exclaimed, "a circle, the centre of which is Paris, and its circumference the extremities of the earth. But liberty is a severe and a jealous goddess. Her insulted dignity requires to be appeased. France swarms with traitors and tyrants; we are too tender-natured, too fearful of blood; yet blood must be shed, the public safety demands it, the victims are bound, and let the axe strike." The gallery rung with acclamations.

Prince Egalité ascended the tribune,—a silence ensued so intense that the fall of a pin would have been heard. "Citizens," he said, "I hail the progress of regeneration. Nursed in the bosom of despotism, I knew not that I was a man till the light of liberty penetrated to the throne, and revealed to me the hideous aspect of tyranny. Go on therefore; let tyrants learn to tremble; the man who respects ties of kindred, or scruples to shed the blood of his family for France, is its enemy. For me, I have no kindred save the people, and no home save the wide world; and, I say again, spare no blood which the welfare of France demands."-" Wretched man," said a youthful member, "do you call the birds of prey to feast on the princes and peers of France? Your dark words are not mistaken, already Louis of Bourbon is on his way to this stern tribunal, from which man departs but to the guillotine." The murmur which succeeded this short address had hardly subsided when Louis was conducted into the Hall of Convention.

Paul looked on the Monarch of France, and the tear started in his eye. He had left him surrounded by the princes and the beauties of his kingdom, when all was gladsome as a bridal-feast. He found him courted and caressed no more,the servile satellites of the court were gone; he was environed by a fierce people clamorous for his blood, and impeached by the National Convention, who were but the weapons of the multitude. Many members rose and bowed; but many more sat sullenly and fiercely still. Louis was not a moment at the bar before a member rose to accuse him.

"Louis of Bourbon, commonly called King of France, you stand accused of insulting the majesty of the people, with wantonly spilling the blood of faithful citizens, and with seeking to subvert the glorious structure of the republic."-" He is guilty of all he is charged with and much more!" exclaimed a member seated beside him; "all trial is needless."- "He deserves to die and not to live!" exclaimed another, plucking from the tribune the impeaching member; "so let us give judgment quickly."-" He merits death," said another member; "so let him die, were it but by way of lesson to the kings of the earth. Pleasant to the sight of the free is the blood of tyrants!""Behead him! behead him!" screamed a lady from the galleries; "I never saw a king beheaded in my life." More mild and more merciful men

interposed, and appealed to the justice and generosity of the French nation in behalf of their unfortunate Prince. But all seemed in vain; the mild and timid were silenced by the numbers and ferocity of their republican colleagues, while the armed galleries overawed the bold and made the loyal tremble.

In the midst of this confusion, Prince Egalité possessed himself of the tribune: the galleries welcomed him with cheers. To the galleries this wretched demagogue addressed himself, though his face was to the president's chair. "Men of France, do nothing rashly; let your judgments be ripely considered, and be slow to strike. From the accusation and defence of Louis of Bourbon you may gather how much his guilt or his innocence divide conscientious citizens. One says his hands are red with blood, another that they are purer than snow; one says he is the object of public hate, another that he is the object of the nation's love. I give no opinion. My motion is, that he be dismissed harmless and unguarded, in order that he may prove his people's affection in his own capital. If this be deemed too merciful, let others move."-" Too merciful, good Egalité! not a bit, not a bit!" shouted the galleries; "let Louis prove his people's love, and we will go and look on." A clatter of arms was heard, and many rushed into the street expecting the royal victim.

Paul sought to interpose, and as he ascended the tribune there was a general cry of "Hear him, hear him !"-" Gentlemen of France," he said, "it was not thus that America triumphed. Why act ye not in the spirit of true freedom which ye have so boldly achieved? Why proscribe ye princes and nobles? Why reek your scaffolds with brothers' blood? To be great you must indeed be free;-to be the first of nations your liberty must be well established. But what is national freedom without individual safety? and what is the glory of your arms if the domestic hearths are to stream with blood? Look at America. Has one drop of native blood been spilt, save what was shed by enemies' swords? And look at Britain. She renounced tyranny for freedom, yet neither spilt the blood of her king, nor harmed priest nor noble."—" Name not America to the citizens of France!" exclaimed a member; "they are the last of men, and we are the first of people.""For daring to compare the freemen of France to the slaves of England he deserves to die," said another. "Turn him out with tyrant Louis !" yelled fifty armed miscreants in the galleries; "turn them out to experience the people's love,we seek no better boon. Move, move, good Egalité !"

The good Egalité was about to propose his infamous motion, when the new member for Cherbourg pulled him from the tribune, and with a

voice which startled many, and none more than Paul, exclaimed, " And wherefore, men of France, should not England be named ?-answer me that. England uses freedom, and France misuses it. England employs it, as wise men use fire, to warm and comfort her. France allows it to burn idly, or to consume and destroy. To England it is a blessing, to France it is a curse. Would ye know where true freedom is to be found? I have wandered over the earth,—I have seen and studied the nations, I shall tell you. Where true freedom is, genius rises as freely as light shines,—Justice is unaccompanied with violence, and Mercy is her companion. Where true freedom is there are no bands of armed men to overawe public opinion, and no opinion is forbidden save what disturbs the national happiness. Where true freedom is the life of the peasant is as sacred as that of the peer,-no man's life is taken away by a midnight tribunal-all is open as the mid-day. Where true freedom is the voice of the mob is unheeded and unfelt. The

cry of Blood, blood!' is not heard in the land, and all men obey, not from slavish instinct, but from principle,-not from fear, but love. Who knows the land where freedom is? Is it France? No; her prisons are crowded with the innocent,her streets are reeking with blood unjustly shed, and the wail of her fatherless children is heard incessantly in her palaces and vineyards. Is it Spain? No; the demon of superstition pre