ence of the brilliant society to which | ter of the age. The religious awe of his eloquent theories proved so deadly the Middle Ages, the need of defence, a foe. In this salon Marshal Saxe, the anarchy of feudalism, are preserved slumbering heavily on the prie-dieu, in the crypt of St. Saturnin, and the wins the heart of Maria Leczinska by shape of the Cour Ovale. The graceful the exemplary length of his prayers paganism of Francis I., twining round and confession; in that, a gay crowd Gothic forms, which have not wholly meets at the table where Madame de lost their meaning or their strength, Pompadour dispenses her wit, her wine, marks the transition from the feudal to and her smiles, and among them is the modern world, from the ages of Voltaire, clad in the blue livery of the faith to the classicism of the Renaisreigning favorite. Here is the room in sance, and, by its exaggeration, often which Madame de Maintenon shivered, betrays the sudden passage from simple and knitted, and read her books of de- ignorance to excessive refinement. In votion, and here is the Council Chamber the reign of Henry IV., the harmony where her answer to the "Qu'en pense between painting, sculpture, and archivotre Solidité ?" of Louis XIV. plunged tecture, which reached their perfection Europe into twelve years of war. At under Henry II., has lost its freshness; the end of this long gallery, the wretched its spontaneity, its simplicity, its ease. Monaldeschi implores for mercy, grovel- The object of artists is novelty; the ling at the feet of the pitiless Christine decorations have lost their lightness, of Sweden. Through this courtyard, the details are vicious, the general imborne by twenty liveried bearers, moves pression is labored, the instinctive the huge red litter of Cardinal Riche- perfection of taste is exchanged for lieu. Here is the garden, in which imitation. Art, like every other departHenry IV. walks with his hand on the ment of national life, has lost its spirit shoulder of Biron; here is the gallery, in religious and civil discord. In the with its equestrian statue of the king reign of Louis XIII., art has travelled where the marshal lost by a clumsy yet further from its classic inspiration. answer his best hope of pardon; here Still more marked is the decadence the doorway at which he was arrested, under the Grand Monarque. Size, prohere the pavilion to which he was hur- fusion, pomp, emphasis, display, charried, and which he only left for the acterize the gilding and the stucco, in Bastille and the block. Through this which the achievements are celebrated chamber rings the voice of Coligny as of an all-powerful monarch, who makes he demands toleration for the Protes- the laws of harmony bow to his destants. Here the stout, muddy-complex-potic will, and whose best artistic repioned Catherine de Medicis walks at resentative is Boule. Destruction is nightfall, asking of the stars the time when vengeance and power shall be hers. Here is the doorway through which escapes the Duchesse d'Etampes, fleeing from the revenge of her rival, Diane de Poitiers. Here is the chapel in which the fur-cloaked courtiers of St. Louis find themselves unwillingly pledged to leave France and join in the Crusades. one keynote of the changes made by Louis XV.; where his hand is the hand of the builder or the decorator, the work is wanting in strength, and is scarcely more conspicuous for its grace and elegance than for its affectation, its whimsical caprice, its unprincipled regularity. With the Empire stricter canons of taste and beauty are restored, the juster principles of classic art are revived, but at the sacrifice of the traditions of the past, and with the loss of its national inspiration. And, lastly, And on all these scenes the architecture of the palace is an eloquent commentary. It is like the music which accompanies and explains the words. the revival of a love of antiquity, the Each change in style and taste illustrates the close connection between the art and the mental or the moral charac reaction against the violence of revolution, the return of older habits of thought, are displayed in the careful restorations of the Gothic revival | terminated in a comprehensive crash, which was inaugurated at the Restora- after which Miss Whimper was surtion, and was inspired by the Romantic prised to find herself still alive. She movement of the nineteenth century. From The Argosy. AN ADOPTED CHILD. I. lay for some time huddled up in a corner, vaguely expecting a renewal of the fearful leaps and jumps that had just subsided. All being still, it gradually occurred to her that she had better get up and see whether her parcels had sustained any injury. One especially, FROM time immemorial Blankton had that contained a new tea-service, began been a quiet little village, with nothing to give her grave anxiety. This teato distinguish it in any way from hun- service was the principal purchase she dreds of similar villages scattered had made during a rare visit to some throughout the length and breadth of friends, and it would have been too England. A rustic cricket match was vexing to find, after all, that some of an event in the annals of the parish. the pretty blue and gold cups were As a rule, the villagers found that the chipped, or even broken. But Miss annual school treat and harvest home Whimper had some difficulty in ascer satisfied all their cravings for amuse-taining the fate of her china, for it ment. And then, all in a moment, seemed that the carriage had in some Blankton became famous. mysterious way altered its shape while When the new line of railway, that she was lying on the floor. The light was to carry civilization into the most now seemed to come from overhead, remote regions, had been planned, it had accompanied from time to time by a skirted contemptuously outside the vil- plentiful shower of broken glass. lage, not considering it even worthy of vain she looked for the windows, and it a wayside station. Yet after all it was was many minutes before she ascerthrough the instrumentality of the rail-tained that she was lying on one of way that Blankton achieved celebrity. them, and staring up at the other. That summer afternoon was long remembered in the neighborhood, when what was locally known as the three o'clock express, instead of pressing on as usual to its far-off destination in the metropolis, suddenly forsook the line, and, plunging down the steep embankment, came to a standstill in a large field of standing oats. This deviation from the ordinary routine at once brought death and desolation to at least a dozen homes. In What "There must have been some sort of accident," she muttered, mechanically rearranging her bonnet-strings. a mercy there is no more damage done! And how very fortunate I was travelling alone. Fancy rolling under the seat at my age! Why I could never have looked any one in the face again if I had been seen." When the poor lady had laboriously freed herself from the heap of cushions and packages that had accumulated Amidst the hideous sights and sounds around her, she deliberately took out inseparable from a railway accident, her handkerchief, tied it to the handle one passenger remained comparatively of her umbrella, aud standing on tip-toe calm. Miss Whimper was in the act of contrived to wave the little white pencollecting her numerous parcels pre- non through the broken window above. paratory to getting out at the next sta- Not that she was impatient. Other tion, when a series of irresistible jerks people she knew might have been indashed her on the floor of the carriage, convenienced by the strange vagaries where she lay partially stunned while of the engine. Probably the guard was the engine ploughed such a furrow into at present busy explaining to the other the yielding earth, that many a harvest passengers what had happened, and was gathered in before the ominous helping them to collect their loose pardent was altogether effaced. The jerks cels. Very possibly some of the other "Find my way indeed!” replied Miss Whimper, opening her eyes with a start. "Well, considering my father was rector of Blankton for forty-three years, and that I was born and bred here, I should think I can find my way ! That is my house, with the roses growing up the verandah, close to the church. When my dear father died, and I had to leave the rectory, I said I could never live anywhere but "Excuse me," interrupted the stranger, "if you are so near home, I advise you to walk quietly on. Your parcels? Oh yes, they are all right. Don't think of coming back. I must see if I can be of any more use. Oh no; you could do nothing, and it really isn't a place for ladies." he turned back towards the black, smoking mass that lay like an ugly blot on the waving yellow surface of the oats. With these words ladies had been frightened at first, as she had been, until it turned out that after all there was very little harm done. Miss Whimper had no fear of being neglected. Railway officials are proverbially attentive, and no doubt in response to her signal, one would soon come to her assistance. In point of fact about a quarter of an hour elapsed before a man's head appeared at the aperture above. On finding that the pale and begrimed stranger was not in any way connected with the train, Miss Whimper rather hesitated about accepting his proffered help, for she felt that an elderly lady of short stature must unavoidably present a somewhat ridiculous appearance climbing up a hat-rack, which, however, seemed the only visible mode of exit. She therefore, after an elaborate apology for the trouble she was giving, begged that the guard might be sent for without delay. The pale-faced man (remembering with a Miss Whimper continued her walk shudder how he had last seen the guard) along the well-known path leading to replied that it was at present absolutely the village. She felt rather shaken impossible to comply with her request, and fatigued by her recent experiences. and that she must accept him as a sub-“At my age one cannot tumble about stitute. After a short discussion Miss with impunity," she thought; and then Whimper at last allowed him to hoist reflected sadly on her lack of presence her bodily through the window. Her of mind in not having particularly resurprise was excessive on first realizing quested her late companion to rescue her surroundings. the new tea service. Presently an old "Why, we are out in farmer Jack-woman hurried by, carrying a little girl son's ten-acre piece, I declare!" she of about two years old in her arms. exclaimed in helpless astonishment. From the child's appearance it was ob"Now, I was saying to myself that the vious that she had just been saved from oats were fit to cut as I looked out of the wreckage of the train. the window, and here we are treading them down! What a pity it seems! I never knew I fancied - what has happened?" "Never mind," interrupted the palefaced man. "Now just take my arm and shut your eyes." Luckily the instinct of obedience was strong in Miss Whimper. She clung to the stranger's arm and walked forward blindfold, totally unconscious that she was passing sights that haunted many of the spectators to their dying day. Now I dare say you can find your way to the village," said the stranger, pausing as he reached a foot-path at the end of the field, "What a pretty little thing! Where are you taking her?" inquired Miss Whimper. "Who is in charge of her? Surely her mother or her nurse must be here !" "Ay, they are here, like enough!" returned the woman. And in a few realistic words, she told Miss Whimper more about the accident than she even suspected before. "Take the child to my house at once!" cried the old lady, trembling with horror as she dimly realized what she had just escaped. "The workhouse indeed! Never! whilst I have a home to offer the poor innocent ! " So the child's fate was decided, and Some green mounds in the churchyard, Rose Cottage became her home. The attraction in the shape of a gigantic next few days constituted an epoch fire in a north-country town, drew off of altogether unwonted excitement in all the reporters simultaneously, and Blankton. The village was overrun Blankton's brief day of fame was over. with reporters sent down by all the leading papers. They interviewed the clergyman, the schoolmaster, and the parish clerk. Any person who had witnessed the accident, even from a distance, was temporarily converted developed from an engaging child into into a hero. It slowly dawned on Miss Whimper, as she saw sketches of her native village in all the illustrated papers, that she had taken part in the most fatally famous railway accident of the year. "And to think that I was fidgetting all the time about those bits of china!" as she remarked to her friends, when they came to congratulate her on her wonderful escape. And then the conversation invariably drifted off to the forlorn little girl who ever since that dreadful day had been the petted idol of Miss Whimper's quiet household. So attached did the old lady become to her little charge that it was with a distinct sense of relief that she ascertained that all efforts to trace the child's parentage had failed. The only body that was not identified at the inquest was that of a homely looking, middle-aged woman, whom a passenger remembered to have seen carrying the child at the last station. The extreme plainness of her clothes, compared with those of the little girl, caused it to be generally assumed that she was a nurse travelling with her mistress's child. The name Beatrice, beautifully embroidered on the child's linen, was found to be no clue to her parentage. So all the advertisements and police researches having failed, the poor woman was quietly buried under the elm-trees in Blankton churchyard, and little Beatrice was practically adopted by Miss Whimper. a very pretty girl. She also enjoyed the inestimable advantage of being the only person in Blankton with any approach to a history. As a matter of course she was the idol of Miss Whimper's declining years, and the old lady's modest income, which had hitherto been chiefly devoted to charitable purposes, was now freely lavished on Beatrice's education and pleasures. From sheer force of habit, the girl accepted it all without any special feeling of gratitude. Indeed it seemed quite natural that she should have the best of everything, being young, and consequently able to enjoy it. That Miss Whimper's brown stuff gown should be made by the village dressmaker, whilst Beatrice's costumes emanated from the most expensive establishment in the county town, seemed an altogether befitting arrangement, seeing that at twenty, clothes make such a difference to one's appearance, whilst a wrinkled little old lady, with grey curls on either side of her face, must necessarily be outside the pale of all such considerations. Human nature being what it is, it will not surprise any one to learn that Beatrice had her detractors; unpleasant-people who talked about beggars on horseback, and dared to think that it would have been wiser to bring the girl up to earn her livelihood as a governess. But even those neighbors who held these views most strongly seldom dared to air them in the presence of Miss Whimper. From the first that BLANKTON Soon subsided again into good lady firmly maintained, that if its normal condition of peaceful obscu- ever the lost child's parentage came to rity. The sudden interest that the civil- be known, it would be found that she ized world manifested in its doings, as belonged to people moving in the highsuddenly died out again at the end of est ranks of society. Miss Whimper one short week. A powerful counter-had repeated this formula so long, that II. she came to regard, what was after all only a supposition, completely in the light of a revealed truth. She consequently brought up her charge in the belief that she was of superior clay to her immediate surroundings, aud Beatrice took very readily to the notion. an original mode of occupying yourself. Let me see how many days this week have you worried the rabbits ?" "Well, I have been after them several times lately," he admitted. "But really I should like to come with you and carry your basket. There's nothing I should like better.” ex "Don't talk SO absurdly! claimed Beatrice, jerking away the basket so suddenly that the beef-tea splashed all over the custard-pudding. "Now, your strong point being truthfulness, you had better confess at once that you are longing to get over that gate, and carry out the rest of your humane programme. I am hurrying to see a dying woman, so I am afraid I can't waste any more time talking at present.” One bright day in the early autumn, this young lady might have been seen walking down the village street, with an unusually gloomy expression on her fair face. The little basket of dainties in her hand betrayed that she was going to visit a sick person. But she did not like her errand, and she did not trouble to dissimulate her repugnance. She was almost angry with old Nancy for insisting upon seeing her, when the villagers must all have known perfectly well how much she objected to taking part in deathbed scenes. If it had not This time the young man took his been for Miss Whimper's gentle exer- dismissal. Leaving her without a tion of authority she would probably word, he got over the gate, and soon have declined the visit altogether. As disappeared behind the leafy hedgeit was, she had postponed it upon one pretext and another until the afternoon, although the old woman had summoned her many hours before. rows. Beatrice continued her walk with a slightly heightened color and a perceptibly increased air of annoyance. It would hardly have occurred to a "It's all very well for auntie," she spectator that the two who had just thought, as she strolled moodily along. parted so abruptly were engaged to be “Of course her father was the clergy-married. man here, and she knows what to do for sick people, and doesn't mind stuffy rooms. Oh, bother!" The last exclamation was elicited by the appearance of a young man with a gun over his shoulder. The new arrival was tall, strong, and rather handsome; his good looks, however, being somewhat marred by an indefinable air of clumsiness that pervaded his whole person, from his black whiskers to his ill-fitting knickerbockers. "Where are you going?" began Beatrice sharply, without any previous form of greeting. "Well, I was going out just to see if I could pick up a rabbit or two," replied the young man, in a deprecating voice. It seemed a pity to waste such a fine day. But if there is any thing I can do "Oh, I wouldn't detain you for worlds!" interrupted the girl. "Especially when you have devised such And in that fact lay the whole secret of the girl's unreasonable temper. Until John Cooper made love to her she regarded him with the temperate liking that one extends to the majority of people one has known from childhood. In the capacity of a lover he bored her, and his unornamental virtues jarred on her fastidious taste; but at first unwilling to give pain, she had contented herself with parrying his advances so skilfully as to avert a regular offer. Being endowed with much sharper wits than her admirer, things might have gone on quietly in this way for an indefinite time, if it had not been for the appearance of the new rector's daughters on the scene. Adela and Lily Price were fine young women, with well-defined ideas on the subject of matrimony, and without a moment's delay they proceeded to lay siege to Mr. Cooper's rather susceptible heart. This was more than Beatrice's philosophy could stand. Maddened by the spec |