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this Newgate literature, that to quote the best is mere justice. There are touches of feeling and purity in its pages, though, under the circumstances, feeling would be a wonder, and purity an impossibility, which lead us the more to regret that choice of subject, and carelessness of composition, should injure a talent which can own such a charm. In Rodolph's nightly visits to dark alleys and suspicious taverns, he has interfered to save from a blow a poor abandoned girl, nicknamed the goualeuse, a word which, in thief argot, signifies singer ; he gives a severe lesson, in boxing, to his adversary, the chourineur-this last word stands for assassin ; and the trio proceed in perfect amity to the Lapin blanc:

The goualeuse was sixteen years and a half old. The purcst forehead completed her face of a perfect oval; a fringe of long lashes, so long that they turned upward, half shadowed her large blue eyes; the down of early youth softened her rounded and rosy cheek; her small red mouth, her thin, straight nose, her dimpled chin, had an adorable charm of contour. On either side her satin temples, a plait of pale, beautiful hair descended in a half circle to the middle of the cheek, and was raised again behind the ear, whose ivory tip was just perceptible beneath the tight folds of a bluechecked cotton handkerchief, tied, as is said vulgarly, "en marmotte;' a necklace of red coral was round her throat of dazzling whiteness and beauty. Her gown, of brown bombazeen, much too wide, allowed to guess at rather than see a delicate figure, pliant and round as a reed; a little worn, orange shawl, with green fringe, was crossed on her bosom. The charm of voice of the goualeuse had struck her unknown chanpion; in truth, this voice, soft, thrilling, and harmonious, had an attraction so irresistible, that the mob of ruffians and infamous women, among whom she lived, often begged her to sing, listened to her with delight, and called her la goualeuse.' She had also received another name, due no doubt to the virginal pu. rity of her features : she was called * Fleur de Marie,' which in argot signi. fies virgin."

The goualeuse had never known her parents. The first care she recollected was that of a hideous, one-eyed woman, who made her stand on the Pontneuf, with her small tray of sugar-barley, to excite compassion. She had often a glass of cold water for breakfast, and damp straw to sleep on. She was

beaten when she failed to bring home money, first in anger, next from motives of policy, as the old wretch found that the pity of the passers-by, for the fair child who cried, increased her profits. At last she fled from the torture, and hid herself in a woodyard; she was condemned as a vaga. bond to remain till the age of sixteen in a house of correction; and she thanked her judge for his goodness, for she had food and no blows, and the sun shone in the courtyard; and when she had done her task, she sat there and sung. . Her sixteenth birthday come—the prison doors openshe finds outside the mistress of the tavern, and her vile companions, who offer her lodging and gay clothes, if she will go home with them; but she has three hundred francs, and she sends them away, resolved, as she says, to enjoy life; and buys flowers to fill her room, and passes the summer days in the woods, in company of another young girl, discharged from prison at the same time.

While the money lasts, she forgets to seek for work; she has given her last forty francs and her mattress to a poor woman lying-in without assistance. She is repulsed where she craves employment, because, not to deceive, she tells whence she issued two months before: she walks forth saddened—the fine weather has passed away. She is hungry, and will soon lack shelter ; the old women are on her path once more, and she becomes their victim. This tale she has told to Rodolph on their first interview ; and Rodolph, determined to rescue her, returns to the Lapin blanc :

" • You are come for your change, no doubt,' said the ogress, (this being, according to Monsieur Sue's researches, the very appropriate name given the hostess of such a tavern.)

“Yes, and I will take the goualeuse to pass the day in the country.

« Oh, as to that, good fellow, it is out of the question.'

Why so ?' “ • Because she might never come back; her clothes belong to me; without reckoning that, she owes me still two hundred and twenty francs, for board and lodging, since I received her here; and if she were not honest as she is, I would not allow her to go further than the corner of the street at most.'

“ • The goualeuse owes you two bundred and twenty francs ?"

"Two hundred and twenty francs, ten sous; but how does that concern you? Would not a body suppose that you intended to pay ?-play the great lord, do!'

“* There,' said Rodolph, throwing eleven louis on the pewter of the ogress's counter ; 'and now, what is the worth of her clothes ?'

“ The old hag examined the louis, one after the other, with an air of doubt and distrust.

“Do you imagine I have given you bad money ? Send to change the gold, but let us have done. What is your charge for the miserable covering you hire to that poor girl ?

" The ogress, divided between the desire of a profitable bargain, astonishment at seeing a workman possessed of so much money, fear of being duped, and hope to gain yet more, was silent for a moment. At last she said —

“ • Her clothes are worth, at least, a hundred francs.'

"" • Rags like those ? pshaw; you may keep the change from yesterday, and I will give you another louis, no more. To allow myself to be fleeced by you, is to rob the poor.'

* Very well, friend; I will keep my clothes; the goualeuse shall not stir from this; I am free to set on my property what price I please.'

• May Lucifer treat you one day according to your merits! there is the money, go fetch the goualeuse."

The poor girl descends, and they leave the tavern together,

" • What is the matter?' said Rodolph ; 'you seem sad and embarrassed; are you sorry to accompany me?'

“Oh, no! quite the contrary ; butbut-you give me your arm

• • Well ?'

" • You are a workman; some one may

tell your employer that you have been seen with me, and it might injure you. Masters do not like misconduct in their workmen ;' and the goualeuse gently disengaged her arm from that of Rodolph, adding, 'go on, alone ; I will follow you to the Barrier ; once in the fields, I will return to your side.'

" • Do not be afraid,' said Rodolph, affected by this delicacy, and taking Fleur de Marie's arm within his own once more ; 'my employer does not live in this quarter, and besides, we shall find a hackney-coach on the Quai aux fleurs.'

" As you please, Monsieur Rodolph ; I said this only to eave you from vexation,'

“I believe, and thank you, Marie ; but, frankly, is it indifferent to you where we go ?"

“ • Yes, Monsieur Rodolph, quite in. different, so long as it is to the country; it is so fine, to the fresh air; it is so pleasant to breathe the fresh air. Do you know that it is now five months since I went farther than to the flower. market; and if the ogress permitted my passing the bounds of the city, it was on account of her great confidence.'

" • And when you came to this mar. ket, was it to buy flowers ?'

• Oh, no; I had no money ; it was to look at them- to breathe their sweet smell, during the half hour the ogress allowed me to stay there on market. day, I was so happy that forgot all beside.'

" • And when you returned to her to those horrid streets

" . Then I was sadder than when I set forth: I restrained my tears, not to be beaten. And in the flower-market, what made me envious, oh, very envious, was to see the little, neat work women going gaily home, with flower-pots in their hands.'

“I am sure that if you had but some flowers on your window-sill, they would be company to you.'

"That is true, indeed, Monsieur Ro. dolph. One day the ogress, at her fête, knowing my taste, gave me a little rosetree; if you could but guess how happy I was—I felt weariness no longer. I did nothing but gaze at the rose-tree; I amused myself with counting its leaves and blossoms; but the air of the city is so bad, that at the end of two days it had commenced to turn yellow, and then- but you will laugh at me, Monsieur Rodolph.'

" • No, no, go on.'

“ • Well, then, I asked permission of the ogress to go out to give my rosetree air, as I would have given it to a child. I carried it to the quay; I thought that to be there, with the other flowers, in that fresh sweet air would do it good. I bathed its poor fading leaves in the clear water of the fountain ; and to dry them I left it a quarter of an hour in the bright sun-dear little rose-tree. In the city it never saw the sun, for it shines no lower than the roofs in our street : at last, then, I carried it home again. Well, I assure you, Monsieur Rodolph, that thanks to these airings, my rose-tree lived, perhaps ten whole days longer than it would have done otherwise.'

"I do not doubt that you felt its loss when it died ?'

“It was a real grief ; I wept for it; and see, Monsieur Rodolph, since you can understand a love for Howers, I may tell you I felt something like gratitude towards it, because-because-but now, I am sure you will laugh at me.'


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“No, I will not; I am fond of minded creatures, rare under the most flowers; I comprehend any folly they favouring circumstances, till she dies

at eighteen, an abbess— We do not quar. " • Well, then, I was grateful to this rel with, on thu score of probability; poor rose-tree, which blossomed

for Monsieur Sue can never have aimed brightly for me, although in short-notwithstanding-all that I was-

at this quality. His iinprovement in And the goualeuse stooped her head,

the penal code, substituting blinding and blushed deep-red with shame.

for death, he seems, himself, to have " Unhappy child, with this conscious. abandoned. He has not written the ness of your horrible position, you must pamphlet, promised in a note to the often

scene wherein Rodolph exercises this " • Have wished to put an end to it, same kind of doubtful mercy. In the you mean, Monsieur Rodolph,' said the

letter which appears in the “ Debats," goualeuse, interrupting her companion ; as epilogue to the tale, he applauds oh yes, more than once I have looked

himself on the adoption of various down from the parapet on the Seine ; but afterwards I looked back at the flowers

plans of philanthropy, set forth in the and the sun, and I said to myself, the

course of these volumes. We rejoice river will always flow there; I am not

with him that this should be ; while, yet seventeen, who knows what may

for the sake of the weak and ignorant happen?'

of his own country, whom he may in. *. And when you said " who knows?" jure ; and the enlightened of other you had some hope?'

countries, whom he may prejudice un" • Yes.'

fairly; we believe he would do well to " • And of what?'

curb his invention, and seek his models “ • I cannot tell; I hoped, in spite of

elsewhere ; and present any idea or my reason. It seemed to me in these moments, that my fate was undeserved;

project he may think calculated to that there was something good in me.

serve humanity, without the dangerous I said, I have been tormented, but at framework which surrounds these, least I never did harm to any one. If I thinking, as we do, that the examinahad been advised, I should not, perhaps, tion of the many will stop there. have become what I am ; and this drove We have called the reign of the away my sadness a little. But, indeed,

feuilleton novel, a symptom of decline I should tell you that these thoughts in that branch of literature. The fa. visited me most, after the death of my cilities it affords mediocrity, are an rose-tree,' added the goualeuse, with a solemn look, which made Rodolph smile.

added bar to genius. The stomach, "• This heavy sorrow still.'

cloyed with unwholesome food, will here it is,' and she drew

sicken at delicate viands. It may be from her pocket a small parcel of twigs,

objected that an author will not change carefully cut, and tied with a pink rib- his nature with his place ; yet not only band.

must he fit the feuilleton, he must suit " • And you have preserved it ever it likewise. There must arise a stirsince ?'

ring interest, exactly at the close of " • Certainly, it is all I possess in the

such a column; and the tale is exeworld!' “ How, have you absolutely nothing

cuted, like a piece of worsted work, by belonging to you?

counting stitches; the meeting, or the " • Nothing!

parting, or the mystery, must not be a “ • This coral necklace ?--'

line too high. “ • Belongs to the ogress.'

We have never heard it asserted " Is it possible you do not possess a

that the feuilleton might make a great frill, a cap, a handkerchief ?'

writer, and it is evident it may mar “No, nothing, nothing--but the dry one. As to its criticism, it too much boughs of my poor rose-tree; it is for

resembles the duel fought in hot blood, this I cling to it.'”

on the instant of the offence-there

fore so likely to be fatal; and though Of the rest of the tale, or the mil. the serious pages of Philarete Chasles, lion tales which make the Mystères, and the witty ones of the writer who we want space to speak. That the signs “ Old Nick," and others we could goualeuse is discovered to be Rodolph's name, might render lenient, experience daughter-and that her delicacy of bas proved the use less certain than the feeling, uninjured by her former habits abuse. of life, she is shown as one of the pure

M. D. H.

•* • Yes, see,


We have been earnestly and repeat- of Ossory's speech was defectire, his edly urged, upon various occasions, to grace undertook to supply the defici. express an opinion, or to offer some ency from his own recollections. remarks, on the expediency of reviving In making the requisite emendations, ecclesiastical convocations or of in some it would seem as if the archbishop relied other form “ restoring to the church on his memory, and thought it unneher synodical powers. For a length cessary to make any reference to the of time we resisted the importunities learned prelate whose speech he reto take this task upon us, because we ported and replied to. A consequence were unwilling to afford encourage- followed which might have been, ment or countenance to a discussion reasonably, anticipated. The Bishop which we thought inconvenient and of Ossory felt constrained, by the unseasonable. Our scruples are now publication of a report not sufficiently removed ; the controversy which we exact, to re-state, in his own name, dreaded is already opened ; and the the substance of what was really his station, qualities, and abilities of the speech in the House of Lords, and to parties who have engaged in it, give add some comments on the reply made assurance that it will not be closed by the Archbishop of Dublin to his until the subject has had an ample supposed argument. discussion. This altered state of The prayer of the petition which things demands a corresponding change gave occasion to the parliamentary on our parts ; rendering it a duty from discussion, and thus, indirectly, to the which we cannot claim exemption, to controversy which has succeeded it, is lay before our readers arguments ad. as follows:vanced with the authority of high names, and requiring of us no longer “ Your petitioners, therefore, humbly to withhold expression froin our own pray that your lordships will be pleased less authoritative convictions.

to consider what measures should be In the last session of parliament his adopted for securing the efficiency of Grace the Lord Archbishop of Dublin

this church, so as the better to enable presented, in the House of Lords, a

her, in the existing circumstances of the petition from certain members of the

country, to carry forwarıl the great Church of England and Ireland, the

objects of her original institution." prayer of which was recommended by his grace and by the Lord Bishop of

The main object of the petition is, Salisbury; while it would appear that perhaps, best described in the followanother distinguished prelate, the Lord ing passage :Bishop of Ossory, offered a qualified opposition to it. The debate or dis- . Your petitioners are sincerely atcussion which took place on this occa

tached to the existing constitution of the sion, the Archbishop of Dublin thought

church of which they are members, and it advisable to reprint, in an appendix

are not making application for any spe

cific changes, but for the establishment to his charge to the Dublin clergy, de- of an «cclesiastical government, which livered in last June. And, inasmuch

shall have authority to determine what as the published report of the Bishop is, and what is not, binding on the mem

* A Charge to the Clergy of Dublin and Glandelagh, delivered in St. Patrick's Cathedral, June, 1843. By Richard Whately, D.D., Archbishop of Dublin. To which is appended a Petition to the House of Lords, praying for å Church Gorernment, together with the Report of the Debate on its presentation, and some addi. tional remarks. London: Fellowes, 1843.

The Expediency of Restoring at this time to the Church her Synodical Powers, considered, in Remarks upon The Appendix to the late Charge of his Grace the Archbishop of Dublin. By James Thomas O'Brien, D.D., Bishop of Ossory, Leighlin, and Ferns. London: Seeley and Co. 1843.


bers of this church, and to pronounce discharge of her sacred duties; and it respecting any changes which individuals

is assumed, that “for the attainment may have introduced, or may propose to of this, there is required the establishhave introduced.”

ment of some deliberatire ecclesiastical

The The ecclesiastical government con

body, having authority," &c.

convocation is fallen into desuetude ; templated is to have authority for de

the houses of parliament, as now contermining “what is and what is not

stituted, it is aftirmed, are peculiarly binding on the members of the church ;" and is also to pronounce

unfit to legislate for the church ; and

in this difficulty, one house of parrespecting changes contemplated, as

liament is prayed to consider what well as changes already introduced whether in doctrine, discipline, or

measures should be adopted for ren

dering the agency of the church more worship, or in all three, is not directly

efficient. In addressing a body pecu. stated.

liarly unfit to legislate for the church, The argument advanced in the petition for the erection and establish

and indeed unwilling to do so, it

would be, perhaps, desirable that the ment of this high authority, the peti

petitioners had been more definite in tioners have thus stated :

their prayer, and had proposed mea“ That the Church of England and

sures which they desired to Ireland, viewed as an important part of adopted, rather than tasked an inthe church of Christ, ought, as such, to

competent and unwilling body with enjoy the privilege permitted to other

the labour of devising them. The churches and religious bodies, of pos- petitioners are not of our opinion. sessing within herself,' such a power of They declare that “recent changes in regulation in her distinctly spiritual the constitution of the houses of paraffairs, as may best promote the due dis- liament have given rise to a peculiar charge of the sacred duties required of unfitness, and indeed unwillingness, her ministers, and provide for the reli

on their part, to be called on to exergious discipline of her own members. “ That, for the attainment of this,

cise authority in behalf of the church," there is required the establishment of

and then pray that a parliament thus some deliberative ecclesiastical body,

incapacitated and indisposed would be having authority to frame regulations,

pleased to " consider what measures and to decide in questions of doubt and

should be adopted for securing the difficulty, respecting all such matters. efficiency of the church.” Could this

“ That The Convocation,' sup- prayer be indulged without an exercise posing it adapted, not only to foriner

of authority? Perhaps,—but, how, times, but to all times, is fallen into

ever the question be answered, we desuetude; and that neither to revive that, nor to make any provision for sup

should have thought that the petiplying its place, is clearly at variance

tioners, had they waited until they with the design of our reformers.

knew what they wanted, and thus en“ That the two houses of parliament

abled themselves to propose a scheme were not originally designed, and were for adoption by the parliament, would never considered as adapted, to be the have acted with more wisdom and sole legislative authority for the church, consistency than they did when they in spiritual matters; and, that if they told the House of Lords, that it had ever had been so adapted, the recent neither the power nor the will to lechanges in the constitution of those

gislate in behalf of the church, and houses, admitting, without distinction,

described themselves as, therefore desito seats in the legislature, those who

rous that it should construct the sys. may, or may not be members of this church, have given rise to a peculiar

tem, or devise the measures by which unfitness, and indeed unwillingness on

ecclesiastical affairs should be thencetheir part, to be called on to exercise forth ordered throughout the empire. this authority in behalf of this church." We should have thought that a petition

concluding with such a prayer would The Church of England and Ire- have been more appropriately adland, as a branch of the church of dressed to the throne, where the inChrist, it is here affirmed, ought to terests of the church have a sure possess, within herself, such a power friend and protector, one who has of regulation in her distinctly spiritual contracted no obligation incompatible affairs, as may best promote the due with the duties of this sacred guar.

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