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THE LEGACY OF A LATE POET, NO. IV.

(Gathered from his Portfolio.)

THE BODY-SNATCHER.

"I look down at his feet-but that's a fable."

POOR Street-roamer! Is she dead?
Ay:-She hides her weary head
Safely in the ground at last;
All her shame and grief are past:
Midnight curses cannot touch
Her whom once they wrung so much.
Let the watchman take his way,
Prisoning all who cannot pay;
Let the rake and harlot brawl,
She is safe shut out from all,
With a coffin for a home,
No more famine-forced to roam!
Many a morning, many an eve,
Did she wander forth to grieve
In the cold and friendless air,
Leaving in her hut Despair
Couching in the corner bare:

There were-Want, who thins the cheek,
Anguish, who doth never speak,
Ruin, and the Ghosts of friends,

Madness, and

-The story ends?

Ends? Alas! there's too much more

Ere the dark sad story's o'er :

Listen, whilst the tale we tell,
Like an old true chronicle.

"Twas on a wild, wet, gusty eve,
Whereon the very winds did grieve,
That last she went abroad, and tried
Her hunger in despair to hide;
Slowly she dragged her limbs along,
Muttering a hoarse heart-broken song,
With no sweetness in 't, nor measure,
But telling tales of vanished pleasure,
Till a man (by God forgot!)
Met her in a deadly spot:
"Twas a dark and lonely lane
Where first he smiled upon her pain,
And bade her be of better cheer,
For that help (his help!) was near,
And thus he whisper'd in her ear :—
"Come on with me unto my home:
I'll show you where it lies;

It is a pretty silent spot

All hid from human eyes:

A woman there might tell her pain,

And no one hear a groan again.

"What strange wish were you uttering, when

I broke upon you, there?

What was 't?"-Said she, "My soul was touched,

And spoke its grief in prayer;

I prayed for-death, (a wicked word)"—

Quoth he, "Perhaps your prayer was heard:"

"Nay, heard it was, and hoarded too,
For I was close by thee,
And never yet did mortal rue

Who ever trusted me;

A bed, sound sleep, and pain forgot-
These aye have been the mourner's lot.
"It is my trade-'tis my delight
To watch the weary roam,
And stop them on the stormy night,
And take them to my home;
Whate'er their sin, whate'er their pain,
My comfort never comes in vain."
Thus hand in hand they go along
Unto his house,-but hark!

The thunder growls, and spouting rains
Come down the flashing dark:

He cheers her (but he holds her fast)—

"A little on, and all is past:

"You need not fear though floods come down,

Nor shrink though thunders roar;

When once you're safe at home with me,
They ne'er can hurt you more;

I have a little quiet room,

Where you may sleep till crack of doom."
So pass they o'er the threshold stone,
The bound of life and death;
A curse-a cry—a muffled groan,

And the victim yields her breath:
Too weak to struggle-all is past;-
The Roamer is at rest at last!

Hang him high against the sky,
Lest the North-wind pass him by!
Let all the frosts to winter known
Strip him to the blanched bone,
Scorching suns and chilling rains,
Whilst he rattles in his chains!
Ghosts! go screaming round his head!
Ghouls! go watch about his bed;
Do not let a worm be fed!

Let him live, and writhe and shake,

Like Hell's ever-restless snake,

Through the heart and through the brain

Stung into eternal pain !

-Yet, not so-not so, my soul!

There is still a goal

Some calm final resting-place,

Where the worst may end his race.

None may do a deed so black
As shall earn the eternal rack-
Ceaseless, never-ending woe:
Pity, who doth watch below,
(Even below!) will by him pray
Till he cast his chains away,—
Till he lose both vice and pain,
And turn to gentle thoughts again!

THE ADVENTURES OF A REVOLUTION.

CHAPTER I.

I was born of parents in the lower class of life, honest, indeed, but not very well clothed. They lived at Paris, and amused themselves with working for their livelihood. This occupation admitted of a great deal of variety: sometimes it consisted in cleaning the shoes of loungers in the Champs Elysées; sometimes in selling apples on the Pont Neuf; sometimes in plying the journeyman to a barber, or the handmaid to a trafficker in fish; all trades, in short, furnished them with opportunities of displaying their accomplishments and industry. They were of a merry disposition, though increasing years and many eventful circumstances had contributed, at the period of my birth, to soberize with a thoughtful gravity the levities of their early youth. The birth, the unfortunate and stormy life, the melancholy catastrophe of an elder brother of mine, made a principal cause of this change in their natural disposition. Still, however, they were fond, but rationally fond, of pleasure. They went, at the close of their day's work, to the theatres; and, not content with seeing the play, they enjoyed also the pleasure of criticising it. Notwithstanding their ignorance of Greek, they knew something of the unities; and, despite of their humble origin, they were singularly capable of judging in what manner poets should paint kings and Cæsars, and actors should represent them. They loved, too, a dance occasionally; and, though not addicted to drunkenness, were partial to a song. But they varied these lighter pleasures with a taste for reading books of history and philosophy: nay, they were a little given to speculation themselves. They studied politics with an eye towards the future equality of man: though a very irascible couple, they thought nothing more charming than Rousseau's chimera of perpetual peace; a fine sentence touched them to the quick; and an antithetical maxim converted them from one dogma to another. Still they were a fine, reflective, high-spirited, and generous pair; and, perhaps, not to be excelled by any persons whatsoever in their own station of life.

There is an old obsolete law by which a landlord has a great interest in the property of his tenants: if they are unmindful, dull, or imbecile, he is enabled, by this law, to encroach on their little effects; and, if he succeeds in his first attempts, according to this law, it rarely happens that the poor tenants get any redress, unless a son should chance to be born to them during the process. Then, indeed, the son repossesses himself of whatsoever property the landlord may have obtained from his parents, and is very often entitled to considerable damages for the attempt. The name of the law by which the landlord acts, is the "Right of Strength;" that by which the son of the tenant acts, is the "Strength of Right." Now it so happened, that our landlord, Monsieur Charles Capet, had, for some time, looked with an unfavourable eye upon my poor parents: nor can it be denied but that they, in turn, regarded him with a certain suspicion. During the time of one of his predecessors, the two parties had undergone a very severe lawsuit on the grounds I have mentioned. But my elder brother, though not without a few good prin

ciples, had led so irregular and criminal, and, I may add, foolish a life, that an early and violent death was the consequence of his excesses. This premature event deprived my parents of all the reparation they would otherwise have obtained. Nevertheless, the costs to their landlord had been immense; and the present proprietor looked back both at the principles and the effects of that protracted and calamitous lawsuit, with fear, indignation, and disgust. Yet, though within the bosom both of landlord and tenant, this soreness of reminiscence remained, each with national politeness sometimes forgot, and often concealed it. My father and mother greeted Monsieur Capet with great civility whenever they met him in public; and Monsieur Capet, who, with all his faults, was a remarkably fine gentleman, always returned their salutations with a bow of inimitable grace. There was an agent, an umpire, as it were, employed by my parent and Monsieur Capet, to adjust their respective claims. He was a man of sense and honesty; he gave up the rent which my father paid, and he demanded, in turn, the fulfilment of certain conditions in the lease, which landlords, in the hurry of polite life, are too often accustomed to forget. The name of this umpire was Monsieur Chambre des Députés. Our landlord had been a gay man in his youth; and, among the miscellaneous fruit of his amours, was supposed to be a certain priest, of the name of Polignac. Certainly, considering that Polignac was possessed of very mediocre ability, the power he had obtained over Monsieur Capet was something very remarkable, and tended to confirm the scandal, which made the priest the son of the landlord. Polignac had a great dislike to Chambre des Députés; he hated the whole of that family. We have an instinct by which we know when people dislike us: Chambre des Députés, therefore, perceiving the rancour of Polignac, resented it to the best of his ability. Whenever there is a quarrel (my remark is new and deep) between a man's favourites and his agents of business, his affairs are pretty sure of going to the dogs. Chambre des Députés represented to Monsieur Capet various faults in the conduct of Polignac-Polignac dwelt for ever on the vices of Chambre des Députés : poor Monsieur Capet was very much puzzled between them. Now, according to our lease, it was for my parents to choose their agent; but Polignac represented to Monsieur Capet the extreme impropriety of this condition. Perceiving himself in danger from the enmity of his rival, and thinking that matters would come ultimately to that pass-that one or the other of them must fall-he boldly proposed to old Monsieur Capet to discharge Chambre des Députés at once. "Observe, my master," said he, "that this fellow is becoming very troublesome. Instead of consulting your interests, he minds only those of Monsieur et Madame Le Peuple: by degrees, from insisting so pertinaciously on their rights, real or supposed, he will come to encroach upon yours; if you discharge him now, no one can interfere between you and your tenants; their rents certainly ought to be raised; and the old condition of repairing their houses ought also to be done away with. Both these objects we can effect, if you will take my advice, and get rid of this meddling interloper: nor think it in the least dishonest to break faith with your tenants; God has a particular dislike to tenants; he made the world only for landlords."

"That is very true," quoth Monsieur Capet; "but, supposing Monsieur et Madame Le Peuple have another son, and, while I am pushing the law against them, they should be suddenly enabled to push the law against me? You recollect how much the last lawsuit

cost my family?"

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"Oh! they are too old to have another child. Besides that, the law they depend upon is very much altered of late years; the Right of Strength' is worth fifty of the Strength of Right.'" Various other reasons did Polignac adduce, which, not being very wise, it is only tedious to repeat. Suffice it to say, that they were wise enough, at least, to make considerable impression upon this silly old man.

My parents had a mania of their own; they were especially fond of bill-sticking. In the last lease they had made with Monsieur Capet, they had particularly insisted on this right. It did not, they alleged, prevent their doing their business and fulfilling their duty; but they owned, with great candour, that they liked the privilege for this reason, should any dispute arise with the landlord, they could through this channel express their sentiments without going to law; by this expression he might take warning, and they obtain redress; it was a quiet, yet impressive way of preventing a real quarrel; for it explained at once to him how far their sentiments on any particular subject went; and the discussion it generally produced, enabled him to learn the law on the matter from common conversation, without paying a fee for it. Bill-sticking, therefore, was not without its advantages to the landlord as well as the tenant. It was soon known, for rumour, like air, creeps through the smallest crannies, that some designs were entertained by Messrs. Capet and Polignac against poor Chambre des Députés. Nothing can exceed the consternation into which this report threw my parents. The idea of so gross an infringement of their lease filled them with dismay; they beheld in it the parent of all other evil; they saw themselves pillaged, plundered; their rents raised; their houses unrepaired; without friend or mediator; left a prey to the caprice, the necessities, and the folly of every succeeding landlord. They lost not a moment in flying to the printer: they covered the walls with hand-bills. In gigantic capitals they expressed their fears -they implored-they threatened-they warned." This will never do," cried Polignac to Capet, as he entered his study, with his pockets full of hand-bills: "we must make a bold stroke-discharge Chambre des Députés, and prohibit the licentiousness of hand-bills. Henceforth let hand-bills only publish these two sentences, High rents and no repairs,' or 'God bless Monsieur Capet and d―n his opponents!'

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"That last phrase is not religious," said Capet, piously crossing himself.

"I beg your pardon," quoth Polignac; "every thing that is damnable ought to be damned."

CHAPTER II.

THE heroes of our family have always been remarkable for the rapidity of their growth. Upon the eve of this quarrel between my parents and my landlord, I suddenly leaped into day. I was soon able to become disagreeably active to Monsieur Capet. As there

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