the general, as he directed his glass to a large square of the town, 318 OUR MESS. where a vast mass of dismounted cavalry were standing : " you see how punctual they are ; we are but two hours behind our time, and they are awaiting our arrival." " And do we move forward to-night, general ?" asked I, in some surprise. " Yes, and every night. The marches are to be made fourteen hours each day. There go the lancers of Berg — you see their scarlet dolmans, don't you ? and yonder, in the three large boats, beyond the point, there are the sappers of the guard What are the shouts I hear — whence comes that cheering ?" " Oh, I see ; it's a vivandiere, her horse has backed into the river. See — see — she is going to swim him over. Look how the current takes him down Bravely done, faith. She heads him to the stream — it won't do though, she must be carried down." Just at this critical moment a boat shoots out from under the cliff — a few strokes of the oars, and they are alongside — there's a splash and a shout, and the skirl" moves on; "and now I see they have given her a rope, and are towing her and her horse across." " See how the old spirit conies back with the first blast of the trumpet," said the old general, as his eyes flashed with enthusiasm. " That damsel there, I'll warrant ye, she'd have thought twice about stepping over a rivulet in the streets of Paris yesterday, and look at her now. Well done — gallantly done. See how she spurs him up the bank ! JIafoi, mademoiselle, you'll have no lack of lovers for that achievement." A few minutes more and we entered the town, whose streets were thronged with soldiers hurrying on to their different corps, and eager townsfolk asking a hundred questions, to which of course few waited to reply. " This way, general," said an officer in undress, who recognised General D'Auvergne. " The cavalry of the third division is stationed in the square." Parsing through a narrow street, through which the caleche had barely room to pass, we now found ourselves in the Place, a handsome space surrounded with a double row of trees, under which the dragoons were lying, holding the bridles of their horses. The general had scarcely put foot to ground, when the trumpets sounded the call. The superior officers came running forward to t him. Taking the arm of a short man, in the -uniform of the cuirassiers, the general entered a cafe, near, while I became the centre of some dozen officers, all eagerly asking the news from Paris ; and whether the emperor had yet left the capital. It was not without con- tonishment I then perceived how totally ignorant they all were of the destination of the army : many alleging it was destined for Russia; and others equally positive that the Prussians were the object of attack ; the arguments in support of each opinion being wonderfully ingenious, and only deficient in one respect, having not a particle of fact for their foundation. In the midst of these conjectur- ings came a new subject for discussion; for one of the group who had TOM BUEKE OF " OURS." 319 just received a letter from his brother, a page at the Tuileries, was reading the contents aloud for the benefit of the rest — " ' Jules says that they are all astray as to the emperor's movements ; Duroc has left Paris suddenly, but no one knows for where ; the only thing certain is, a hot campaign i .; to open somewhere — one hundred and eighty thousand men ' " Bah !" said an old white-moustached major, with a look of evident unbelief; "we never had forty with the army of the Sambre." " And what then ?" 6aid another, fiercely ; " do you compare your army of the Sambre, your sa?is culottes republicans, with the imperial troops ?" The old major's face became deeply crimsoned, and with a muttered a demain, he walked away. "Go after him, Amedee," said another; "you had no right to say that." " Not I, faith," said the other, carelessly ; " there is a grudge be- tween us these three weeks past, and we may as well have it out. Go on with the letter, Henri." " Oh, it is filled with court gossip," said the reader, negligently. " Ha ! what's this, though — the postscript — " 'I have just time to tell you the strangest bit of news we have chanced upon for some time past. The emperor has this moment mar- ried old General D'Auvergne to the very handsomest girl in the empress's suite, Mademoiselle de Meudon. There is a rumour afloat about the old man having made her his heir, and desiring to confer her hand on some young fellow of his own choosing ; but this passion to make court matches, winch has seized his majesty lately, stops at nothing ; and it is whispered that old Madame d'Orvalle is actually terrified at every levee, lest she should be disposed of, to one of the new marshals. 1 must say that the general looks considerably put out by the arrangement ; not unnaturally, perhaps, as he is likely to pass the honeymoon in the field ; while his aid-de-camp, a certain Monsieur Burke, whose name you may remember figuring in the affair of Pichegru and George ' "Perhaps it were as well, sir," said I quietly, " that I should tell you the person alluded to is myself. I have no desire to learn how your correspondent speaks of me ; nor, I take it for granted, do these gentlemen desire to canvass me in my own hearing ; with your leave, then, I shall withdraw." " A word, monsieur, one word, first," said the officer, whose insolent taunt had already offended the veteran major ; " we are most of us here staff officers,' and I need not say accustomed to live pretty much together. Will you favour us, then, with a little explanation as to the manner in which you escaped a trial in that business : your name, if I mistake not, did not figure before the tribunal after the first day ?" " Well, sir ; and then ?" " And then ? why, there is one only explanation in such a circum- stance." " And that is, if I may make so bold " " That the ' mouchard' fares better than his victim." 320 OUR MESS. " I believe, sir," said I, " I comprehend your meaning ; I hope there •will be no fear of your mistaking mine." With that I drew off the long gauntlet glove I wore, and struck, him across the face. Every man sprang backwards as I did so, as thougli a shell had fallen in the midst of us ; while a deep voice called out from behind — " Le Capitaine Amedee Pichot is under arrest." I turned, and beheld the prevost marshal with his gucird approach, and take my adversary's sword from him. "What charge is this, marshal?" said he, as a livid colour spicad over his cheek. " Your duel of yesterday, capitaine ; you seem to forget all about it already." " Whenever, and wherever you please, sir," said I, passing close beside him, and speaking in a whisper. He nodded, without uttering a word in reply, and moved after the guard ; while the others dispersed silently, and left me standing alone in the Place. What Mould I not have given at that moment for but one friend to counsel and advise me : and yet, save the general, to whom I dared not speak on such a subject, 1 had not one in the whole world. It was, indeed, but too true, that life had little value for me ; yet never did I contemplate a duel with more abhorrence. The insult I had inflicted, however, could have no other result. While I reasoned thus, the door of the cafe opened, and the general appeared. " Burke," cried he, " come in here, and make a hasty supper ; you must be in the saddle is half an hour." " Quite ready, sir," " I know it, my lad. Your orders are there : ride forward to Ettingen, and prepare the billets for the fourth demi-brigade, which will reach that village by to-morrow evening; you'll have time for something to eat, and a glass of wine, before the orderly arrives. This piece of duty is put on you, because a certain Captain Pichot, the only one of the commissaries' department who can speak German, has just been put under arrest for a duel he fought yesterday. I wish the court martial would shoot the fellow, with all my heart and soul ; he's a per- fect curse to the whole division. In any cas-s, if he escape this time, I'll keep my eye on him, and he'll scarce get clear through my hands, I warrant him." It may be supposed that I heard these words with no common emo- tion, bearing as they did so closely on my own circumstances at the moment : but I hung down my head and affected to eat, while the old general walked hastily up and down the salon, muttering, half aloud, heavy denunciations on the practice of duelling, which, at any cost of life, he resolved to put down in his command. " Done already ; why, man, you've eaten nothing. Well, then, I see the orderly without : you've got a capital moonlight for your ride ; and 60, au revoir" " Good-bye, sir," said I, as I sprang into the saddle j " and now for Ettingen." TOM Iit'ftKE OP t{ OUKS." 321 CHAPTER XLIIL TUE MAUCn ON THE DANUBE. There is a strange, unnatural kind of pleasure felt sometimes in the continued attacks of evil fortune : the dogged courage with which we bear up against the ills of fate, swimming strongly as the waves grow rougher, has its own meed of consolation. It is only at such a time, perhaps, that the really independent spirit of our natures is in the ascendant, and that we can stand amid the storm, conscious of our firmness, and bid the winds " blow and crack their cheeks." Yet, through how many sorrows must one have waded, ere he reach this point — through what trials must he have passed — how must hope have paled, and flickered, and died out — how must all self-love, all ambition, all desire itself have withered within us — till we become like the mere rock amid the breakers, against which the waves beat in vain ! When that hour comes, the heart has grown cold and callous — the affections have dried up — and man looks no more upon his fellow- men as brothers. Towards this sad condition I found myself rapidly verging — the isolation of my homeless, friendless state — the death of my hopes — the uncheered path in which I walked — all conspired to make me feel depressed — and I perceived that a half recklessness was already stealing over me — and that, in my indifference as to fortune, now lay my greatest consolation. There was a time when such a rencontre as lately befel me had made me miserable, till the hour came when I should meet my adversary : now, my blood boiled with no indignant passion — no current of angry vengeance stirred through my veins — a stupid sullenness was over me, and I cared nothing what might happen. And if this state became not permanent, I owe it to youth alone — the mainspring of many of our best endeavours. We had travelled some seven or eight miles, when we stopped for a few seconds at the door of a cabaret, and then I discovered for the first time that my old friend Pioche was the corporal of our little partv. To my slight reproach for his not having sooner made himself known to me, the honest fellow replied, " That he saw 1 was low in spirits about something, and did not wish to obtrude upon me. Not but, after all, mon Lieutenant, the best way is always to 'face fruit' against bad luck, and charge through — scrpermint, that's the way we did at Marengo, when Desaix' corps was cut off from the left — but, pardon, mon Ojficicr, I forgot you were not there." There was some- thing so pleasant in the gruff courtesy of the hardy cuirassier, that I willingly led him in to speak of his former life — a subject which, once entered on, he followed as fancy or memory suggested. MESS, NO. XXIV. — VOL. IJ. Y 822 ouit mess. " I used to feel low-spirited myself, once," said Pioche, as he smoothed down his great moustache with a complacent motion of his fingers — " I used to be very low in heart when I entei'ed the service first, and saw all my old schoolfellows and companions, winning their epaulettes, and becoming captains and colonels — ay, parbleu — and Mareehals too ; while, because I coidd not read, 1 was to remain all my life in the ranks — as if one could not force a pallisade, nor break through a scpiare, till he had stuffed his head with learning. All this made me very sad, and I would sit brooding over it for hours long ; but at last I began to think my own lot was not the worst after all — my duty was easily done, and, when over, I could sleep sound till the reveilUe blew. I ran no danger of being scolded by the petit Caporal, because my division was not somewhere yesterday, nor in some other place to-day. He never came with a froAvn to ask me why I had not captured another howitzer, and taken more prisoners ! No, faith. It was always, ' Well done, Pioche — bravely done, mon enfant — here's a piece of twenty francs to drink my health ;' or perhaps he'd mutter between his teeth, ' That honest fellow there would make a better general than one half of them' — not that he was in earnest, you know — but still it was pleasant just to hear it." "And yet, Pioche," said I, " it does surprise me, why, seeing that this want of learning was the bar to your promotion, you did not " "And so I did," mon Lieutenant; "at least, I tried to learn to read. Morbleu ! it was a weary time for me. I'd rather be under arrest three days a week, than be at it again. Mademoiselle Minette, she was the ' Vivandiere' of ours, undertook to teach me ; and I used to go over to the canteen every evening after drill. Many a sad heart I had over these same lessons. Sapcrlotr, I could learn the look of every man in a brigade, before I could know the letters in the alphabet, they looked so confoundedly alike when they stood up all in a line. The only fellows I could distinguish were the big ones, tiiat were probably the sergeants and sous officicrs ; and when my eye was fixed on one column, it would stray away to another, and then mademoiselle would laugh — and that would lead to something else. "Et mafoi" the spelling-book was soon thrown aside, and lessons given up for that evening." " I suppose Mademoiselle Minette was pretty, Pioche." " Was ! ay, and is too. What ! mon Lieutenant, did you never see her on parade ? She's the handsomest girl in the army, and rides so well — milles canons ! She might have been a great lady before this, if she'd have left the regiment — but no, she'd die first ; her father was tambour-major with us, and killed at Groningen, when she was only an infant — and we used to carry her about in our arms on the march, and hand her from one to another. I have seen her pass from the leading files to the baggage-guard, on a long summer's day — that I have. Le petit Caporal knows her well — she gave him a gourd full of cau de vie at Cairo, when he was so faint, he could scarcely speak. It was after that he saw her in the breach at Acre — one of our fellows was lying wouuded in the ruins, and mademoiselle waited till the TOM BURKE OF "OURS." 323 storming party fell back, and then ran up to him with her flask in her hand. ' Whose pretty ancles are these? I think I ought to know them,' said an officer, as she passed along. « No flattery will do with me, monsieur,' cried Minette : ' it's hard enough to get one's living here, without giving Nantz brandy for nothing.' Sanisti ! when the laugh made her turn about, she saw it was the petit Oapofal himself who spoke to her. Poor Minette, she blushed scarlet, and nearly dropped with shame ; but that did not prevent her dashing up the breach towards the wounded man, not that it was of any use though — he was dead when she got up." " I should like much to see mademoiselle. Is she still with the fourth ?" " Yes, moti Lieutenant — I parted with her a few hours ago ;" a half-suppressed sigh that followed these words showed that the worthy corporal was touched on the most tender key of his nature — and for some time he lapsed into a silence I could not venture to break. At length, desiring to give the conversation a turn, I asked if he knew the Capitaine Pichot. " Know him!" cried Pioche, almost bounding in his saddle as he spoke. " That I do. Peste! I have good reason to know him. See there." With 1 that he lifted the curled moustache from his upper lip, and disclosed to my view a blue scar that marked one side of his mouth. " That was his doing." " Indeed ! How so, pray?" " I'll tell you : we were in garrison at Metz, where, as you know, the great commissariat station is held — thousands of cannon and mortars, shells and shot, and tons of powder without end. Well, the orders were very strict against smoking — any man found with a pipe in his mouth was sentenced to a week in the ' salle de police,' and I can't say what else beside. When we marched into the town this order stared us every where in the face — a great placard, with big letters, which they who could read said was against smoking. Now, most of us came from Alsace, and it was pretty much like setting a fish to live on dry land, bidding us go without tobacco. As for me, I smoke just as I breathe, without knowing or thinking of it. My pipe lies in my mouth as naturally as my foot rests in the stirrup : and so, although I intended to obey the order, I knew well the time might come when, just from not thinking, I should be caught smoking away — for if I were on guard over a magazine, it would be all the same — I could not help it. So I resolved, as the only way not to be caught tripping, to leave all my pipes in a secret place, till the time came for us to leave Metz — an hour, I need not say, we all anxiously longed for. This I did," continued Pioche, " that same evening, and all went on favourably for some time, Avhen one night as I was returning to quarters, the devil, who meddles with every thing in this world, made me stick my hands into the pocket of my undress jacket, and I there discovered a little bit of a pipe about the length of one joint, of your thumb — a poor scrubby tiling of clay, sure enough — but there it was, and, worse still, ready filled with tobacco. Had it been a good-sized meerschaum, with a tassel 324 OUR MESS. and an amber mouth-piece, I had resisted like a man ; but the tempta- tion came in so humble a shape, I thought I was only guilty of a small sin in transgressing, and so I lit my little friend, and went gaily along towards the barracks. Just as I passed the corner of the market- place, I heard a great noise of voices and laughing in a cafe, and recognised the tones of our major and some of the officers, as they sat sipping their wine in the verandah. Before I could raise my hand to my mouth, Le Capitaine Pichot cried out — < Halte, la ! — right about face — attention! — left wheel — eyes front.' This I did, as if on parade, and stood stock still — when suddenly crack went a noise, and a pistol bullet smashed the pipe in two, and grazed my lip, when a roar of laughing followed, as he called out louder than before — ' epiick inarch !' — and I stepped out to my quarters, never turning my head right or left, not knowing what other ball practice might be in store for me. Tonnerre de Dieu ! a little windage of the shot might have cost me every tooth I have in the world !" " It was a cruel jest, Pioche, and you're a good-humoured fellow to take it so easily." " Not so, Lieutenant. I had no punishment afterwards, and was well content to be quit for the fright !" With such stray memories of his campaigning days, did Pioche beguile the w r ay — now moralizing over the chances and changes of a soldier's fortune — now comforting himself with some pleasant reflection, that, even in his own humble walk, he had assisted at some of the greatest triumphs of the French armies. Of the future he spoke with the easy confidence of one, who felt that in the Emperor's guidance there could be full trust — both of the cause being a just one, and the result victorious. A perfect type of his class, his bravery was only to be equalled by the implicit confidence he felt in his leader. That the troops of any country, no matter how numerous and well equipped, could resist a French army, was a problem he could not even entertain. The thing was too absurd : and if Napoleon did not at that moment •wield undisputed sway over the whole of Europe, it was simply owing to his excess of moderation, and the willing sacrifice of his ambition to his greater love of liberty. I confess, if I were sometimes tempted to smile at the simplicity of the honest soldier, I was more often carried away by his warm enthusiasm ; so frequently, too, did he interweave in his narrative the mention of those great victories, whose fame was unquestionable, that in my assent to the facts, I went a great way in my concurrence with the inferences he deduced from them. And thus we travelled on for several days, in advance of the division, regulating the halting-places and the billets, according to the nature and facilities of the country. The towns and villages in our " route" presented an aspect of the most profound peace ; and however strange it seemed, yet each day attested how com- pletely ignorant the people were of the advance of that mighty army that now, in four vast columns of march, was pouring its thousands into the heart of Germany. The Princes of Baden and Darmstadt, through whose territories we passed, had not as yet given in their TOM BURKE OF " OURS. 325 adherence to tlie Emperor ; and the inhabitants of those countries seemed perplexed and confused at the intentions of their powerful neighbour, whose immense trains of ammunition, and enormous parks of artillery, filled every road, and blocked up every village. At length we reached Manheim, where a portion of the corps of Marechal Davoust were in waiting to join us ; and there we first learned by the imperial bulletin, the object of the war, and the destination of the troops. The document was written by Napoleon himself, and bore abundant evidence of his style. After the usual programme, attesting his sincere love for peace, and his desire for the cultivation of those happy and industrious habits which make nations more prosperous than glorious, it went on to speak of the great coalition between Russia and Austria, which, in union with the " perfide Albion," had no other thought nor wish, than the abasement and dismemberment of France. "But, soldiers!" continued he, "your Emperor is in the midst of you. France itself, in all its majesty, is at your back, and you are but the advanced guard of a mighty people ! There are fatigues and privations, battles and forced marches, before you ; but let them oppose to us every resistance they are able — we swear never to cry, halt ! till we have planted our eagles on the territory of our enemies !" We halted two days at Manheim to permit some regiments to come up, and then marched forward to Nordlingen, which place the Emperor himself had only quitted the night before. Here the report reached us that a smart affair had taken place the previous morning, between an Austrian division and a portion of Ney's advanced guard, in which we had rather the worst of it, and had lost some prisoners. The news excited considerable discontent among the troops, and increased their impa- tience to move forward to a very great degree. Meanwhile, the dif- ferent divisions of the French army were converging towards Ulm, from the north, south, and west ; and every hour brought them nearer to that devoted spot, which as yet, in the security of an enormous garrison, never dreamed of sudden attack. The corps of Soult was now pushed forward to Augsburg, and extended by a line of communication to Meiningen, the only channel of communication which remained open to the enemy. The quartier- general of the Emperor was established at Zummerhausen, Ney was at Guntzbourg, Marmont threatened in the west, and Bernadotte, arriv- ing by forced marches from Prussia, hovered in the north, so that Ulm was invested in every direction at one blow, and that in a space of time almost inconceivable. While these immense combinations were being effected, requiring, as they did, an enormous extent of circumference to march over, before the fortress could be thus enclosed, as it were, within our grasp, our astonishment increased daily, that the Austrians delayed to give battle; but, as if terror-stricken, they waited on, day after day, while the measures for their ruin were accomplishing. At length a desperate sortie was made from the garrison, and a large body of troops escaping by the left bank of the Danube, directed their course towards Bohemia ; 32G OUR MESS. -while another corps, in the opposite direction, forced hack Ney's ad- vanced guard, and took the road towards Nordlingen. Having di- rected a strong detachment in pursuit of this latter corps, which was commanded by the Archduke Frederick himself, the Emperor closed in around Ulm, and, forcing the passage of the river at Elchingen, prepared for the final attack. AVhile these dispositions were being effected, the cavalry brigade under General D'Auvergne, consisting of three regiments of heavy dra- goons, the fourth cuirassiers and eighth hussars, continued to descend the left bank of the Danube in pursuit of a part of the Austrian gar- rison which had taken that line in retreat towards Vienna. We fol- lowed as far as Guntzbourg without coming up with them, and there the news of the capitulation of Meiningen, with its garrison of six thousand men, to Mareehal Soult, reached us, along witli an order to return to Ulm. Up to this time, all I had seen of war was forced marches, bi- vouacks hastily broken up, hurried movements in advance and retreat, the fatigue of night parties, and a continual alert. At first the hourly expectation of coining in sight of the enemy kept up our spirits; but when day after day passed, and the same pursuit followed, where the pursued never appeared — the younger soldiers grumbled loudly at fatigues undertaken without object, and, as it seemed to them, by mistake. On the night of the 17th of October we bivouacked within a league of Ulm. Scarcely were the picquets formed for the night, when orders came for the whole brigade to assemble under arms at daybreak. A thousand rumours were abroad as to the meaning of the order, but none came near the true solution ; indeed, the difficulty was increased by the added command, that the regiments should appear "en grande tenue" or in full dress. I saw that my old commander made a point of keeping me in suspense as to the morrow, and affected, as much as possible, an air of indifference on the subject. He had himself arrived late from Ulm, where he had seen the Emperor, and amused me by mentioning the surprise of an Austrian aid-de-camp, who, sent to deliver a letter, found his majesty sitting with his boots off, and stretched before a bivouac fire. " Yes," said Napoleon, divining at once his astonishment, "it is even so. Your master wished to remind me of my old trade, and I hope that the imperial purple has not made me forget its lesson^.'' By daybreak the next morning our brigade was in the saddle, and in motion towards the quai tier-general — a gently rising ground, sur- mounted by a farm-house, where the Emperor had fixed his quarters. As we mounted the hill we came in sight of the whole army drawn up in battle array. They stood in columns of divisions, with artillery and cavalry between them, the bands of the various regiments in front. The day was a brilliant one, and heightened the effect of the scene. Beyond us lay Ulna — silent as if untenanted. Not a sentinel appeared TOM BURKE OP " OURS." 327 on the Willis ; the very flag had disappeared from the battlements ; our surprise was great at this ; but how was it increased, as the rumour fled from mouth to mouth — Ulm has capitulated — thirty-live thousand men have become prisoners of war. Ere the first moments of wonder had ceased, the staff of the emperor was seen passing along the line, and finally taking up its station on the hill, while the regi- mental bands burst forth into one crash — the most spirit-stirring and exciting. The proud notes swelled and filled the air, as the sun, bursting forth with increased brilliancy, tipped every helmet and ban- ner, and displayed the mighty hosts in all the splendour of their pageantry. Beneath the hill, stretched a vast plain in the direction of Neubourg, and here we at first supposed it was the emperor's intention to review the troops ; but a very different scene was destined to pass on that spot. Suddenly, a single gun boomed out, and as the lazy smoke moved heavily along the earth, the gates of Ulm opened, and the head of an Austrian column appeared : not with beat of drum, or colours fly- ing, did they advance — but slow in step, with arms reversed, and their heads downcast, they marched on towards the mound; defiling beneath this, they moved into the plain, and corps by corps, piled their arms, and resumed their " route," the white line serpenting along the vast plain, and stretching away into the dim distance. Never was a sight so sad as this ! All that war can present of suffering and bloodshed, all that the battle-field can show of dead and dying, were nothing to the miserable abasement of those thousands, who from daybreak till noon poured on their unceasing tide. On the hill beside the Emperor stood several officers in white uniform, whose sad faces and suffering looks, attested the misery of their hearts. " Better a thousand deaths than such humiliation !" was the muttered cry of every man about me ; while in very sorrow at such a scene, the tears coursed down the hardy cheeks of many a bronzed soldier, and some turned away their heads, unable to behold the spectacle. Seventy pieces of cannon, with a long train of ammunition waggons, and four thousand cavalry horses, brought up the rere of this melan- choly procession — the spoils of the capitulation of Ulm. Truly, if that day were, as the imperial bulletin announced it, " one of the most glorious for France,'' it was also the darkest in the history of Austria — when thirty-two regiments of infantry and fifteen of cavalry, with artillery and siege defences of every kind, laid down their arms and surrendered themselves prisoners. Thus in fifteen days from the passing of the Rhine, was the campaign begun and ended, and the Austrian empire prostrate at the feet of Napoleon. 328 OiJU mess. ■ CHAPTER XLVI. rlJiw THE CANTEEN. The Emperor returned that night to Elchingen, accompanied by a numerous staff, among whom was the General D'Auvergne. I re- member well the toilsome ascent of the steep town, which, built on a cliff above the Danube, was now little better than a heap of ruins, from the assault of Ney's division two days before. Scrambling our way over fallen houses and massive fragments of masonry, we reached the square that forms the highest point of the city; from thence we looked down upon the great plain, with the majestic Danube winding along for miles ; in the valley lay Ulm — now sad and silent ; no watch- fires blazed along its deserted ramparts, and through its open gates there streamed the idle tide of soldiers and camp followers, curious to see the place which once they had almost deemed impregnable. The quartier-general was established here, and the different staffs disposed of themselves, as well as they were able, throughout the houses near. Most of these, indeed, had been deserted by their inhabitants, whose dread of the French was a feeling ministered to by every artifice in the power of the Austrian government. As for me, I was but a young campaigner, and might from sheer ignorance have passed my night in the open air, when by good fortune I caught sight of my old companion, Pioche, hurrying along a narrow street, carrying a basket well stored with bottles on his arm. " All, mon Lieutenant, you here, and not supped yet, I'd wager a crown?" " You'd win it too, Pioche ; nor do I see very great chance of my doing so." '• Come along with me, sir ; Mademoiselle Minette lias just opened h ft mttF TOM BURKE OF U OIRS." 333 are in the fourth regiment. However that may be, it will puzzle them sadly this time — you have given him his coup de conyc." " J hope not, sincerely," said I, with a shudder. "And why not," cried mademoiselle in astonishment; "is it not a good service you render to the whole brigade ? Would not the division be all the happier if such as he, and Pichot, and the rest of them ■" " Pichot— Amedee Pichot ?" "Yes, Amedee Pichot, to be sure — =-But what's that knocking outside ? Ah, there's Pioche at the window !" Mademoiselle arwe and walked towards the door, but before she reached it, it Mas opened, and General d'Auvergne entered the room. "Is he here ?" asked he in a low voice. " Yes, general," said mademoiselle, with a curtsey, as she placed the chair for him to sit down. "He is much better — I'll wait outside till you want me," added she, as she left the room and closed the door. " Come, come, my boy," said the kind old man, as he took my hand in his, " don't give way thus. I have made many inquiries about this affair, and they all tend to exculpate you. This fellow, Francois, is the mauvaise tete of the regiment, and I only wish his chastisement had come from some other hand than yours." " Will he live, general ?" asked I, with a smothering fulness in my throat, as I uttered the words. " Not if he be mortal, I believe : the sword pierced his chest from side to side." I groaned heavily as I heard these words ; and burying my head beneath the clothes, became absorbed in my grief. What would I not have endured then of insult and contumely, rather than sutler as I did the terrible load upon my conscience, of a fellow-creature's blood — shed in passion and revenge. How willingly would I have accepted the most despised position among men, to be void of this crime. " It matters not," cried I in my despair — "it matters not how I guide my path, misfortunes beset me at every turn of the way " " Speak not thus," said the general sternly. " The career you have embarked in, is a stormy and a rough one. Other men have fared worse than you have in it — and without repining too. You knew of one such yourself, who in all the saddest bereavements of his hopes, cherished a soldier's heart and a soldier's courage." The allusion to my poor friend, Charles de Meudon, brought the tears to my eyes, and I felt that all my sufferings were little, compared with his. " Let your first care be to get well as soon as you can : happily your name may escape the Emperor's notice in tin's affair, by appearing in the list of wounded — our friend the Maitre d'armes is not likelv to dis- cover on you. The campaign is begun, however, and you must try to have your share of it. The Emperor's staff starts for Munich to-morrow. I must accompany them — but I leave you in good hands here ; and this detachment will occupy Elchingen at least ten davs longer." 334 OVK mess Scarcely had the general left me when mademoiselle re-entered the room. « So, monsieur," said she, smiling archly, " you have been left in my care, it seems. Morblen I it's well the Vivandiere of the regiment is , l(l i a prude, or I should scarcely know how to act. Well, well, one can only do their best. And now, shall I read for you, or shall I leave you quiet for an hour or two r" ' •• .lust so, leave him alone for a little while," said a gruff voice from the end of the bed, at the same time that the huge beard and red moustache of Pioclie appeared peeping above the curtain. " Is he not stupid, that great animal of a cuirassier," said mademoi- selle, starting at the voice so unexpectedly heard. " I say, mon capa- rol, right face— march. Do you hear, sir? You've got the femlle de route. What do you stay for ?" " Ah, mademoiselle," said the poor fellow, as he smoothed down his hair on his forehead, and looked the very impersonation of sheepish admiration. " Well," replied she, as if not understanding his appeal to her feel- ings — " well." A look of total embarrassment — an expression of complete bewilder- ment was his only reply ; while his eyes wandered round the room till they met mine, and then as if suddenly conscious that a third party was present, he blushed deeply, and said — " Too true, mon Lieutenant, she does with me what she will." " Don't believe him, monsieur," interposed she quickly. " I told him to get knocked on the head a dozen times, and he's never done so." " I would though, and right soon too, if you were only in earnest," said he, with a vehemence that bespoke the truth of the assertion. " There, there," said she, with a smile, as she held out her hand to him, " we are friends." The poor fellow pressed it to his lips with the respectful devotion of a Bayard ; and with a muttered "This evening," left the room. " It is no small triumph, mademoiselle," said I " that you have in- spired such a passion in the hardy breast of the cuirassier." A saucy shake of the head, as though she did not like the compli- ment, was the only reply. She bent her head down over her work, and seemed absorbed in its details : while I, reverting to my own cares, became silent also. "And so, monsieur," said she, after along pause — "and so, you deem this conquest of mine a very wonderful thing." "You mistake me," said I, eagerly — "you mistake me much. My surprise was rather that one like Pioche, good-hearted, simple fellow as he is, should possess the refinement of feeling " " A clever flank movement of yours, Lieutenant," interposed she, with a phasant laugh ; "and I'll not attack you again. And, after all, 1 (mi a little proud of my conquest." " The confession is a Mattering one, from one who doubtless has had a great many t<> boa! t of." V great many, indeed !" replied she naively — " So many that I TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 335 can't reckon them— not to boast of, however, as you term it. Parbleu, some of them had little of that But here comes the doctor, and I must not let him see us talking. Ma foi, they little think when their backs are turned, how seldom we mind their directions." The surgeon's visit, was a matter of a few seconds; he contented himself with feeling my pulse and reiterating his advice as to quiet. " You have got the best nurse in the army, monsieur," said he, as he took his leave; "I have only one caution to give you — take care, if an affection of the heart, be not a worse affair than a thrust of a small sword. I have known such a termination of an illness befoie now." Mademoiselle made no reply, save an arch look of half nnger, and left the room; and I, wearied and exhausted, sank into a heavy slumber. CHAPTER XLV. THE " VIVANDIERE OF THE FOURTH." For three entire weeks my wound confined me to the limits of my chamber; and yet, were it not for my impatience to be up and stirring, my life was not devoid of its happiness. Every movement of the army, in its most minute detail, was daily reported to me by Mademoiselle Minette. The bulletins of the Em- peror, the promotions, the " on dits" of the bivouac and the march, brought by the various battalions, as they moved on towards the east, were all related by her, with such knowledge of military phrase and soldiers' style, as to amuse me, equally by her manner, as by what she told. The cuirassiers marched soon after I received my wound, and though attached to the corps, she remained behind at Elchingen, having pledged herself, as she said, to the general, to restore me safe and sound before she left me. The little window beside my bed offered a widely extended view over the great plain beneath, and there I have sat the entire day, watching the columns of cavalry and infantry, as they poured along, seemingly without ceasing, towards the Lower Danube. Sometimes the faint sounds of the soldiers' songs would reach me — the rude chorus of a regiment timing their step to some warrior's cliaunt — • and set my heart a beating to be with them once more. Sometimes my eye would rest upon the slow train of waggons surmounted with a white flag, that wound their way heavily in the rear, and my spirit sunk as I thought over the poor wounded fellows that were thus borne 335 OUR MESS. onward with the tide of war, as the crushed serpent trails his wounded folds behind him. Mademoiselle seldom left me. Seated at her work, often for hours without speaking, she would follow the train of her own thoughts, and when by chance she gave a passing glance through the window at the scene beneath, some single word would escape her, as to the regi- ments or their officers, few of which were unknown to her, at least by reputation. I could not but mark that within the last twelve or fourteen days she seemed more sad and depressed than before — the lively gaiety of her character had given place to a meek and suffering melancholy, which I could not help attributing to the circumstances in which she was placed, away from all her ordinary pursuits, and the companions of her daily life. I hinted as much one day, and was about to insist on her leaving me — when she suddenly interrupted me, saying — " It is all true. I am sad ; and know not why — for I never felt happier ; yet, if you wished me to be gay, as I used to be, I could not for the world. It is not because I am far from those I have learned to look on as my brothers. Not so — my changeful fortune has often placed me thus. Perhaps it's your fault, mon Lieutenant," said she, suddenly turning her eyes full upon me. " Mine, Minette ! Mine !" said I, in amazement. She blushed deeply, and held down her head, while her bosom heaved several times convulsively ; and then, while a deathly paleness spread over her cheek, she said, in a low broken voice : — " Perhaps it is because 1 am an orphan, and never knew what it was to have those, whose dispositions I should imitate, and whose tastes I should study ; but somehow I feel even as though I could not help becoming like those I am near to, following them — ay, and out- stripping them — in all their likings and dislikings." " And so, as you seem sad and sorrowful, it is more than probable that you took the colour of my thoughts. I should feel sorry, Minette, to think it were thus — I should ill repay all your kindness to in* — I must try and wear a happier countenance." " Do so — and mine will soon reflect it," said she, laughing ; "but, perhaps you have cause for sorrow," added she, as she stole a glance at me beneath her eyelashes. " You know, Minette ! that I am an orphan like yourself," said I, half evading the question. " Ah !" cried she passionately, " if I had been a man, I should like to be such a one as Murat there. See how his black eyes sparkle, and his proud lip curls, when the roll of artillery, or the clattering of a platoon is heard — how his whole soul is in the fight. I remember once — it was at the Iser — his brigade was stationed beneath the hill, and had no orders to move forward for several hours — he used to get off his horse, and walk about, and, endeavour, by pushing the smoke away thus with his hand, and almost kneeling to the ground, to catch a view of the battle, and then he would spring into the saddle, and for sheer pas- sion dash the spurs into his horse's flanks, till he reared and ** *% t TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 337 plunged again. I watched him thus for hours. I loved to look on him, chafing and fretting, like his own mettled charger, lie was so handsome ! " ' A drink, Minette ! Something to cool my lips, for heaven's sake,' said he at last, as he saw me standing near him. I tilled the little cup you see here with wine, and handed it to him. Scarcely had he raised it to his lips, when an aid-de-camp galloped up, and whispered some words in haste. "'Ha, ha!' cried he, with a shout of joy — 'they want us, then — the squadrons will advance by sections — and charge! — charge!' — and with that he flung the goblet from him to the ground, and when I took it up, I found that with the grasp of his strong fingers he had crushed it nearly together. See here. I never would let it be changed. It is just as at the time he clasped it, and I keep it as a souvenir of the prince." She took from a little shelf the cup, as she spoke, and held it up before me, with the devoted admiration with which some worship- per would regard a holy relic. " And that," said Minette, as she pressed to her lips a faded cockade, whose time-worn tints still showed the tri-colored emblems of the republic — " that do I value above the cross of the Legion itself.'' " Whose was it, Minette ? Some brave soldier's, I'm sure." " And you may be sure, that was the cockade of Le Premier Grena- dier de la France — La Tour d'Auvergne. The cousin of your own general." Seeing that I had not heard before of him, she paused for a few seconds in amazement, and then muttered — " A brave school to train the youth of Fiance it must be, where the name of La Tour d'Auvergne was never mentioned." Having thus vented her indignation, she proceeded to tell me of her hero, who, though descended from one of the most distinguished families of France, yet persisted in carrying his musket in the ranks of the republican army — never attaining to a higher grade, nor known by any other title than the " Premier Grenadier de la France" — foremost in every post of danger — the volunteer at every emergency of more than ordinary peril — he refused every proffer of advancement, and lived among his comrades the simple life of a soldier. " He fell at Neubourg," said mademoiselle, " scarce a day's march from here ; they buried liim on the field, and placed him dead, as he had been ever while living, with his face towards the enemy. And you never heard of him — ban Ciell it is almost incredible. You never brigaded with the forty-fifth of the line — that's certain.'* " And why so ?" " Because they call his name at every parade muster, as though he were still alive and well. The first man called is La Tour d'Auvergne, and the first soldier answers, ' mort sur le champ de bataillc.' That's a prouder monument than your statues and tomb-stones. Is it not?" " Indeed is it," said I, to whom the anecdote was then new, though I afterwards lived to hear it corroborated in every respect. With many such traits of the service did mademoiselle beguile the time — uow telling of the pleasant life of the cantonment — now of the wild MESS, NO. XXIV. — VOL. II. Z 338 OUR MESS. scenes of the battle-field. Young as she was, she had seen much of both, and learned around the bivouac fires, the old traditions of the revolutionary armies, and the brave deeds of the first veterans of France. In such narratives, too, her own enthusiastic nature burst forth in all its vehemence — her eyes would sparkle, and her words come rapidly, as she described some tierce attack, or headlong charge — and it was' impossible to listen without catching up a portion of her ardour, so wrapt up did she herself become in the excitement of her story. Thus, one evening, while describing the passage of the Adige, after detailing most circumstantially the position and strength of the attacking columns, and describing how each successive advance was repulsed by the murderous fire of the artillery, she proceeded to relate the plan of a Hank movement, effected by some light infantry regiments, thrown across the river a considerable distance up the stream. " We came along," said she, "under the shade of some willows, and at last reached the ford — the leading companies halted, two officers sounded the river, and found that it was passable. I was close by at t h e time — it was the colonel Lajolais who commanded the brigade, and he asked me for a ' fjoutte.' 'It may be the last you'll ever give me, Minette,' said he, ' 1 don't expect to see you again.' " ' Are you going to remain at this side, colonel ?' said I. " < No, parbleu,' said he, ' not when the twenty-second cross to the other.' " ' Neither am I, then,' said I, < my place is with the head of the battalion.' Well, well, they all pressed me to stay back — they said a thousand kind things too — but that only decided me the more to go on — and as the signal-rocket was fired, the word was given, and on we went. For the first eight or ten paces, it was mere wading — but suddenly a grenadier in the front called out, ' Gare, lift your muskets, it's dec]) here ;' and so it was — with one plunge down I went, but they seized me by the arms, and carried me along — and some way or other we reached the bank. Morbleu I I felt half-drowned — but there was little time to think over these things, for scarcely had the column formed, when the cry of 'cavalry' was given, and down came the lancers with a swoop, but we were all ready. The flank com- panies fell back, and formed in square, and a tremendous volley sent them off faster than they came. 'Now, then, push forward double quick' — said the old colonel — ' the pas de charge.' Alas! the poor little drummer was lying dead at his feet. The thought suddenly seized me, I sprang forward, unstrung his drum, threw the strap over my shoulder, and beat the ' pas de charge' — a cheer ran along the whole battalion, and on we went. Mort de del ! I was never so near the fire before. There was the enemy, scarce two hundred yards off — two great columns, with artillery between, waiting for us. ' Keep her back — keej) back, Minette — brave Jille.' I heard no more — a shot came whizzing past, and struck me here." Site pulled down her dress, he spoke, and disclosed the scar of a bullet's track on her white shoulder — then, as if suddenly recollecting, she blushed deeply, drew her kerchief closely around her, and muttered in a low voice, "Ma TOM BORKE OF " OURS." 339 foi — how these things make one forget to be a woman." And with that she hung down her head, and despite all I could say would not utter another word. Such was the " Vivandiere " of the fourth — blending in her character the woman's weakness, and the soldier's ardour — the delicacy of feeling which not even the life of camps and bivouacks could eradicate, with the wild enthusiasm for glory — the passion of her nation. It needed not her dark eyes, shaded with their long black fringe — her oval face, whose freckles but displayed the transparent skin beneath — her graceful figure, and her elastic step, to make her an object of attraction in the regiment — nor could I be surprised to learn as I did, how many a high oiler of marriage had been made to her, by those soldiers of fortune, whose gallantry and daring had won them rank and honours in the service. To value at their real price such attractions, one should meet them far away, and remote from the ordinary habits of the world, in the wild, reckless career of the camp — on the long march — beside the weary watch-fire — ay, on the very field of battle — amid the din, the clamour, and the smoke — the cheers, the cries of carnage: then, indeed, such an apparition had something magical in it. To see that tender girl tripping along fearlessly from rank to rank, as though she had a charmed life — now saluting with her hand some brave soldier, as he rode by to the charge — now stooping beside the wounded, and holding to his bloodless lips the longed-for cup : to watch her as s!.e rode gracefully at the head of the regiment, or lay beside the fire of the bivouac, relating with a woman's grace some story of the cam- paign — while the grey-bearded veteran and the raw youth, hung 0 oun mhss. On every side now, wore to be seen the flying columns of the allies, hotly followed by the victorious French. The guns still thundered at intervals ; but the loud roar of battle was subdued to the crashing din of charging squadrons, and the distant cries of the vanquishers and the vanquished. Around, and about, lay the wounded, in all the fearful attitudes of suffering ; and as we were fully a league in advance of our original position, no succour had yet arrived for the poor fellows whose courage had carried them into the very squares of the enemy. Most of the staff— myself among the number — were despatched to- the rear for assistance. I remember, as I rode along at my fastest speed, between the columns of infantry and the fragments of artillery, which covered the ground, that a peloton of dragoons came thundering past, while a voice shouted out "Place, Placer supposing it was tjie Emperor himself, I drew up to one side, and uncovering my head, sat in patience till he had passed, when, with the speed of four horses urged to their utmost, a caleche flew by, two men dressed like couriers seated on the box : they made for the high-road towards Vienna, and soon disappeared in the distance. "What can it mean?" said I, to an officer beside me — "not his Ma- jesty, surely ? " "No, no," replied he, smiling ; "it is General Lebrun on his way to Paris, with the news of the victory. The Emperor is down at Reygern yonder, where he has just written the bulletin. I warrant you, he fol- lows that caleche with his eye ; he'd rather see a battery of guns carried ofl' by the enemy, than an axle break there this moment." Thus closed the great day of Austerlitz — a hundred cannons, forty- three thousand prisoners, and thirty-two colours, being the spoils of this — the greatest of even Napoleon's victories. MM tom BOftfce of ; 'oins." 3G1 CHAPTER XLIX. THE FIELD AT MIDNIGHT. rio-iks and rendering them such aid, as lay in their power. Dreadful cloaks, ana rumen rPvMSP to the gorgeous splendour of that cool draught-now ^ cheering ^J*™^* t0 assist themselves. £l, «, ; while one ^^T^^— ^ Mood. , /• i, i im .,p T rode forward in the direction of Having secured a fresh hoi.e I rode ^ & Kussian SsScSSSgSsaarsaa 3(32 ora mess. should find few, if any, of our comrades living there. " Ventre bleu ! Lieutenant! you can't expect it ; the first four squadrons went down like one man ; for when ourfellows fell wounded from their horses, they always sabred or shot them as they lay." I found his information but too correct. Lines of dead men lay beside their horses, ranged as they stood in battle, while before them lav the bodies of the Russian guard, their gorgeous uniform all slashed villi gold, marking them out, amid the dull russet costumes of their comrades. In many places were they intermingled, and showed where a hand-to-hand combat had been fought ; and I saw two, clasped rigidly in each other's grasp, who had evidently been shot by others, while struggling for the mastery. " I told you, mon Lieutenant, it was useless to come here ; this was « a la mort ' while it lasted ; and, if it had continued much longer, in the same fashion, it's hard to say which of us had been going over the field now with lanterns." Too true, indeed. Not one wounded man did we meet with, nor did one human voice break the silence around us. "Perhaps," said I, " they may have already carried up the w r ounded to the village yonder. I see a great blaze of light there : ride forward, and learn if it be so." When I had dismissed the orderly, I dismounted from my horse, and walked carefully along the ridge of ground, anxious to ascertain if any poor fellow still remained alive, amid that dreadful heap of dead. A low brushwood covered the ground in certain places, and here I per- ceived but few of the cavalry had penetrated, while the infantry were all tirailleurs of the Russian guard, bayoneted by our advancing columns. As I approached the lake, the ground became more rugged and uneven, and I was about to turn back, when my eye caught the faint glimmer- in"- of a light reflected in the water. Picqueting my horse where he stood, I advanced alone towardsthe light, which I saw now was at the foot of a little rocky crag beside the lake. As I drew near, I stopped to listen, and could distinctly hear the deep tones of a man's voice, as if broken at intervals by pain, while in his accents I thought I could trace a tone of indignant passion, rather than of bodily suffering. " Leave me, leave me where I am," cried he peevishly, " I thought I might have had my last few moments tranquil, when I staggered thus far." " Come, come, comrade," said another in a voice of comforting — . " come, thou wert never faint-hearted before. Thou hast had thy share of bruises, and cared little about them too. Art dry?" " Yes, give me another drink. Ah !" cried he in an excited tone, " they can't stand before the ' Cuirassiers of the Guard.' Sucre bleu ! how proud ' Le petit Caporal ' will be of this day." Then, dropping his voice, he muttered, — " What, care I, who's proud. I have my billet and must be going." " Not so, mon enfant; thou'lt have the cross for thy day's work; he knows yon well ; 1 saw him smile to-day, when thou mad'st the salute in passing." " Didst thou that ?" said the wounded man with eagerness; "did he TOM BURKE OF "OURS." 363 smile ? Ah, villain ! how you can allure men to shed their heart's-hlood by a smile. He knows me ! That he ought, and if he but knew how I lav here now, he'd send the best surgeon of his staff to look after me." " That lie would/ and that he will ; courage and cheer up." " No, no ; I don't care for it now; I'll never go back to the regi- ment again — I couldn't do it !" As he spoke the last words, his voice became fainter and fainter, and, at last, was lost in a hiccup — partly, as it seemed, from emotion, and partly from bodily suffering. " Qui vive?" cried his companion, as the clash of my sabre announced my approach. " An officer of the eighth hussars," said I in a low voice, fearing to disturb the wounded man as he lay with his head sunk on his knees. " Too late, comrade, too late," said he in a stifled tone ; " the order of route has come — I must away." " A brave cuirassier of the guard should never say so while he has a chance left to serve his Emperor in another field of battle." " Vive V Empereur, vive VEmpereur /" shouted he madly, as he lifted his helmet and tried to wave it above his head ; but the exertion brought on a violent fit of coughing which choked his utterance, while a torrent of red blood gushed from his mouth, and deluged his neck and chest. " Ah, mon Dieu, that cry has been his death," said the other, wringing his hands in utter misery. " Where is he wounded?" said I, kneeling down beside the sick man, who now lay, half on his face, upon the grass. " In the chest, through the lung," whispered the other " he doesn't know the doctor saw him ; it was he told me ; there was no hope. ' You may leave him,' said he, ' an hour or two more are all that's left him' — as if I could leave a comrade we all loved. My poor fellow, it is a sad day for the old fourth when thou are taken from them." " Ha, was he of the fourth, then ?" said I, remembering the regiment. " Yes, parbleu! and though but a corporal, he was well known throughout the army — Pioche " " Pioche," cried I in agony, " is this Pioche ?" " Here," said the wounded man, hearing the name, and answering as if on parade, " here, mon Commandant, but too faint, I'm afraid, for duty ; I feel weak to-day," said he, as he pressed his hand upon his side, and then slowly sank back against the rock, and dropped his arms at either side. " Come," said I, " we must lose no time ; let us carry him to the rear. If nothing else can be done he'll meet with care " u Hush ! mon Lieutenant, don't let him hear you speak of that ; he stormed and swore so much when the ' ambulance ' passed, and they wanted to bring him along, that it brought on a coughing fit, just like what you saw, and he lay in a faint for half an hour aftpr ; he vows he'll never stir from where he is — truth is, Commandant," said he in the lowest whisper, " he is determined to die ; when his squadron fell back from the Russian square, he rode on their bayonets, and cut at the men 36-1 OUR MESS. while the artillery was playing all about htm. lie told me this morning he'd never leave the Held." " Poor fellow, what was the meaning of this sad resolution ?" " Ma foi I a mere triHe after all," said the other, shrugging his shoulders, and making a true French grimace of contempt ; «' you'll smile m hen I'll tell you ; but he takes it to heart, poor fellow. His mistress has been false to him ; no great matter that, you'd say ; but so it is, and nothing»more ; see, how still he lies now ; is he sleeping ?" " I fear not, he looks exhausted from loss of blood ; come, we must have him out of this ; here comes my orderly to assist us; if we carry him to the road, I'll find a carriage of some sort." I said this in a tone of command, to silence any scruples he might still have about obeying his comrade, in preference to the orders of an officer. He obeyed with the instinct of discipline, and proceeded to fold his cloak, in such a manner that we could carry the wounded man between us. The poor corporal, too weak to resist us, faint from bleeding, and semi-stupid, suffered himself to be lifted upon the cloak, and never uttered a word or a cry, as we bore him along between us. We had not proceeded far when we came up with a convoy conducting several carts with the wounded to the convent of Reygern, which now had been fitted up as an hospital. On one of these we secured a place for our poor friend, and walked along beside him towards the convent. As we went along, I questioned his comrade closely on the point, and he told me, that Pioche had resolved never to survive the battle, and had taken leave of his friends the evening before. " Ah, parbleu !" added he with energy, " mademoiselle is pretty enough ; there's no denying that, but her head is turned by flattery and soft speeches ; all the gay young fellows of the hussar regiment, the aide-de-camps — ay, and some of the Generals too — have paid her so much attention, that it could not be expected she'd care for a poor corporal — not but that Pioche is a brave fellow and a fine soldier — sacristi ! he'd be no discredit to any girl's choice ; but Minette " " Minette, the Vivandiere " " Ay, to be sure, mo?i Lieutenant — I'd warrant you must have known her ?" " What of her — where is she ?" said T, burning with impatience. " She's with the wounded, up at Reygern yonder. They sent for her to Ileilbrun yesterday where she was with the'reserve battalions. Ma foi ! you don't think our fellows would do without Minette, at the " ambulance," where there was a battle to be fought. They say, they'd hard work enough to make her come up, after all — she's a strange girl — that she is." " How was that? has she taken offence with the fourth?" " No, that is not it ; she likes the old regiment in her heart. I'd never believe she didn't, but " Here he dropped Jus voice to a low whisper, as if dreading to be overheard by the wounded man — " but they say — who knows if it's true — that when she was left behind at Mm or Elehingen, or somewhere up there on the Danube, that there was a young fellow — I heard his name, too, but I forget it — who was TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 365 brought in, badly wounded, and that mademoiselle was left to watch and nurse him; lie got well in time, for the thing was not so serious as they thought ; and, what do you think was the return he made the poor girl — he seduced her !" "It's false, false as hell!" cried I, bursting with passion; "who has dared to spread such a calumny?" " Don't be angry, mon Lieutenant ;" there are plenty to answer for the report ; and if it was yourself " " Yes ; it was by my bed-side she watched ; it was to me she gave that care and kindness by which I recovered from a dangerous wound ; but so far from this base requital " " Why did she leave you, then, and march night and day with the chasseur brigade into the Tyrol? — why did she tell her friends, that she'd never see the old fourth again ? — why did she fret herself into an illness " " Did she do this ? poor girl." " Ay, that she did ; but, mayhap, you never heard of all this. I can only say, mon Lieutenant, that you'd be safer in a broken square, charged by a heavy squadron, than among the fourth, after what you've done." I turned indignantly from him without a reply, for while my pride revolted at answering an accusation from such a quarter, my mind Mas harassed by the sad fate of poor Minette, and perplexed how to account, for her sudden departure. My silence, at once arrested my companion's speech, and we walked along the remainder of the way, without a word on either side. The day was just breaking when the first wagon of the convoy entered the gates of the convent. It was an enormous mass of building, originally destined for the reception of about three thousand persons, for, in addition to the priestly inhabitants, there were two great hospitals, and several schools, included within the walls. This, before the battle, had been tenanted by the staffs of many general officers, and the corps of engineers and sappers, but now was entirely devoted to the wounded of either army, for Austrians and Russians were every where to be met with, receiving equal care and attention, with our own troops. It was the first time I had witnessed a military hospital after a battle, and the impression was too fearful to be ever forgotten by me. The great chambers, and spacious rooms of the convent, were soon found inadequate for the numbers who arrived ; and already the long corridors and passages of the building, were crowded with beds, between which a narrow path scarcely permitted one person to pass. Here, promiscuously, without regard to rank, officers in command of regi- ments, lay side by side with the meanest privates, waiting the turn of medical aid ; as no other order was observed than the necessities of each case demanded. A black mark above the bed, indicating that the patient's stase was hopeless, proclaimed that no further attention need be bestowed ; while the same mark, with a white bar across it, implied that it was a case for operation. In this way, the surgeons who 366 OUR MESS. arrived at each moment from different corps of the army, discovered, at a glance, where their services were required, and not a minute's time was lost. The dreadful operations of surgery, for which, in the events of every day life, every provision of delicate secrecy, and every minute detail which can alleviate dread, are so rigidly studied, were here going for- ward on every side — the horrihle preparations moved from bed to bed, with a rapidity which showed that where suffering so abounded, there was no time for sympathy ; and the surgeons, with arms bared to the shoulder, and bedaubed with blood, toiled away, as though life no longer moved in the creeping flesh beneath the knife, and human agony spoke not aloud, with every motion of their hand. "Place there — move forward," said an hospital-surgeon, as they carried up the litter on which Pioche lay stretched and senseless. " What's this?" cried a surgeon, leaning forward, and placing his hand on the sick man's pulse. "Ah! — take him back again — it's all over there." " Oh, no !" cried I in agony, " it can scarcely be — they lifted him alive from the wagon." " lie's not dead, sir," replied the surgeon in a whisper, " but he will soon be — there's internal bleeding going on from that wound, and a few hours, or less, perhaps, must close the scene." "Can nothing be done — nothing?" " I fear not." He opened the jacket of the wounded man as he spoke, and slitting the inner clothes asunder with a quick stroke of his scissors, disclosed a tremendous sabre-wound in the side. " That is not the worst," said he ; " look here," pointing to a small bluish mark of a bullet-hole, above it — " here lies the mischief." An hospital-aid whispered something at the instant in the surgeon's ear, to which he quickly replied — " When ?" " This instant, sir, the ligature slipped, and " " Remove him," was the reply. " Now, sir, I have abed for your poor fellow here; but I have little hope to give you: his pulse is stronger, otherwise the endeavour would be lost time." While they earned the litter forward, I perceived that another party were lifting from a bed near, a figure, over whose face the sheet carelessly thrown. I guessed from the gestures that the form they lifted was lifeless ; the heavy sumph of the body upon the ground, shoved it beyond a doubt. The bearers replaced the dead man, by the dying body of poor Pioche, and from a vague feeling of curiosity, I stooped down and drew back the; sheet from the face of the corpse. As I did :iv limbs trembled, and I haned back almost fainting against the wall. Pale with the palor of death, but scarcely altered from* life, I beheld the dead features of Amedee Pichot, the captain, whose inso- lence bad left an unsettled quarrel between us. The man, for whose coming I waited, to expiate an open insult, now lay cold and lifeless at my feet. What a rush of sensations passed through my mind as I gazed mi that motionless mass ; and oh, with what gratitude my heart gushed ; to think that he did not fall by my hand! TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 367 " A brave soldier, but a quarrelsome friend," said the surgeon, stooping down to examine the wound, with all the indifference of a man who regarded life as a mere problem. " It was a cannon-shot carried it off." Aa he said this, he disclosed the mangled remains of a limb, torn from the trunk, too high to permit of amputation. " Poor Amedee, it was the death he always wished for. It was a strange horror he had, of falling by the hand of an adversary, rather than being carried oft', thus — and now for the cuirassier." So saying, he turned towards the bed on which Pioche lay, still as death itself. A few minutes' careful investigation of the case, enabled him to pronounce that although the chances were many against reco- very, yet it was not altogether hopeless. " All will depend on the care of whoever watches him," said the sur- geon. " Symptoms will arise, requiring prompt attention, and a change in treatment, and this is one of those cases where a nur>e is worth a hundred doctors. Who takes charge of this bed ?" he called aloud. " Minette, Monsieur," said a sergeant. " She has lain down to take a little rest, for she was quite worn out with fatigue." "Me void .'" said a silvery voice I knew at once to be hers ; and the same instant she pierced the crowd around the bed, and approached the patient. No sooner had she beheld the features of the sick man, than she reeled back, and grasped the arms of the persons on either side. For a few seconds she stood, with her hands pressed upon her face, and when she withdrew them, herjeatures were almost ghastly in their hue, while with a great effort over her emotion, she said in a low voice — " Can he recover?" '' " Yes, Minette," replied the surgeon, " and will, if care avail any thing. Just hear me for a moment." With that he drew her to one side, and commenced to explain the treatment he proposed to adopt. As he spoke, her cloak, which up to this instant she wore, dropped from her shoulders, and she stood there in the dress of the Vivandiere — a short frock coat, of light blue, with a thin gold braid upon the collar and the sleeve — loose trowsers of white jean, strapped beneath her boots. A silk sash of scarlet and gold en- twined, was fastened round her waist, and fell in a long fringe at her side ; while a cap of blue cloth, with a gold band and tassel, hung by a hook at her girdle. Simple as was the dress, it displayed to perfec- tion the symmetry of her figure aud her carriage, and suited the cha- racter of her air and gesture, which, abrupt and impatient at times, was almost boyish in the wayward freedom of her action. The surgeon soon finished his directions, the crowd separated, and Minette alone remained by the sick man's bed. For some minutes her cares did not permit her to look up, but when she did, a slight cry broke from her, and she sank down upon the seat at the bed-side. " Minette, dear Minette, you are not angry with me," said I in a low and trembling tone ; " I have not done aught to displease you — have I so?" 3GS ol a mess. She answered not a word, but a blush of the deepest scarlet suffused her fare and temples, and lit r bosom heaved almost convulsively. ■• To you I owe my life," continued I with earnestness ; "nay more, I owe the kindness which made of a sick bed a place of pleasant thoughts and happy memories. Can I then have offended you, while my whole heart was bursting with gratitude ?" A paleness — more striking than the blush that preceded it — now stole over her features, but she uttered not a word. _ller eyes turned from me, and fell upon her own figure, and I saw the tears fill up and roll slowly along her cheeks. ""Why did you leave me, Minette," said I, woundup by her obstinate silence beyond further endurance — " Did the few words of impa- tience " " No — no — no," broke she in, " not that — not that." " What then ; tell me, for heaven's sake, how have I earned your displeasure : believe me, I have met with too little kindness in my way through life, not to feel poignantly the loss of a friend. What was it, I b es e ec h you?" " Oh, do not ask me!" cried she, with streaming eyes — " do not, I beg of you ; enough that you know, and this I swear to you, that no fault of yours was in question. You were always good and always kind to me — too kind — too good — but not even your teaching could alter the way- wardness of my nature. Speak of this no more, I ask you, as the greatest favour you can bestow on me. See here," cried she, while her lips trembled with emotion, "I have need of all my courage to be of use to him, and you will not, I am sure, render me unequal to my task." " But we are friends, Minette — friends as before," said I, taking her hand, and pressing it within mine. " Yes, friends," muttered she in a broken voice, while she turned her head from me. " Adieu ! Monsieur, adieu !" "Adieu, then, since you wish it so, Minette; but whatever your secret reason for this change towards me, you never can alter the deep- rooted feeling of my heart, which makes me know myself your friend for ever.* The more I thought of Minette's conduct, the more puzzled I was. No jealousy on the part of Pioche could explain her abrupt de- parture from Klchingen, and her resolve never to rejoin the fourth. She was indeed a strange girl, wayward and self-willed, but her im- pulses all had their source in high feelings of honour, and exalted pride. It might have been, that some chance expression had given her offence ; yet she denied this — but still, her former frankness was gone, and a sense of coldness, if not distrust, had usurped its place. I could make nothing of it. One thing alone did I feel convinced of — she did not love Pioche. Poor fellow, with all the fine traits of his honest nature, the manly simplicity and openness of his character, he had not those arts of pleasing, which win their way with a woman's mind ; besides, that Minette, from habit and tone of thought, had imbibed feelings and ideas of a very different class in society, and, with a feminine tact, had TOM BUHK.E OF " 0UB8." 369 contrived to form acquaintance with, and a relish for, the tastes and pleasures of the cultivated world. The total subversion of all social order, effected by the Revolution, had opened the path of ambition in life equally to women, as to men ; and all the endeavours of the Consulate, and the Empire, had not sobered down the minds of France to their former condition. The sergeant, to-day, saw no reason why he might not wear his epaulettes, to-morrow, and in time exchange his shako even for a crown; and so the Yivandiere, whose life was passed in the intoxicating atmosphere of glory, might well dream of greatness which should be hers, hereafter, and of the time, when, as the wife of a marshal or a peer of Prance, she would walk the salons of the Tuileries, as proudly as the daughter of a Rohan or a Tavanne. There was then nothing vain or presumptuous in the boldest flight of ambition. However glittering the goal, it was beyond the reach of none ; and the hopes, which in better-ordered communities had been deemed absurd, seemed here but fair and ♦reasonable ; and from this element alone, proceeded some of the greatest actions, and by far the greatest portion of the unhappiness of the period. The mind of the nation was unfixed : men had not as yet resolved themselves into those grades and classes, by the means of which public opinion is brought to bear upon individuals, from those of his own condition. Each Avas a law unto himself, suggesting his own means of advancement, and esti- mating his own powers of success ; and the result was, a general scram- ble for rank, dignity, and honours, the unfitness of the possessor for which, when attained, brought neither contempt nor derision. The epaulette was noblesse — the shako, a coronet. What wonder, then, if she, whose personal attractions were so great, and whose manners and tone of thought were so much above her condition, had felt the stir- rings of that ambition within her heart, which now appeared to be the moving spirit of the nation. Lost in such thoughts, I turned homewards towards my quarters, and was already some distance from the convent, when a dragoon gal- loped up to my side, and asked, eagerly, if I were the surgeon of the sixth grenadiers. As I replied in the negative, he muttered something between his teeth, and added louder, " The poor General — it will be too late after all ;"' so saying, and before I could question him further, he set spurs to his horse, and dashing onwards, soon disappeared in the darkness of the night. A few minutes afterwards I beheld a num- ber of lanterns straight before me, on the narrow road, and as I came nearer, a sentinel called out, " Halt there ; stand." I gave my name and rank, when the man advancing towards me, said in a half whisper, " It is our General, sir — they say he cannot be brought any farther, and they must perform the operation here." The soldier's voice trembled at every word, and he could scarcely falter out, in reply to my question, the name of the wounded officer. " General St. Hilaire, sir, who led the grenadiers on the Pratzen,"' said the poor fellow, his sorrow struggling with his pride. MESS, NO. XXV. — VOL. II. '1 B 370 otm mess. I pressed forward, and there, on a litter, lay the figure of a large and singularly fine-looking man. His coat, which was covered with orders, lay open, and discovered a shirt, stained and clotted with blood ; but his most dangerous wound was from a grape shot in the thigh, which shattered the bone, and necessitated amputation. A young staff surgeon, the only medical man present, was kneeling at his side, and occupied in compressing some wounded vessels to arrest the bleeding, which, at the slightest stir of the patient, broke out anew. The re- mainder of the group were grenadiers of his own regiment, in whose sad and sorrow-struck faces, one might read the affection his men invariably bore him. " Is he coming ? Can you hear any one coming?" said the young surgeon, in an anxious whisper to the soldier beside him. " No, sir, but he cannot be far off now," replied the man. " Shall I ride back to Keygern for assistance ?" said I, in a low voice, to the surgeon. • " I thank you, sir," said the wounded man, in a low, calm tone — for with the quick ear of suffering he had overheard my question — " I thank you, but my orderly has already been sent thither. If you could relieve my young friend here from his fatiguing duty for a little, you would render us both a service — I am truly grieved to see him so much exhausted." " No, no, sir," stammered the youth, as the tears ran fast down his cheeks, " this is my place, I will not leave it." " Kind fellow," muttered the General, as he pressed his hand gently on the young man's arm, " I can bear this better than you can." " Ah, here he comes now," said the sentinel, and the same moment a man dismounted from his horse, and came forward towards us. It was Louis, the surgeon of the Emperor himself, despatched by Napo- leon the moment he heard of the event. At any other moment, perhaps, the abrupt demeanour of this cele- brated surgeon would have savoured little of delicacy or feeling, nor even then, could I forgive the sudden announcement in which he con- veyed to the sufferer, that immediate amputation must be performed, j " No chance left but this, Louis ?" said the General. " None, sir," replied the doctor, while he unlocked an instrument case, and busied himself in preparation for the operation. " Can you defer it a little — an hour or two I mean ?" " An hour perhaps, not more certainly." " But am I certain of your services, then, Louis?" said the General, trying to smile. " You know I always promised myself your aid, when this hour came." " I shall return in an hour," replied the doctor, pulling out his watch, "I am going to Rapp's cjuarters." " Poor Bapp ; is he wounded ?" "A mere sabre cut; but Sebastiani has suffered more severely. Now, then, Lanusse," said he, addressing the young surgeon, " you remain here — continue as you are doing — and in an hour" " In an hour," echoed the wounded man, with a shudder, as though TOM BURKE OF " OURS." 3/1 the anticipation of the dreadful event had thrilled through his very heart ; nor was it till the retiring sounds of the surgeon's horse had died away in the distance, that his features recovered their former calm and tranquil expression. " A prompt fellow is Louis," said he, after a pause, "and though one might like somewhat more courtesy in the Faubourg, yet on the field of battle it is all for the best — this is no place, nor time, for com- pliments." The young man answered not a word, either not daring to criticise too harshly his superior ; or, perhaps, his emotion at the moment was too strong for utterance. In reply to my offer to remain with him, however, he thanked me heartily, and seemed gratified that he was not to be left alone in such a trying emergency. " Come," said St. Hilaire, after a pause, " I have asked for time, and am already forgetting how to employ it.'' " Who can write here ? can you, Guilbert r" " Alas ! no, sir," said a dark grenadier, blushing" tothe very eyes. " If you will permit a stranger, sir," said I, " I will be but too proud and too happy to render you any assistance in my power. I am on the staff' of General D'Auvergne, and " " A French officer, sir," interrupted he ; " quite enough ; I ask for no other guerdon of your honour. Sit down here, then, and — but first try if you can discover a pocket-book in my sabertaseh ; I hope it has not been lost." " Here it is, General," said a soldier, coming forward with it ; "I found it on the ground beside you." " Well, then, I will ask you to write down from my dictation, a few lines, which, should this affair " he faltered slightly here ; " this affair prove unfortunate, you Mill undei'take to convey, by some means or other, to the address I shall give you in Paris. It is not a will, I as- sure you," continued he, with a faint smile ; " I have no wealth to leave ; but 1 know his majesty too well to fear any thing on that score ; but my children, I wish to give some few directions " Here he stopped for several minutes, and then, in a calm voice, added, " Whenever you are ready " It was with a suffering spirit, and a faltering hand, I wrote down from his dictation, some short sentences, addressed to each member of his family. Of these, it is not my intention to speak, save in one in- stance, where St. Hilaire himself evinced a wish that his sentiments, should not be a matter of secrecy. " I desire," said he, in a firm tone of voice, as he turned round and addressed the soldiers on either side of him ; " 1 desire that my son, now at the Polytechnique, should serve the Fmperor better than, and as faithfully as his father has done ; if his majesty will graciously per- mit him to do so, in the grenadier battalion, which I have long com- manded ; it will be the greatest favour I can ask of him " A low murmur of grief, no longer repressible, ran through the little group around the litter. " The grenadiers of the sixth," continued he, proudly, while for an instant his pale features flushed up, "will not love him the less for the name he bears. Come, come, men — do not OUH MESS. give way, thus ; what will my kind young friend here say of us, when he joins the hussar-brigade. This is not their ordinary mood, believe me," said he, addressing me; "the Russian guard would give a very different account of them — they are stouter fellows at the *pas de charge,' than around the litter of a wounded comrade." While he was yel speaking, Louis returned, followed by two officers, one of, whom, notwithstanding his efforts at concealment, I recognised to be Marshal Murat. " We must remove him, if it be possible," said the surgeon, in a whisper ; " and yet the slightest motion is to be dreaded." '• May I speak to him?" said Murat, in a low voice. " Yes, that you may," replied Louis, who now pushed his way for- ward and approached the litter. •• Ah, so soon !" said the wounded man, looking up ; "a man of your word, Louis — and how is Lapp ? nothing in this fashion, I hope," added he, pointing to his fractured limb with a sickly smile. " No, no," replied the surgeon ; " but here is Marshal Murat come to inquire after you, from the Emperor." A flush of pride lit up St. Ililaire's features as he heard this; and he asked eagerly — "Where, where?" " We must remove you, St. Ililaire," said Murat, endeavouring to speak calmly, when it was evident his feelings were highly excited; '* Louis says you must not remain here." '• As you like, Marshal ; What says his majesty ? is the affair as de- ceive as he looked for ?" " Far more so : the allied army is destroyed — the campaign is ended." " Come, then, this is not so bad as I deemed it," rejoined St. Ililaire, with a tone of almost gaiety; "I can afford to be invalided if the Emperor has no further occasion for me." While these few words were interchanging, Louis had applied a tourniquet around the wounded limb, and having given the soldiers di- rections how they were to step, so as not to disturb or displace tlie shattered bones, he took his place beside the litter and said — " We are ready now, General." They lifted the litter as he spoke, and moved slowly forward. Murat pressed the hand St. Ililaire extended to him, without a word ; and then, turning his head away, suffered the party to pass on. Before we reached Reygern, the wounded general had fallen into a y sleep, from which he did not awake, as they laid him on the betl in the hospital. •■ (iood night, sir, or, rather, good morning," said Louis to me, as I turned to leave the spot; "we may chance to have better news for you than we anticipated, when you visit us here again." And so we parted. :j OF TOM BURKE, VOLUME I. . .y.vd by J. s. Fold,, Sojr, m-A Tattio", 5, Bachclur's-walk. (/' L 005 2.77 942 8 HliniHnliJnntl NREGI0NA L LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 372 400 i