or seven hundred, were dashing down the various streets, with a noise like thunder, diversified only by the clash of arms, the shrieks of the wounded, and the fierce cries of the populace.  It was indeed terrible—­the butchery of lives has indeed been awful; in these sanguinary conflicts between desperate men, pent up in narrow streets, innocent lives have also been taken, for it was next to impossible to distinguish between those who took an active part in the affray, and those who were merely paralysed spectators.  In their own defence the gendarmes were compelled to fire, and their artillery did fearful havoc among the people.

* * * * *

Crossing the Quai de la Tournelle, at the commencement of the first day, I was startled by being addressed by name, and turning round, beheld, to my utter astonishment, Cecil Grahame at my elbow; he was in the uniform of a gendarme, in which corps, he told me, with some glee, his brother-in-law, Lord Alphingham, who was high in favour with the French court, had obtained him a commission; he spoke lightly, and with that same recklessness of spirit and want of principle which unfortunately has ever characterised him, declaring he was far better off than he had ever been in England, which country he hoped never to see again, as he utterly abhorred the very sight of it.  The French people were rather more agreeable to live with; he could enjoy his pleasures without any confounded restraint.  I suppose he saw how little I sympathised in his excited spirits, for, with a hoarse laugh and an oath of levity, he swore that I had not a bit more spirit in me than when I was a craven-hearted lad, always cringing before the frown of a saintly father, and therefore no fit companion for a jolly fellow like himself.  ’Have you followed Herbert’s example, and are you, too, a godly-minded parson? then, good day, and good riddance to you, my lad,’ was the conclusion of his boisterous speech, and setting spurs to his horse, he would have galloped off, when I detained him, to ask why he had not informed his family of his present place of abode and situation.  My blood had boiled as he spoke, that such rude and scurrilous lips should thus scornfully have spoken my sainted brother’s name; passion rose fierce within me, but I thought of him whose name he spoke, and was calm.  He swore that he had had quite enough of his father’s severity, that he never meant to see his face again.  He was now, thank heaven, his own master, and would take care to remain so; that he had been a fool to address me, as he might be sure I should tell of his doings, and bring the old fellow after him.  Disgusted beyond measure, yet I could not forbear asking him if he had heard of his mother’s death.  Without the least change of countenance or of voice, he replied—­

“’Heard of it, man, aye, and forgotten it by this; why it is some centuries ago.  It would have been a good thing for me had she died years before she did.’