sesses, which no other ever will possess. She has seen what others can only fancy: she has breathed the actual air of that foreign land, one might say of that extinct world, of which others can only attain a comparatively faint, possibly a very false, conception from report. What to us are but guesses, dreams, ingenious fabrications, are certainties to her. She is to us like one who has been down among the dead. Think of her calling to mind sometimes the days when the first Essex, then the young Viscount Hereford, won her heart and hand, not far from fourscore years ago! It must seem to herself like looking back upon a previous state of existence, when she might almost doubt if she was the same being that she is now. Her descendant, it will be observed, says very little in his poetical tribute of her first husband, and nothing at all of her third; indeed he all but blinks Essex, though his own great-grandfather, as completely as Blount; for the queen's favourite, for whom she is said to have quitted the queen's favour, must be understood to be Leicester. The verses, however, paint her old age as having been much what we should fancy it would be. Her kindness to the poor, which is so strongly dwelt upon, is an interesting feature in the delineation, and one which all that is known of her would especially lead us to expect to find in it. What is said about the "better sort" being in the habit of repairing to her "as to an holy court," may be thought a little more difficult to understand.'

One of the most interesting portions of the book is devoted to the history of the eldest daughter of Lettice, the Lady Penelope Devereux, afterwards Lady Rich. She inherited her mother's marvellous beauty. She was the Stella of Sidney's 'Astrophel and Stella,' and the object of his sincere passion. Her life is full of strange events and shifting fortunes.

Such are the chief matters elucidated in the volume before us. The diligent research and careful accuracy throughout are equal to the skill displayed in the arrangement of the complicated story, and the good taste and judgment of the general remarks. The work, when completed, will be in all probability an indispensable commentary on the history of England for all real students, since it will be an authentic collection of all ascertainable facts regarding the private history of some of the most distinguished families in the country. The student of history who would obtain more than the dry bones of that science, must be a philosopher and a profound observer of human nature. Such a one will know how to value, as a commentary on the political annals of our country, The Romance of the Peerage.' He will be aware that the Curiosities of Family History' often throw a light upon the darkness, and explain the otherwise inexplicable curiosities of the national history.

་

SEBASTIAN LECLERC.

ONE fine midsummer morning, in the year 1665, the exciseman who had the care of the Porte St Denis, one of the chief entrances to the city of Paris, was accosted by an aged man, who, with his long hair, bald forehead, and beard fashioned in the style of Henry IV.'s time, had a somewhat singular aspect. He courteously saluted the officer on guard, and inquired of him in a strong Alsatian dialect, Can you tell me whereabouts Sebastian Leclerc lives?'

At this question the exciseman, a stupid-looking ninny, opened his mouth wide, and stared with a bewildered look at his interrogator. Sebastian Leclerc?' he repeated. 'Is he a clerk of the Excise? I don't know any one of that name in our company.'

A clerk of the Excise!' exclaimed the old man in a voice which insensibly betrayed somewhat of contempt for the office. Assuredly not. Sebastian Leclerc is my son.'

In what quarter of the town does he reside?'

stranger, with the twofold susceptibility of an old man and a provincial.

The clerk burst into a fit of laughter, and called out to his companions, who were within the office, Hallo! there! Do any of you know Sebastian Leclerc, who lives in PARIS?'

'Sebastian Leclerc ?'

Yes, this old fellow is his father, and has been inquiring for him.'

One of the party, wishing to play off his wit on the stranger, put his hand to his forehead with an air of mock gravity, and said, 'He lives in the Rue St Jacques.'

'Not so,' said another; 'near the convent of the Capucins.'

'I have an idea,' interrupted a third, that he lodges in the faubourg St Antoine.' 'On the Pont Neuf.'

'On the towers of Nôtre-Dame.'

The traveller listened to all this foolish jesting with apparent calmness, and then gravely said, 'I cannot understand what pleasure you find in making game of an old man who has never before seen Paris, and is a stranger to its customs. It is very possible that my question may be ridiculous, but the respect due to my age might, methinks, have exempted me from your raillery. Here is a bourgeois listening to us. I have little doubt he will show himself more courteous and better taught than you seem to be.'

As he thus spoke, he turned towards a man, apparently about forty years of age, who stood a few paces off, wrapped in his cloak, and silently observing the whole scene. My good man,' remarked the new-comer, Paris is not a town in which one can point out a person's abode without having some clue to his residence. What is your son's occupation? Possibly the knowledge of his profession might enable me to guess the quarter in which he would most probably reside.' 'Sir,' replied the old man, my son is employed as a designer in the Royal Manufactory of Gobelins.'

In that case, there can be no difficulty in finding him, for he must be an inmate of the factory itself. You see,' said he, turning to the exciseman, if, instead of passing your jokes upon this old man, you had asked him the same question I have done, you would have been able at once to give him the information he required.'

The clerk looked insolently at the person who thus addressed him, and taking him by the shoulder, said, Perhaps you have a mind to try what kind of place a prison is, sir; you seem so well inclined to preach your homilies to the clerks of the Excise?'

'Hold your tongue, and prepare yourself to obey my orders.'

'Capital! this is being grand indeed! Hollo! comrades, come here all of you, hat in hand, to receive the orders of a citizen who is about to issue his commands to the officers of Excise.'

'Silence! if you please. Conduct this old man directly to the Gobelins, and do not quit him till he has found his son.'

'Well, this is better still! Do your commissions yourself, if you please, my good sir.'

The stranger turned towards another of the clerks, and desired him to call the supervisor. The tone in which he gave this order bespoke so much the habit of command, that the clerk obeyed directly. In a few moments the supervisor made his appearance. sooner did he perceive the supposed bourgeois, than he respectfully took off his hat, and bowing almost to the ground, exclaimed, Monseigneur le Surintendant!'

No

'Sir,' said Colbert with a tone of severity, I had requested you and your colleagues to choose for the office of excisemen people who knew how to discharge their duties with gentleness and courtesy. How does it then happen that I find amongst them a fool who amuses himself at the expense of the passers-by?' The

I shall dismiss the man at once,' replied the head official. 'My lord,' interrupted the old man in a pleading tone, 'I would not for the world, merely on account of a joke, occasion the ruin of an honest man, who is perhaps the father of a family.'

'I pardon him, then, at your request,' replied the intendant: let him, however, make haste to obey my orders.'

The poor clerk, half dead with fright, promptly seized the old man's knapsack, which he placed on his own shoulders, and only seemed anxious to start as quickly as possible.

"Wait a moment, my boy; I must thank monseigneur both for you and for myself; and I will also tell him a thing which may perhaps interest him. Monseigneur, my name is Laurent Leclerc, and to-morrow I shall have completed my hundredth year! It was for the sake of celebrating this anniversary with my son that I set out on foot from the city of Metz, which is my home, and am now entering the streets of Paris.' 'Your hundredth year! You a hundred years old?' exclaimed Colbert.

'Yes, monseigneur, I contracted a second marriage when I was seventy years of age. God blessed this marriage, as he did that of Abraham, and he gave me a son, who has been my joy and pride. For the last ten years he has supported me by his labour, and given me a pension of four hundred livres, which he saves from his salary; and on this his mother and I live happily together. He cannot leave Paris because of his occupation and his family cares; and the other day he wrote to us, saying how it grieved him not to have the comfort of seeing and embracing us once more. "Come, wife," said I to Margaret," we must set off and see him; we are both, thank God, hale and sound; and in the corner of the cupboard we have a little bag of silver which will pay your seat to Paris. I will start to-morrow; you, eight days hence; and we will all meet together, please God, at Paris, on the hundredth anniversary of my birth, and a happy day it will be!" Margaret joyfully acceded to my proposition. I set off with my knapsack on my back and my staff in my hand-and here I am, after my fifteen days' journey on foot, gay and fresh as when I started, and longing to embrace my son.'

'I thank you, my friend, for these details; they interest me deeply. I am a lover of good men and of dutiful sons. I hope to have it in my power to show you that this rencontre has been a fortunate one for you. Farewell: to-morrow you shall receive my jubilee gift; in the meanwhile, will you favour me by accepting this trifle?' Thus saying, he slipped three gold pieces into the centagenarian's hand.

The old man and the clerk of Excise stepped into a hackney-coach, and in the space of half an hour they drove into the courtyard of the Gobelin factory.

It happened to be the hour when the artisans leave the manufactory to go to their dinner, each in his own little apartment in the interior of the establishment.

Suddenly one of their number uttered an exclamation of joy, and threw himself into the arms of the aged Leclerc. My father, can it be you? Is it indeed you yourself? Is it possible that, for the sake of giving me this happiness, of allowing me to embrace you once more, you have actually undertaken this long and fatiguing journey?'

Long it was, but fatiguing it was not,' proudly replied his father. I no more feel fatigued by my fifteen days of travel, than I used to do at twenty after a long ramble. Come, my own good Sebastian, my dear son, let us have one more kiss, and then take me to see thy wife and children!'

threw her arms first around one, then around the other: it seemed as if she could never weary of embracing them. 'And are you, too, here, my mother?' said the young man: 'now, then, my happiness is indeed complete! the first and dearest wish of my heart is accomplished. I can at length see all whom I love united together around me.' He took his mother by the hand, drew his father's arm within his own, and led them both to a small lodge, where they found a young and pretty woman engaged in laying the cloth. Four children, the eldest of whom seemed about seven years of age, were assisting her in her domestic labours, whilst three still younger were gambolling joyously around her. 'Two covers more, dear Pauline-two covers more!' exclaimed Sebastian before they had reached the threshold. At the well-known sound of this welcome voice, she hastened forward to meet him with her children around her; and her husband said in a voice tremulous with emotion, 'Here is my father, Pauline-here is my mother.'

The little children screamed with joy, and strove who should have the first kiss from grandpapa and grandmamma. Their young mother, following the pious usage of those days, knelt to receive the benediction of the aged couple.

Her children imitated her example, and knelt by her side. The aged man, laying his hands with solemnity upon their bended heads, said, 'My God, let thy blessing rest upon these little ones, and upon their mother. Preserve them from all evil under the shadow of thine Almighty wing; and keep them in thy holy ways, that we may all be united hereafter in heaven, as we are, praise be to thy name, to-day on earth.' Amen!' was echoed by every voice and from every heart in that little band.

'And now, my children, let us come to dinner. I must have my son at one side and Pauline at the other; and you, my wife, shall sit at the other side of our Sebastian, and take care of the little children.'

I need not add that the repast was a joyous one; nor did the emotion they had experienced prevent any of the party from doing justice to the good dinner which Pauline had provided, for her talents as housekeeper were equal to her comeliness.

The happy party were on the point of rising from table, when the celebrated painter Lebrun, director of the Royal Manufactory of Gobelins, entered with a paper in his hand. My dear Sebastian,' said he, 'I come to you as the bearer of good news. Monseigneur, the intendant of finance, has increased your salary from 1200 to 2000 francs a-year; moreover, he has named you subdirector of the Royal Manufactory of Gobelins, an office which he has created expressly for you, on account of the favourable testimony which it has happily been in my power to bear both to your character and talents; and finally, in order that your father may not be obliged to return to Metz, he has obtained for him from his majesty a pension of 600 livres, with reversion to your mother; and has also empowered me to provide them both with apartments in this establishment. Thus you will no longer be under the necessity of separating from them.'

Thanks, sir-a thousand thanks,' exclaimed Sebastian.

'May God reward M. Colbert for this!' said the aged Laurent.

'Sebastian,' added Lebrun, when the young man was somewhat recovered from his emotion, you must profit by the bounty of his majesty and M. Colbert, by becoming a superior artist. Hitherto, poverty has prevented the free exercise of your talents; now, nothing can, nothing ought any longer to stand in the way of your entire success.'

EDINBURGH

No. 244. NEW SERIES.

A WORKING-MAN'S RECOLLECTIONS. My earliest recollections are associated with my father's workshop. In looking back to the youthful period of life, and the years immediately succeeding, it has often occurred to me that some particulars might be revived, which, in the present day, when the great questions of education, food, and work, are occupying the public mind, would assist in exposing a defect or suggesting a remedy. Perhaps one of the most effectual means of arriving at just conclusions on which to base practical remedial measures, would be to get a number of operatives and artisans to make a clean breast of it-to enlighten the world honestly as to their social economy, their ways and means, sayings and doings.

As soon as I could hold a hammer, the workshop was my chief place of resort after school hours and on half holidays. I had a mechanical turn, and was fond of handling tools, and was brought up to consider myself as destined to become a cabinetmaker, and to plod through life at the side of the bench. For more than twenty years I pursued this calling, never dreaming that any other sphere of existence would open before me. I have consequently mingled much with workingmen, and had abundant opportunities of becoming acquainted with their prevalent habits and modes of thinking.

The establishment to which the workshop appertained was in a country town within a hundred miles of London; the number of 'hands' employed, including an apprentice or two, varied from six to nine, according to the state of business. The hours of work from March to October were from six in the morning till seven in the evening, and during the other half-year work commenced in the morning at daylight, and ended an hour later at night. Working by candlelight commenced for the season on the 13th of October-why this particular day was selected I never could make out-and ended punctually on the 1st of March. The men had half an hour for their breakfast at eight, an hour for dinner at twelve, and half an hour for tea between four and five in the afternoon: at times, however, instead of going home to the latter meal, they drank a pint of beer in the workshop. They were punctual in their attendance, according to the conventional acceptation of the term; that is, if they reached the shop within five or ten minutes of the exact time, it was considered as being all fair; but the hour of leaving off work presented a singular contrast to the loose and straggling system of arrival; then every one was ready to depart, even before the 'clock was cold.'

The description of the proceedings of one day would suffice, in main points, as an example of what took place year after year. On commencing in the morning, or on returning from a meal, several minutes were always

PRICE 1d.

wasted in gossip while each man took off his coat and put on his jacket and apron; then a desultory stroke or two of the saw or plane would be given, interrupted by a few additional snatches of conversation: movement at first seemed irksome, and perhaps a quarter of an hour was lost in getting the shop fairly under way. All at once, after the lapse of an hour or so, some topic of general interest-a prize-fight, murder, or 'radical reform'-would be started; and as cabinetmaking is too noisy a trade to allow of talking and working at the same time, a general suspension of labour ensued. The debate not unfrequently produced a quarrel; and as the excitement increased, the epithets 'fool,' 'liar,' &c. were bandied about without the slightest regard for decorum, or respect for personal feelings. Notwithstanding the heat of disputation on such occasions, there seemed to be a tacit understanding that one eye and ear should be kept on the alert for the master's approach. No sooner was this perceived, or his foot heard on the stair, than the signal was given, and all hands fell to working as busily as bees. While the master remained in the shop, this assumed diligence was kept up, and if any one spoke, it was with suppressed voice. No sooner, however, did the principal disappear, than an immediate slackening followed — every arm seemed suddenly deprived of half its energy, every tongue was loosened.

The disputes were, in the majority of instances, on the most trivial points; and in proportion to the speakers' ignorance of the subject under discussion, so was the vehemence of the debate. The arguments were generally marked by bitter and obstinate prejudices-prejudices of the class. This is a most lamentable and fatal characteristic; but I shall have occasion to advert to it further by and by: as yet, many details remain to be brought forward.

Our sketch so far may be considered as filling up the forenoon in the afternoon, about four o'clock in summer, or at dusk in winter, a proposition would now and then be made to 'have in some beer,' or purl, or egg-hot, according to the season. It was not what is called a drinking-shop, but the men would drink beer whenever they could get it, and consider themselves ill treated if none were offered to them when they were out at work. On this point much might be said respecting the deficiency of proper independence of character under which such a state of feeling would prevail. As regards drinking, however, a great advance had been made upon the workmen of the preceding half century. An old man who had worked in the shop during a long course of years often related particulars of the scenes he had witnessed. To quote his words, a bushel of beer was often drunk in a morning before eleven o'clock,' and all sorts of tricks and subterfuges were had recourse to in order to evade the master's notice. The youngest hand

would generally be posted as sentinel, and when no other mode of escaping observation presented itself, the beer would be drawn up at a back window by a string.

In many workshops an absurd system of fines prevails, the main object of which is to accumulate a fund to be expended for beer: cabinetmakers are no exception. Fines are sometimes levied if the grindstone, or rubbing-down stone, on which plane-irons are sharpened be not used according to certain prescribed regulations: sometimes a point connected with the fire and candle, with the glue-pot or tinder-box, constituted the ground of an imposition. Then there is the footing,' or bucksheesh, expected from every new hand engaged to work at the shop. Should the new hand prove refractory, and object to pay his footing, he lays himself open to all sorts of annoyances, the chief of which is taking away and concealing his tools, if he have any. This is called 'setting old Mother Shornie to work;' and as the poor man's tools disappear one by one, the old lady is said to have carried them off. Should he want to use the glue, another will immediately snatch the pot from the fire and keep it on his own bench. The upshot is, that the recusant either pays the fine or quits the shop. Bad luck, too, to the unfortunate wight whose apron was hemmed at the bottom! he immediately | rendered himself liable to a fine, as the immemorial custom of the craft requires the apron to be decorated with a fringe made by pulling out a few cross threads at its lower extremity. Among blacksmiths, when a man mounts a new apron, it must be stamped with a quart pot, which it is needless to say is brought in full of beer; and a painter, while at work, becomes 'fineable' if he drop his brush, and it be picked up by a shopmate before he can recover it. Some of these laws were enforced in our workshop: one of the men appointed by the others acted as treasurer. When the time came for drinking the sum collected, it often fell short of anticipation, leaving room to suspect the treasurer's faith. The same fact was also observed with regard to a fund raised by penny a-week subscriptions for the relief of tramps: it was never so large as it ought to have been.

There was a difference in morning and afternoon conversation: the former has been described; the latter, especially after beer, was somewhat more boisterous and unseemly. So it went on with little variation year after year. There was no ambition, no aspiration, no notion of daily bettering, of steadily carrying out a fixed purpose, save that of supplying animal wants. This, it may be said, is so pre-eminent a necessity, as to absorb all others; but we are told that,

'Well-earned, the bread of service yet may have
A mounting spirit.'

might have picked up among his own connections; the contraband object being hastily laid aside whenever the employer made his appearance. Among other instances, I have known a man to make a dozen chairs in a shop constantly overlooked by a foreman, and carry them away piecemeal concealed about his person. Small articles inadvertently left in a chest of drawers, writingdesk, or other furniture sent in for repair, were always regarded as lawful prizes, and appropriated accordingly. All this might be set down to an attempt on the part of a subordinate class to indemnify themselves for the absence of privileges enjoyed by others, but, as we have seen in the treasurer's defalcation, they were not true to one another. And it almost invariably happened that the messenger sent out to buy bread, and cheese, and beer, or the materials for concocting egg-hot, made a profit for himself out of the contributions by purchas-¦ ing deficient or inferior articles. The detail of such | facts is a melancholy one: no attempt, however, has been made to overstate the evil; the knowledge of its existence may perhaps lead to measures of melioration. Occasionally a London hand on tramp was taken in for a short time; his stay generally had the effect of interfusing a little metropolitan slang with the provin cial vernacular. One useful result, however, followed: the new-comer furnished us with hints how to work, contrivances for abridging and expediting labour, or a new style of construction, which we could continue after he had left. But our men were very ill-equipped | with tools: scarcely one, indeed, who did not avail himself of the most miserable make-shifts; anything to save the outlay of a shilling. With these they would go on for years, unaware perhaps that they were sacrificing time, and producing inferior work, with such imperfect appliances. The better the tools, all other things being equal, the better is a man enabled to work: a few weeks' saving of what was spent at the public-house would have put our men on an efficient footing in this particular. But they were incapable of taking a comprehensive view of their position and prospects; they could never look beyond the next Saturday.

Disheartening as all this may appear, there are one or two redeeming points. As a boy, I was extremely fond of reading, and having a good memory, often repeated in the workshop some of the stirring incidents of travel and adventure which I had perused. On such occasions I had always an admiring and attentive audience. It is true that time was lost while they ceased their work to listen to my recitals; but the conversation that followed showed a capability of being interested by topics out of the ordinary range when presented in a very familiar style. There was a certain esprit de corps also among these men, which, under proper management, might become a motive-power of no mean value for moral training and advancement. At times, too, manifestations of loyal attachment and

were, of a genuine nature deadened and perverted by mischievous habits. When we consider that men are found to work day after day for mere food and raiment, without an idea of the dignity of labour, or the poetry of life to sustain them, we are impressed with the fact of a latent power in this dogged perseverance, capable of greater things, when once the mental slough can be cast off.

The routine of workshop duty was often interrupted by jobbing-work' at customers' houses. Country tradesmen, as is generally known, devote themselves to more numerous branches of trade than the shopkeepers of the metropolis, or what may be termed provincial capitals. Hence the workman's occupation is more varied, and perhaps on that account more interesting, notwithstanding the depreciatory declaration of the real London artisan, that your countryman

knows a little of everything, and nothing well.' Removing goods, paper-hanging, lifting carpets, taking down and cleaning bedsteads, &c. of such our jobs mainly consisted. To some houses we paid periodical