“The King was at that time in the very flower of his age, and yet he appeared no longer young.  The cares of royalty, the murder of the Guises, had planted many a deep and lasting furrow on his brow, which time would have otherwise withheld for many years.  His pallid cheek and sunken eye told of a mind but ill at ease.  No art, no charm could restore the bloom and freshness which remorse for the past and fear for the future had long ago dispelled, never to return.  And yet, with that sweet self-deception which all are so disposed to practise, he sought to banish reflection and beguile alarm in the pursuit of all kinds of frivolous amusements unworthy of his rank or station, and fancied he had succeeded in chasing care if for a moment he ceased to think.

“His costume even now was foppish and recherche.  Much time had evidently been spent in adjusting the drooping leathers of his jewelled toque, and no pains had been spared in properly disposing the plaits of his fraise and ruffles, or in arranging the folds of his broidered mantle.  The snow-white slippers, with the sky-blue roses, the silken hose and braided doublet, seemed better fitted for the parade of the courtly saloon than the privacy of the closet.  The hand he extended to the Count was like that of a youthful beauty, rather than of one who had once wielded sword with the bravest.  Every finger was adorned with a costly jewel, which flashed and sparkled in the light as he waved his hand in token of welcome, and, pointing to a chair, bade his visiter be seated.”

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *

THE LAW OF ARREST. A TALE FROM FACTS.

Once upon a time there lived at Hamburgh a certain merchant of the name of Meyer—­he was a good little man; charitable to the poor, hospitable to his friends, and so rich that he was extremely respected, in spite of his good nature.  Among that part of his property which was vested in other people’s hands, and called debts, was the sum of five hundred pounds owed to him by the Captain of an English vessel.  This debt had been so long contracted that the worthy Meyer began to wish for a new investment of his capital.  He accordingly resolved to take a trip to Portsmouth, in which town Captain Jones was then residing, and take that liberty which in my opinion should in a free country never be permitted, viz. the liberty of applying for his money.

Our worthy merchant one bright morning found himself at Portsmouth; he was a stranger to that town, but not unacquainted altogether with the English language.  He lost no time in calling on Captain Jones.

“And vat?” said he to a man whom he asked to show him to the Captain’s house, “vat is dat fine veshell yondare?”

“She be the Royal Sally,” replied the man, “bound for Calcutta—­sails to-morrow; but here’s Captain Jones’s house, Sir, and he’ll tell you all about it.”