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BOOK THE EIGHTH.
THE revolution year of 1848 was passing over Europe; the great storm-wind had penetrated to every height and depth. There was no chamber in which its voice had not sounded, no proud tree-top which had not bent before it, no sluggish swamp which was not stirred by its breath, no river and no brook the waters of which were not agitated by its power. Much sand and chaff had been whirled about, much was, too easily seized and carried away by the immense disturbance; but the battle-cry had sounded; a mighty storm was in the heavens. Men felt the approaching