were worsted; two or three of them being killed, and the others—­save and except the cautious Jemmy, who had only directed the movement from without—­being fast in the clutches of the constables. Jemmy, flinging away his crape and his crowbar, ran home to his house—­he was then living somewhere in Petty France—­went to bed, and the next morning appeared as snug and as respectable as ever to his neighbours.  Vehement was his disgust at the knaves killed and caught in the attack on “The Spaniards;” and though there were not wanting bold speakers, who averred that Twitcher was at the bottom of the burglary, nevertheless, his grave look, and the character he had contrived to piece together for honest dealing, secured him from conviction.

Jemmy Twitcher was what the world calls a warm fellow.  He had gold in his chest, silver tankards on his board, pictures on his walls; and more, he had a fine family of promising Twitchers.  One night, greatly to his horror at the iniquity of man, miscreants surrounded his dwelling and fired bullets at his children.  The villains were apprehended; and the hair of Jemmy—­who had evidently forgotten all about the affair at “The Spaniards”—­stood on end, as the conspiracy of the villains was revealed, as it was shown how, in anticipation of a wicked success, they had shared among them, not only his gold and his tankards, but the money and plate of all his honest neighbours. Jemmy, still forgetful of “The Spaniards” cried aloud for justice and the gibbet!

Have we not here the late revolution in Spain—­the QUENISSET conspiracy—­and in the prime mover of the first, and the intended victim of the second rascality, KING LOUIS-PHILIPPE, the JEMMY TWITCHER OF THE FRENCH?

The commission recently appointed in France for the examination of the Communists and Equalised Operatives, taken in connexion with the recent bloodshed under French royal authority, is another of the ten thousand illustrations of the peculiar morality of crowned heads.  Here is a sawyer, a cabinet-maker, a cobbler, and such sort, all food for the guillotine for attempting to do no more than has been most treacherously perpetrated by the present King of the French and the ex-Queen of Spain.  How is it that LOUIS-PHILIPPE feels no touch of sympathy for that pusillanimous scoundrel—­Just?  He is naturally his veritable double; but then Just is only a carpenter, LOUIS-PHILIPPE is King of the French!

The reader has only to read Madrid for Paris—­has only to consider the sawyer Quenisset (the poor tool, trapped by Just), the murdered Don Leon, or any other of the gallant foolish victims of the French monarchy in the late atrocity in Spain, to see the moral identity of the scoundrel carpenter and the rascal king.  We quote from the report:—­

Quenisset (alias DON LEON) examined.—­“Just said to me, pointing to the body of officers, ’You must fire into the midst of those;’ I then drew the pistol from under my shirt, and discharged it with my left hand in the direction I was desired.”

O’DONNELL, LEON, ORA, BORIA, FULGOSIO, drew their pistols at the order of LOUIS-PHILIPPE and CHRISTINA, and merely fired in the direction they were desired!