CHAPTER XII.

The wretch that would a tyrant own,

And the wretch his true-born brother,
Who would set the mob aboon the throne,
May they both be damn'd together.

BURNS.

IT was midnight when Paul returned to his ship silent and melancholy. He hastened below as if unwilling to look again on the land he was now leaving for ever; while the seamen, expanding their canvass again to the breeze, the ship darted rapidly out of the frith, and soon left the shores of old Scotland behind. Macgubb, the faithful companion of his fortunes, stood beside him; but his attempts to cheer him were for a time unavailing.

"Hame's aye hame, the Mull's the Mull, and the Nith's the Nith," said the trusty Galwegian in a voice resembling the satisfied growl of a she-bear over her cubs; "hame's aye hame be it ever sae hamely, there's nae Scripture truer than that.

VOL. III.

Y

But then folk maun dree their weird be it for good or evil; sae ye see, since it is our destiny to leave broad Scotland, there's nae place half sae hamely to us as the sea itself. We fix our dwelling on the billows, we launch our timber-habita

ye

would just take

my

ad

tion on the great deep; sae we cannot be said to be unfriendly to our country, since, like auld Hugh Paisley the fiddler, if we gang nae to the kirk, we gang nae where else. I jalouse now by that shake of the head that on the deep ye mean na to abide. Weel, we maun even make France serve our turn; and if vice, and use it as Davie Dempster did the deil, for yere ain gude purposes, by my faith I'll back ye. And, speaking of France, here it is. But we maun try our fortunes warily; for they say there has been wild wark there since we left it,cracking of coronets, crushing of mitres, and kicking of crowns. Liberty sits half-drunk and halfnaked stridelegs o'er the Louvre, and gives royalty perilous knocks. A pleasant land and a right merry people!"

The ship dropt anchor in the mouth of the Seine, and Paul set his foot again in France after an eventful absence. He entered Havre-de-Grace. The Bourbon flag was struck on harbour and battery, and there floated in its stead the tri-coloured standard. He looked anxiously on it; it was spotted with blood, rent with ball and sabre, and beneath it lay a pile of ghastly heads dropping

with gore, and blackening in the morning sun. As he stood, like a thing grown to the ground, and marvelling what all this might mean, he heard the approaching sound of a drum, and a shouting as if an ungovernable mob was rolling towards him. He walked slowly along the principal street; Macgubb whispered, "Carry your caams fair; look,-what think you of that ?" Paul looked, and saw the threshold of a church splashed with newspilt blood, the kennel running with gore, and handfuls of human hair scattered about. A sudden shout drew his eyes to another scene. An unsummable multitude of men and women, many half-mad and more half-drunk, came swarming along the street, bearing a pole, on which was hung a bloody shirt surmounted by a mob-cap, whereon was written "Liberty and Equality," while cries of "Long live the republic one, and indivisible," rent the air.

Paul retired to the portico of a house which he had formerly known as the residence of a nobleman,-it seemed his wish that this tumultuous and dangerous inundation should flow past without noticing him,-in this he was not to be indulged. A young woman, with blue eyes, golden tresses, and a form of nature's happiest workmanship, who, with a dozen more of the same sex, preceded the crowd, dancing and singing Ca Ira, turned suddenly upon him with a cry of "For king or people?" In her right hand she held a

sword; her arms were naked and her locks unbound. Fury was in her eyes, foam upon her lip, and on her naked bosom there was one spot of blood, which seemed newly drawn from some unhappy victim of popular madness.

Paul answered not; and indeed this revolutionary amazon gave him little leisure for reply. "Sisters and brothers!" she exclaimed, "this man is a stranger in our land,—of the sacred cup of freedom he has never tasted,-he has been nursed under the raven wings of despotism, and knows not perhaps that Heaven has sent down Liberty to France. Let me question him therefore before ye strike Art thou for the despot king or the sovereign people ?"-" Lady," replied Paul, "I know not well what you mean. The country of which I am a citizen owns no king but the law, and obeys no man but the chief magistrate."

The heroine of Havre-de-Grace stamped with her foot, and exclaimed, "Slave, and son of a slave, for these words thou deservest to die! We the Sovereign People own no law-no lord-no authority. The crown, the mitre, and the coronet, are under our feet, and rank, precedence, law, religion, state, bond, contract, and treaty, are dissolved as snow melts in the Seine. Into the limited lap of marriage the new philosophy of human nature is poured, and woman no longer confines her noble wishes and her love by the canon of some cunning priest. Even I, Louisa Lorance,

born in the sin of French nobility, have renounced father, mother, bridegroom, and altar. My father and mother are my own free will, my bridegroom is the people, and my marriage-chamber is under the greenwood tree." The concluding words she uttered with a faltering voice, her brow grew pale, she dropt her sword, and clasped her hands like one suffering in mental agony.

"Thou art a sweet girl, Louisa,” exclaimed a brawny sister heroine, with eyes swimming in intoxication, locks as coarse as meadow-rushes, and her naked arm brandishing a short steel pike,"thou art a sweet but a weak girl, Louisa, and stabbed Denis Gisors for indulging in a silly freedom with thee not an hour ago. Thou art a silly girl, but I love thee, and shall play thy part till thy hour of weakness flies." She brandished her half-pike before Paul, and exclaimed, “Slave, who art thou ?"-Paul felt that a direct answer was the wisest, and he was not sure that any answer was safe. "Ladies and gentlemen of Havre-deGrace," he said, he was allowed to say no more. "Wretch!" shouted the female querist, "speak the language of men. We are the people-the sovereign people—the men and women of the great nation of citizens !-Ladies and gentlemen!-they are words worthy of death!"-and she held her pike to Paul's bosom.

"Stay, Phillipa," said a citizen, laying his hand