It is a fearful thing to see men weep.

We are seldom sadder without being also wiser men.

What is more appalling than to find the signs of gaiety accompanying the reality of anguish.

Consolation.—­If we go at noon day to the bottom of a deep pit,[8] we shall be able to see the stars which on the level ground are invisible.  Even so, from the depths of grief—­worn, wretched, seared, and dying—­the blessed apparitions and tokens of heaven make themselves visible to our eyes.

    [8] The remark is in Aristotle.  Buffon quotes it in, I think, the
        first volume of his great work.

Progress of Crime.—­Mankind are not instantly corrupted.  Villany is always progressive.  We decline from right—­not suddenly, but step after step.—­Aram’s Defence.

* * * * *

SKETCHES FROM THE TOUR OF A GERMAN PRINCE, VOL.  III.

Mrs. Fitzherbert.

“A very worthy and amiable woman, formerly, they say, married to the King, but at present wholly without influence in that quarter, but no less beloved and respected, d’un excellent ton et sans pretension.”

Her Majesty.

“The Duchess of Clarence honoured the feast with her presence; and all pressed forward to see her, for she is one of those rare princesses whose personal qualities obtain for them much more respect than their rank, and whose unceasing benevolence and highly amiable character, have obtained for her a popularity in England, of which we Germans may well be proud—­the more so, since in all probability she is destined to be one day the Queen of that country.”

The King.

“I had the honour of dining with the Duke of Clarence, where I also met the Princess Augusta, the Duchess of Kent and her daughter, and the Duchess of Gloucester.  The Duke makes a most friendly host, and is kind enough to retain a recollection of the different times and places where he has before seen me.  He has much of the English national character, in the best sense of the word, and also the English love of domestic arrangement.  The daughters of the Duke are d’un beau sang, all extraordinarily handsome, though in different styles of beauty.  Among the sons Colonel Fitzclarence is, in many respects, the most distinguished.  Rarely, indeed, do we meet with a young officer of such various accomplishments.”

The Duchess Of St. A——.

“According to the earliest recollections or her Grace, she found herself a forsaken, starving, frozen child, in an outshed of an English village.  She was taken thence by a gipsy-crew, whom she afterwards left for a company of strolling players.  In this profession, she obtained some reputation by a pleasing exterior, a constant flow of spirits, and a certain originality—­till by degrees she gained several friends, who magnanimously provided for her