his bosom "if it had been a boy, my heir would have had to encounter all the machinations of the enemies of our house; but no one will be tempted to hate this dear little girl." On the evening of February 13, 1820, her husband was murdered in her presence. The unfortunate Caroline was covered with the blood of his deathwound, and, after watching by his side during some hours of lingering agonies, she lost the husband of her youth, the father of her child and of an infant unborn. The depth of her affection could not then be fathomed, even by those who witnessed her passionate bursts of grief; but time has shown her faithfulness to his memory and her devotedness to his children. There are many circumstances of powerful interest attending that political and domestic tragedy which our limits will not permit us to introduce, because the novelty of recent events in the historical romance of reality whose leaves are unfolding one by one before our eyes, and of which the Duchess de Berri is the living heroine, prevents us from enlarging on the well-known past, however worthy the attention of the biographer. The Parisian populace and army were alike disposed to pay the utmost respect to the bereaved princess. The following extract from the unpublished journal of an English gentleman then in Paris thus pointedly speaks: "In 1820 I was standing in the gardens of the Tuilleries. The concourse of speciators awaiting the presence of some members of the royal family was immense. The Duchess de Berri was announced in the distance as having prepared to leave the palace. In an instant the heads of the multitude were uncovered. I awaited the actual presence or approach of royalty ere I thus gave an unmeaning or too servile homage. But the soldiery instantly struck my hat and commanded me to be uncovered. This was at least ten minutes before her Royal Highness's approach." The royal widow gave birth to her fatherless infant, the ill-starred Duc de Bordeaux, on the 29th of September, 1820. The events attending the birth of this unfortunate heir of Bourbon, in many instances like those of the son of James the Second of England, and Marie d'Este, were rendered still more similar by a protest pub lished in all the English papers in the name of the Duc d'Orleans, declaring the birth of the young Bordeaux to be an imposture. This document was denied by the house of Orleans; and whether it originated with Louis Philippe, or some officious friend, time will one day perhaps unveil, together with other mysterious transactions connected with the younger branch of the royal house of France. The publication seemed to produce no enmity between the then reigning family and the house of Orleans. During the latter years of the restoration, the Duchess de Berri was the star of fashion, and the encourager of the fine arts; and under her benevolent and judicious auspices, Paris experienced a prosperity that it has since regretted. The character of the young widow was never blemished, and she united great economy with charity and liberality. The conduct and adventures of the Duchess during the fatal three days of July, 1830-that revolution which disinherited her son,-and her subsequent exile at Holyrood, are minutely known to the public: we therefore hasten to the recital of her adventures during the summer of 1832. Previous to this perilous undertaking, the Duchess de Berri received news of the death of her father, the King of Naples, who died November 8th, 1831. Although she had been somewhat prepared for this event, yet when it was announced by the Count de Ludolf in the most tender manner, she uttered a cry of anguish, and fell senseless on the ground. The death of the King of Naples had certainly been. hastened by the events of the revolution of July, and by the painful circumstance of being forced to recognise the royalty of Louis Philippe to the prejudice of his grandson. An extract from one of his letters to his daughter, on this subject, will shew his feelings: "A king has often the most agonising duties to fulfil: mine are cruel-for I am both a father and a brother. It is my sister who dethrones my daughter, and if I take vengeance, it will be on my own blood. Ah! how different were the promises that your uncle of Orleans made me when I was in Paris, (June, 1830,) when he swore to me so present itself, he would never profit to the solemnly that, if ever the chance should disadvantage of your children; that he would never forget the pardon of the royal family, or the affectionate welcome he received from us, when, in a state of destitution, he came and took refuge at the court of Naples." More than eighteen months had elapsed since the dethronement of Charles the Tenth, when his daughter-in-law, roused by the calumnious pamphlets daily issued by the Parisian press, resolved, by an undertaking of desperate courage, to prove to the world that she was really the mother of the Duc de Bordeaux,-for who but a mother would encounter the risks and the personal sufferings and privations which she has for her son? Early in the spring of 1832 she left England, in company with M. de Mesnars, an ancient friend of her husband's, her first equerry; Mademoiselle Eulalie Kersabiec, and an attached servant or two. She was joined by the Count de Bourmont, who had resigned his command at Algiers. landed in Holland, went up the Rhine, traversed Switzerland, Piedmont, and Italy, and, for a while, took up her residence in Massa, whence, in March, she sent her contribution to the poor of Paris, then subjected to all the horrors of the cholera, when that scourge first devastated the French capital. This donation, as might have been expected, was rejected by the government. She On the 30th of April the Carlo Alberto, a Sardinian steam-packet, was seized and searched, under suspicion of having on board the Duchess de Berri and suite. Her attendant, Mademoiselle Lebeschee, was found there, and was confined a close prisoner at Marseilles ; but the Duchess de Berri had transferred herself at sea to the Sphynx, a Scotch vessel, and was finally landed on the coast of Provence. She traversed Provence in company with M. de Mesnars and M. de Bourmont. She went to Bourdeaux, walked on the public promenade of Tournay-went to the theatre, and there talked with the prefect, who little knew with whom he conversed. Then she travelled through Poitou, and finally arrived at La Vendée. She entered France, on this romantic expedition, with the staff of the pilgrim, rather than the sword of war. She declared war on a government which had an army four hundred thousand strong, a revenue of fourteen hundred millions of francs, two millions of national guards, and innumerable paid functionaries. She had no soldiers, no armed partisans—she had but a name, before which the government trembled, calling on all sides for succour. We have only space to form a slight journal of her adventures this summer whilst on her expedition to France. The first day of June she arrived in Paris. On the 5th she assisted at the funeral of General Lamarque: she saw defile before her the long procession of citizens who followed the remains of the General to the cemetery. There she was among them in man's attire, her beautiful light hair tucked under a dark peruque, and her upper lip ornamented with a pair of sable mustachios. She finished the day at Tortoni's café, listening to the details of politicians on her expedition to the west, and their various opinions on her character and undertaking. Two days after she went to the Gymnase, the theatre she had so highly patronised. She arrived there without being preceded by her cortege in the royal livery; no royal box was open to receive her. The performance was spiritless, for it was during the reign of the cholera. The piece was "Les Jours des Charles IX. ;" and the admirable Leontine once more delighted her patroness with the talents she had so generously fostered, little thinking how near that patroness was to her. After visiting every public place, either in her own habiliments, or more or less disguised, she was resolved to let the government know that she had passed eight days within the walls of their city of Paris. She wrote a visiting card, as to one of the same family, and, having enclosed it in a double envelope, she left it herself at the Tuileries. On the first of the inclosures she was forced to write "To the Queen"-on the second, "To her Royal Highness the Duchess of Orleans." When the card was read, Marie Amelie saw with surprise thereon, "Madame Duchesse de Berri, Regente de France." The very hour this freak was played, the heroine of this romance of reality departed from Paris, not by relays of post horses, but by the public diligence, in which she freely discussed the news of the day, the disturbances of the west, and other subjects connected with her own hopes and fears, with the people that chance had made her fellowtravellers. In this manner she arrived at Nantes on the 9th June. The next day was Whit sunday: she attended mass at the church of Saint Nicholas. As she entered the church with Mademoiselle Kersabiec (the faithful companion of all her wanderings), a man presented her with the holy water, and, fixing his eyes on her, respectfully said, "Madame, you are very imprudent!" Meantime the emissaries of the police posted down from Paris to aid the police of Breton. In one of her adventures Madame found herself face to face with Vidocq-with that Vidocq who fancied that no one could stand his scrutinising regards without detection. This might be the case with conscious guilt; but innocence stood the test well, and Madame escaped this grand inquisitor of police without discovery. We pass over with reluctance the details of the flying partisan-war that was kept up in the district of La Vendée called La Mara, during the summerthe siege of the Chateau de la Penicière -and all the escapes of this enterprising heroine, who passed through as many hands, unbetrayed, as did Charles Edward after the battle of Culloden. We must now trace her steps to the Chateau Duguiny, a residence belonging to a family devoted to the cause of the Bourbons, and now held by two ladies, Mademoiselles Pauline and Marie Duguiny. Here she was joined by the Baroness de Charette, the illegitimate daughter of the late Duke, who had been adopted by her, and now followed her steps with the devotion of a daughter. The Count de Guibourg and Count de Mesnars were likewise of the party. The Hotel Duguiny was furnished with a hiding-place behind one of the chimneys, into which the parties had before retreated in time of alarm.* It was a converted Jew, of the name of Hyacinth Dreutz, that betrayed Madame de Berri. His brother-in-law, a man of some learning, M. Drack, had been librarian to the Duc de Bordeaux, and both had been loaded with obligations from Madame in the time of the prosperity of the royal family. Dreutz had been introduced as a faithful agent to the Duchess, and used to bring her letters from her various partisans. He waited a fitting opportunity, and sold the Princess to the French government for one million of francs, which he has since been paid. The conduct of this modern Judas forms a contrast to that of the faithful Breton female servants of Chateau Duguiny, who, though entrusted with the secret, and offered bribes of forty thousand francs cach, nobly resisted the temptation. The names of these females, Charlotte Moreau, and Marie Bossy, will be recorded in history as an honour to their sex and country. On the 31st of October she received letters from this Dreutz at the chateau, and appointed him to meet her again on the 6th of November. After this last interview, he gave information to the authorities of Nantes, and to General d'Hermancourt, that the Duchess de Berri was at the Chateau Duguiny, rue Haute de Chateau, and then about to sit down to table. A strong military force of twelve hundred men, with double that number of national guards, accompanied by divers gendarmes and policemen, proceeded, at six o'clock in the evening of the 6th of November, to stop up all the approaches and avenues. The mayor, and two commissioners of police, obtained entrance into the house, after a good deal of delay and threats of having its gates forced. Search was made in every hole and corner of the premises, but though indications were met at every step that the Duchess was not far off, she was nowhere to be found. Three gendarmes, however, were stationed in each room for the night, and every precaution taken to prevent escape until morning, when a more minute inspection was to be made. The gendarmes in one of the upper rooms, finding the weather extremely cold, procured some wood, and lighted a large fire in the very fireplace in front of the closet in which the Duchess de Berri and her followers were concealed. This was in a small closet behind the chimney, the back whereof was a large plate of iron, which turned round on a pivot, and formed a double but small entrance into the closet. There was only a few feet square in that closet, and it had no window. For eight hours they resisted the heat to the utmost of their power: but finding themselves at last in danger of being suffocated, they called to the gensdarmes to put out the fire immediately; and on this being done, the back of the chimney was opened, and they all crawled out, one * See the design, accompanying this number, of the place in question, engraved exclusively for the Lady's Magazine and Museum. after the other, more dead than alive from the horrid torture they had endured all night. Mademoiselle Kersabiec, in the dress of a servant, came out first: she was followed by the Duchess, then by the Count de Mesnars, and, lastly, by M. Guibourg, who very nearly fainted, and afterwards declared that he was so close against the chimney that every blow of the hammer with which the officers struck to ascertain whether it were hollow, went to his heart. The Princess, on coming into the room, immediately said, "It is unnecessary for you to continue your search,—I am the Duchess de Berri. Where is the General? I entrust myself to his known military honour. If there is a guilty person here, it is I alone: this gentleman and this lady have only obeyed my commands." The Princess was completely disfigured by the dust and dirt of the hole in which she had been so long shut up, but at the same time preserved her presence of mind: so, likewise, did Mademoiselle Kersabiec; but the Count de Mesnars and M. Guibourg were quite exhausted. The most respectful attentions were paid to the Princess, and great consideration to the other prisoners. Several places of concealment had been formed in the house, one capable of holding ten persons, which was discovered from the wall having been newly coloured. In another there were engines and tools for coining, a printing press, and a great number of proclamations, including one to the people of Nantes, in which the Duchess promises them, that if they would declare in favour of Henry V., the seat of Government should be fixed at Nantes during the whole duration of the regency. At ten the next morning they were conveyed to the fortress of Nantes, and their capture was made known by proclamation. Under the table, in the room where the Duchess de Berri was apparently sitting when the alarm was given at the door below, a letter was found, which she had dropped in the hurry of the moment. It was from Paris, written with sympathetic ink, and it apprised the Duchess that her place of concealment had been discovered. M. Jauge, her banker, suspected as the writer, was consequently arrested at the Bourse, and no one but the gaoler allowed to see him. Long before this fatal period had arrived, the chief of her party, seeing no chance of success, earnestly entreated the Duchess to withdraw from the perils which threatened her. Wandering in the environs of Nantes, she only escaped the active search made for her person by almost daily changing her abode and her disguise. Sometimes she wore the habit of a keeper of cows or sheep; at others, she appeared as a miller, then as the femme de chambre of some wealthy house, and afterwards as a peasant's wife. Not unfrequently she eluded pursuit by being carried in a large bundle of hay upon the shoulders of some sturdy driver of a team of oxen. At length the Duchess was satisfied there was no safety for her but in large towns, but, at the same time, was ignorant of the new and rigid vigilance of the police, which ceased neither night nor day. She, consequently, determined to go to Nantes; she had several times resided there without detection, and the house of Mademoiselle Duguiny was prepared for her. The police, however, had accurate information of her intentions, and posted numerous secret agents at every avenue, who discovered the Duchess coming through the town with Mademoiselle Kersabiec, of Port St. Martin, in the dresses of peasants. When the authorities entered the house, the dining-room was the first object of inspection. It had been decorated by herself with fleur-de-lis, and inscriptions bearing the words "Navarino, Trocadero, Algiers," &c. Fires were burning in several rooms. Madame showed the holes burnt in her scorched dress to Gen. d'Hermancourt, saying, with a good-natured smile, "General, you have made war after the fashion of St. Lawrence;" for she and her faithful friends had nearly suffered the martyrdom of his gridiron. on me All the friends taken with Madame petitioned to be allowed to share her prison. The Count de Guibourg had suffered so much during the agonising confinement of the night of their capture, that the life of the old man was despaired of for some time. The Count de Mesnars and Madame Kersabiec were allowed to embark with her, on the 9th November, on board the steamboat that conveyed her to the castle of Blaye. The unfortunate Princess was treated with the deepest respect and tenderness by the authorities of Nantes, and by the populace, at embarkation. The castle of Blaye is noted in French history for having been the temporary resi dence of the Duchess de Berri's illustrious relatives, Louis the Twelfth and Anne of Breton, after their auspicious marriage, which brought the great fief of the Duchy of Breton to the crown of France. Anne of Breton, the heiress of Brittany, was the widow of Charles the Eighth, but left no children by the marriage. Louis, who passionately loved her, had endured a ten years' imprisonment on her account, before her union with Charles. He inherited the crown of France, and obtained the hand of his early love at the death of his sovereign, whose heir he was. The Castle of Blaye retains none of its ancient magnificence, excepting its strength. The apartment of the poor ladies now immured there is as desolate as can be conceived. An accurate delineation of it accompanies this sketch. It is called a mansarde, or, in other words, a sky dungeon. This abode was utterly forlorn till Madame de Berri had it papered at her own expense. Resting there after all her harassing fatigues of mind and body, she lately wrote to her family, "Any sort of home is good for me." As, grace à Dieu, we are writing for ladies instead of politicians, in the place of grave humdrum comments on all these events, in the style of newspaper postscripts, we shall conclude by making some mention of the letters written by the poor children of this devoted woman. letter of the Duc de Bordeaux is exceedingly in the style that little boys at school write to absent mammas; but, however transporting this style may prove to the recipient parties, it is not sufficiently ori The ginal to deserve translation. But the sprightly talents for which the young Princess has been famed since her infancy, the naïve and sweet letter of Mademoiselle, may be depended on as authentic, of which, indeed, it brings the internal conviction:— "My very dear Mamma,-It is I know for our sakes that you are so long absent from us. It appears to me much longer than a year, for my heart measures time by its impatience. When will you return to your poor children, who cannot be happy without you? Mamma Gontaut will not let me weep when I think of you; but who can reflect on so good a mother without regret? King Bordeaux pretends that he loves you much more than I do. Now that is not the case, I know. My brother is at this moment making a pretty uproar close to me, with a great curly water-dog, which he is teaching to shoulder arms. We found this creature here it is an excellent dog, very good-tempered and caressing; he leaps and barks with pleasure every time King Bordeaux condescends to a game of play with him, to which his Majesty is seldom very loth, to the great satisfaction of both. My brother don't wish me to write this, lest you should suppose that he is babyish, when he thinks himself so very rational! : "We both work hard at our studies, and I am not the least diligent. I know you would not like me to grow up an ignorant woman, and I hope one day you will consider me well informed. "I regret Lulworth, and another place still dearer, which I will never name till we return thither, because you always weep so bitterly when I mention it. My dear mamma, love and remember your girl; she will belong always to France, and be ever your "LOUISE." SHORT AND HIS WIFE. BY ANDREW PICKEN, AUTHOR OF "THE DOMINIE'S LEGACY." All mankind, and particularly all womankind, should read the story of Sam Short and his Wife. It is full of pathos and diversion, for it is entirely about marriage, and that sort of thing; and marriage may be considered as a joke by some people, but it was no joke to Mr. Samuel Short. "tied up," as he says himself, in a phrase that we do not at all like, seeing that it has a most ominous meaning. In his youthful days Sam was an inveterate joker, and grinned at his own wit like a very salamander. Other people laughed, too, when he spoke, either at the wit or at Sam, it matters little which. But these merry days are all past and gone. Sam is a married man now, and I scorn to tell a story about a common plebeian. Sam, though he had a big head, that would make any candid phrenologist blush for his science, and arms that reached almost to his knees, was a born gentleman. That is to say, his papa was a gross little country squire, of a dumpling shape, with a head still bigger than Sam's, and chops that hung down like a fleshy festoon, leaving beneath them a sort of wrinkle in the fat, which was sometimes out of courtesy called a neck, round which |