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LITERATURE.

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LITERATURE. THE CHKERFVL VISITOR-Part IV, Mitchell, Red Lion Court, Fleet-street—is the cheapest and one of the best description of serials we receive. If we mav he allowed to compare it with the Family Herald description of literature, we must say that is far better in every point of view. There is also pub- lished with it a cheap series of Tales the one to accompany Part IV being Elizabeth, or the exiles of Siberia." THB HaMs COMPANION, Parts XIll and XIV— John Bennett, 69, Fleet-street, Loadon—A collectiou of Biography. Poetry, Tales, Romance, Scottish Song, &c., is in every way deserving the support of the public, the matter being very well got up, and prettily illustrated, all at a moderate price. TttAVBLLERS* LIBRART-" Swift and Richardson Longman and Co. No. 36 of the Traveller's Library" contains most interesting articles upon the works of Swift and Richardson, by Lord Jeffrey. This series continues, what at starting the projectors promised, really good literature at a moderate cost. DIOOKNKS—No. I Pipers, Brothers, 23, Pater- noster Row, London. A new publication of the genus Punch. There is no mistake as to the talent displayed both in the character of its writings and the execution of its illustrations; in fact, its illustra- trations are unparallelled in any work of the sort. TSB POST MAOAZINB ALMANACK for 1853, is all that we have said of it on former occasions, being a really nsefnl tablet of events, past and to come. THB PROFESSIONAL Lirs ASSURANCB COMPANIES' ALMANACK, 1853. A really useful Diary and Alma- nack, to which, of course, is appended recommenda- tions of the Society from which it emanates. A Reply of the Professional Life Assurance Com- pany to the Attacks of its assailants" is all that could be wished or looked for by its most ardent supporters ATHENAEUM INSTITUTE for Authors, Men of Science. &c., &c., 30, Sackville-street, London. We have just received a prospectas of this Company, which is now incorporated, and from all we can learn, it is calculated to fill a void of long standing amongst the literati of the day. To Mr F. G. Tomlyn, the manager, we think, great credit is due for his unre- mitting exertions in bringing to a neucleos this insti- tution. THB DUBLIN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE, January, 1M3, contains, among others of an equally interesting nature, the following story related by a recluse at Toars to a young Englishman, will be found THB GOLDEN GUILLOTINE. On the 20th day of October, in the year 1793, 1 was con- ducted a prisoner to the Palace of the Luxembourg. They had accused me of the crimes of being rich, noble, and a royalist. My estates having been forfeited, I had been arrested in the provinces, and was now brought up, along with several prisoners of inferior rank, to Paris. As the gate of the Luxembourg closed after me, I resigned all hope of liberation, except by one exit—the scaffold; and secretly determined to seek, it I could, the most solitary- recesses of the prison, there to remain shut up with my own thoughts until my time should arrive for removal to the Conciergerie, and execution. I trusted to what ready money I had the command of for the means of obtaining this indulgence—for the time had not come when the aystem af rapiciage had been organised, under which every one of the better class was robbed on entering the prison-gate. The first person I saw, amidst the crowd who thronged round the wicket, anxious to catch a glimpse of their fellow- sufferers, was Pierre Levasseur, a travelling companion of mine iu tormer years, and afterwards an occasional asso- ciate, until something incompatible in our positions in society (for he had not the cent annees), and then the stormy scenes of the Revolution, had parted us, and I had lost tight of him. He embraced me with the utmost demon- strations of affection, and taking me by the hand, led me a little apart, and told me that having been some time an inmate of the prison, he could be of great service in intro- ducing me to its custom as well as to its inhabitants, and preventing me making mistakes which might compromise me. "But," said I, I have determined to make no ac- qnanunces here. I have friends enough for the rest of my life, I'm sure. If I want to make a last confidence, you are here, my dear Levasseur, and will shrive me." "Unfsss," replied he, with a laugh, "/have first to make my confession to you, which, in the order of our arrest, is the most likely thing." And how came you here P" I inquired, suddenly re. collecting that he had never appeared to me a very warm royalist, but, on the contrary, avowed himself, when I parted from him two years before, rather inclined to the popular side. Oh, we must not forestall our revelations. Weshootd be at the mercy of each other, you know, if we became con. fidants here until compelled by necessity. Enough tor me to say, in a whisper, that Robespierre fancied my linen was finer than his, and as we employed the same blanchis- tense, he thought, I presume, that the best way of reducing my fabric to the texture of his own, was to transfer my lingerie to the iavtnse of the Luxembourg." "The same extravagant droit as ever," I exclaimed, recognising the esprit railltur I had so often observed and rebuked. Take care that your nonsense does not get you into a scrape. I am told that there are eyes and ears busy hereabouts——" Hush I know it; but I know, too, that the best way of disarming suspicion is to be trank, careless, and jovial. Do you think, now," continned he, lowering his voice to a distinct whisper, at the same time putting his mouth so close to my ear, that he had to lift up my hair tor the pur- pose- yea think that you could form any guess, amongst the persona about us, as to that character we are all so much in dread of-the agent of the police 9 I dont know," replied I, venturing a stealthy look round me, which I instantly withdrew, adding—" Is it safe to scrutinise people ? You confirm my suspicions as to oar being watched." Scarcely safe, I believe," he replied but they have a few marks, nevertheless. For instance, when you see a man sitting gloomily apart, avoiding mach converse with the pri- soners, and noticing neither their motions nor the con- versation of the groups which pass him by, you may be pretty sure that that man is a spy of Fouquier's. Upon such a fallow as me, now, they have an uncommonly sharp eye bat I laugh at them. and cbey can make nothing of me. What- ever avidence exists against me outside, they shall add no- thing to it here, I promise you. Y oo must act as I do, my dear friend. Come into society (for we have our society here); address every one, get all you can out of them make your own observations in silence, and if you want to pass remarks, come to me. Ten to one, my superior knowledge of character, gained here at the foot of the scaffold, which strips off all masks, wiii stand yon in stead. And now, remember, there is a select re-onion this very evening in the Salle des Pleurs, as we have named ic. A few ot the better order, as it used to be called—you know what that means—meets there, so I will direct (request, I beg his pardon) my peculiar little turnkey to summon yon to tint apartment at tne usual hoar, and there you will meet me, and some others of the nutting aristocracy of France! I was amased at the levity of Levasseur under such cir- cumstances still, I was young myself, naturally high- spirited, and was greatly re-assured by meeting an old ac- quantanee where I had to little expected it; so, after a mo- meat's hesitation, I abandoned my original design, and sur- rendered myself to my friend's invitation. As soon as we had separated, however, my mind relapsed into despondency. The execution of Marie Antoinette had taken place only a few days before. When 1 first heard of it, my soul had boiled over with vengeance, but by this time its effect was only to aggravate and deepen my dejection. Besides, the terrible reality of my situation forced itsellt upon me through every chink of my senses. It was now that I felt, for the first time, the iron of captivity enter into my soul. Pallid and emaciated faces peered spectrally into mine, as if they envid me the flush of health I had borne in among them from the world without, and could not communicate. A con- fused wrangling consequent on overcrowded accommodation incessantly met my ears a contention in which every loftier feeling proper te man as a member of society, gives way to the one grovelling instinct of self, degrading his high huma- nity down to the level of the brutes. The forced inter- mixture of ranks and grades, previously dissociated by a natural arrangement assented to on both sides, displayed its effects in fierce and humiliating collisions, in which the great social drama of the Revolution was enacted on a small and mean scale under my eyes. I might easily enter into detail. Here and there a group lay apart, unconscious, apparently, of the terrible tumult around. The messenger of death had come to these—had taken one. or two, or mora away to the Conciergerie, never to be heard of more. I saw one man, who seemed to be the survivor of a family for even the wretches expecting their own fate pitied him. He sat still, in a ray of sunshine, a thing which the full blaze of day was powerless to resuscitate.—But why torture you with all this ? It is past—and here am I. Evening came, and, instead of the turnkey, appeared Levasseur himself. He suspected I might make excuses, or be unable to muster my spirits, and determined, he said, to use his own influence. I .saw it was useless to resist, so I rose from my seat, leaned on his arm, and passed along the corridor to the Salle des Pleurs. I entered and found myself in an ill-lighted but spacious ball, furnished with some rude chairs, tables and benches, in which were already assembled probably more than one hun- dred persons. It was at once perceptible that here, though a prisoner, I was in eievated society. The eye of one accus- tomed to mix with the world detects, almost at a glance, and under any disguise, the grade of the company it snrveys. Besides, mine was not wanting in quickness, and at that time, though uninstructed as yet, possessed in full vigour those natural powers it learned afterwards to turn to better account. I saw that, in spite of those dim lamps, and iron bars, and rude benches, I stood amongst the nobility of France, and, like a true aristocrat, my heart and courage instantly bounded within me. I felt that amidst the con- vulsion of society it wa« still permitted me to associate with the ancient blood of an ancient kingdom, and I scarcely cared even though I were to suffer the penalty of having itscurrent mowing through my veins, so I were permuted to the last to enjoy the exquisite privileges its participation afforded me. But, M. Lenoir, interrupted I, you had not previously informed me of your being noble { 44 Nor had I intended to do so," replied he, after a mo. ment's pause, drawing a long breath, as the strain was taken eehts memory; "yen have made an unconscious discovery amidst my revelations. Few older families existed even then none exi»t now within this kingdom—than the Vi- eumtfs de Martigny, of which I was theselerepresentative." De MartignyJ cried L Why they belonged to this very province J P this spot, almost," he replied. "Their estates were a__ nde* two sid^a by the walls of Tours, xnd extended Th»#9 to l°rdsbip of Montbagon, But what of that ? y gone, and he wfco might have tranamitted them, k °°' Wl" 8° 5 and with him, the last claimant who could 'hem, I stand here, the sole survivor of 111 y rac. 9 1 looked with a degree of reverence upon this solitary re- presentative 0f a Ujng |jne 0f nobles, many anecdotes relatina to whom had heard during my rrsidence at Tours, and ^iKtrict" of as the Grands Seigu&ws ot thi Let me 4 question," gnid J, "arising out ot your eiacloGnres. How comes it that you live alone, under an assumed and yet remain iere, where you are Jikely to btemoat re«*nj8ed ? 3 u y w wilj understand the reason before I have done. My mmeJut* «, living aa i 4o, and in renouncing my proper title, ia t0 eiude the curiosity aud the kindness o! those who have nothing to discover which I woold not keep cooceaiea. and can offer no consolation that could repair the .a. tf I entered the Hall ofTeara (as with a ghastly conceit they | named their place of meeting), and was recognised by more than one of the personages assembled there. Woe was im- printed on the visapes of many of these; a reckless hilarity lighted up the countenances of a few of the younger men, but most of them retained their ordinary cheerfulness and vivneity unimpaired and unexaggerated and all, without exception, appeared to preserve the lofty and chivalrous de. meanour which might be deemed hereditary in their families, and had, at all events, become a second nature. For me to have appeared otherwise than myself in such a society, would have been derogatory to my pretensions—so in a few moments I fell iu with the spirit of the assemblage, and, shutting my eyes to the gloomy accessories, strove to imagine myself once more in one of the salons of the Foubourg St. Germain. What struck me as most singular, though in keeping with the name of this hall, was, that many of the ladies present wore as ornaments, either on their heads, ronnd their necks, or on their bosoms, pieces of jewellery significant in their forms of the horrors thatsurroundedand awaited them. One exhibited a chain and padlock bracelet, another a dagger through her hair, and a third a skull and cross-bones as a brooch. A shudder ran through me as I observed this grim pleasantry associated with death and though I learned at last to look upon these emblems with indifference-nay, with something less than indifference, as you shall hear—yet it took some time to reconcile me to the fashion. Levasseur stuck close to my elbow, and watched the effect of what I witnessed, as it depicted itself upon my counten- ance. He gave me credit more than once for my steadiness of nerve under circumstances so trying and so novel, and at the same time satisfied my curiosity every now and then, by recounting anecdotes and incidents relating to the more re- markable of the personages who approached and receded from as. "There; do you see that reserved, downcast-looking body, with the tonsure of a monk only half overgrown by the locks of a sans-culotte 9 He seems to think that society is a mis- take, now that it is likely to lose him so soon. That i& the ci devant Abbe Fauchet, who will probably remove his gra- vity from hence to the Conciergerie in a day or two. He figures, you know, among the Girondin worthies, who seem so indignant that their turn should come at last for the guil- lotine." What! a Girondin ? exclaimed I; are they actually in the room P" To be sure. The noblesse admits them on the score of their youth and appoaching dissolution. See, here we have another of them, for they are gregarious. He is hobbling up on his crutches to cheer up Fauchet. That is Sillery; a jolly dog to the last." Where is Vergniard ?" I whispered, unable to repress the interest I felt in the theme of all tongues. We must go further up the room to reach him," replied Levasseur. He and Ducos have contrived to excite pretty nearly as violent ifureut amongst the grandet dames as they formerly did chex let dames de la Juille; and can never manage to get even in prison a moment's peace, or what they would call peace; that is, solitude." (To be continued.)

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