credit of all past and existing governments, as well as the future of England. Is there no Hercules to cleanse the Augean stable of redtapism?-no intellect capable of sifting the question as to how much of the money paid in by the nation goes to the purposes for which it is voted, and how much goes astray? The resources of nations just emerging from barbarism, as Russia and Turkey, are proverbially wasted by the peculation of officials; our system seems not only no better, but worse, when nearly all the moneys voted for a particular object are exhausted by a kind of general, incomprehensible, diffusion and draining. France, the naval peer affirms, in concurrence with Sir Charles Wood and Sir Charles Napier,* has secured a far larger supply of seamen for her fleet, and has superior facilities for equipping her naval forces upon a sudden emergency. To oppose her, or any other enemy at sea, we have but our blockships and our aggregate of liners, scattered over all the waters of the globe.

It is worth mentioning here, that about the time when an English minister was making his statement of our invulnerability, a French naval officer was upon a mission to this country, which brought him into contact with an English officer peculiarly and officially conversant with our maritime population. The Frenchman, referring to the immense number of our merchant seamen, observed that in practice they were not, as in France, available for manning our ships of war. This was admitted by the British officer, who qualified the admission by saying, that although we could not get men at the beginning of a war, yet we should after a time; and that of course it would always be our policy to prevent any other power obtaining command of the Channel.' Obtaining command of the Channel!" said the French officer; "France could do so at any time, under her present arrangements, or rather, has command of the Channel at this moment."

Is so disheartening and so disgraceful a view of the subject upheld by the facts of the case? In efficient ships France nearly equals us, our force being (of the line) forty-two to their forty. She, as before said, greatly surpasses us in the power of manning these ships for any sudden emergency, and she possesses, in Sir Charles Wood's words, "infinitely greater facilities" for equipping her ships. The yard at Cherbourg is as large as Portsmouth, Devonport, and Keyham put together; the French have one hundred and thirty acres in all their yards to our thirtyfour acres, and they can not only bring their vessels nearer to their quays, but, from the depth of water at the entrance of their docks, ships can be taken in at all times of high water, while in Portsmouth and Plymouth we are obliged to wait for spring tides!

This is, most assuredly, not a very consolatory state of things. It is in vain that the self-satisfied Briton hugs himself upon his oft-sung "Jack-tar," his "walls of oak," his "never, never will be slaves," his Blake, Rodney, Howe, St. Vincent, and Nelson, and all his other now traditional glories; times are changed. "What would Napoleon I., who proposed to carry 120,000 soldiers across the Straits in row-boats, have given for steam power ?" And has not Napoleon III., whose recognised mission it is to avenge Waterloo, got that which his predecessor so yearned for, with which to avenge six ages of shame and insult"-the

* Sir Charles Napier has been taunted with cowardice for exposing the nakedness of the land. So true it is that if ignorance is bliss it is folly to be wise.

VOL. XLVI.

H

means to cross, if not to command, the Channel? Whosoever lulls suspicions, and stays the clamorous demand for timely preparations in such a case, is no true lover of his country.

And yet what is the outcry of the great mass of dissentients, such as there always will be in every country where there is perfect freedom of opinion. Why, they cannot deny the facts, or the state of things; but after prattling about the virtues of the British seaman, which nobody denies (if they could be got together), they declaim against arousing the vengeance which they deprecate. Thus unprotected, they say we are incessantly chafing, goading, and challenging the continental powers, particularly France, which the British press has marked for ignominy, insult, and vituperation. We must change this line of conduct, be good boys, smile, bow, congratulate, extol, and fawn upon the enemy. We doubt if the line of conduct thus advocated, laying aside its want of honesty and candour, would be even politic. Who ever saw a little boy truckle to a big bully, who got better treatment by such an act of pusillanimity? Barbarians infallibly mistake humility for cowardice. What better should we, as a nation, have to expect, if, admitting that we have permitted a neighbour to outvie us in power, even on what is traditionally considered as our own element, we are not to lift our voice in favour of new and unprecedented exertions, to call upon our fellow-countrymen for great sacrifices, and to speak the truth with regard to the danger that threatens us and the means that happily still remain to us to avert it? Shame upon the recreants who would thus gag and stultify us. "Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.” There are no necessities as yet for either raging or warring, but the time may come when it may be necessary either to defend ourselves or our possessions, or to take a part in the liberation of the world. What if the humiliation of Great Britain is a foregone conclusion, an accepted portion of a mission, as before suggested-what, then, of all the chafing and goading of covert enemies? It is as the rustle of the breeze that precedes and dies away before the dark impending storm. The sheep crouch behind the bank or hedge, but the shepherd piles the furze and stack, and shields himself and flock. The generality of men, in their praiseworthy but humble confidence, place implicit faith in their guardians-they are taught to reverence and respect them; but those who are in authority should not, by exposing the nation to a vast calamity, put themselves in that position which would deprive them of all possible claims to either.

The policy of the existing ministry is what is designated as an unswerving loyalty to the Anglo-French alliance. This, it is to be observed, to be accompanied by an incessant watch over French proceedings, whether in the south of Europe or in the Channel. A ministry of mongrel elements may well be felicitated upon such an impossible policy: a professed alliance united to a secret distrust-open friendship and covert hostility-professions of cordiality and esteem-real apprehensions, doubt, perplexity, and weakness! This is the acme of the policy of fear, the apotheosis of national humiliation. We sacrifice our old and ancient allies, our allies by blood and policy, for our traditional enemy, and we are not sure even of his neutrality, still less of his friendship. The bargain is scarcely a fair one. The Germanic system, as it is called, is

no longer to be upheld, but what is to be exchanged for it-truckling to a despot whom we despise and dread. Alas, for the shades of Pitt, of Nelson, and Wellington! The day must soon come when the miserable weakness and imbecility of such a policy will be exposed, and the whole system blown to the winds, if it is not-as seems most likely—a political sop held out to a party, to win over their adhesion to a temporary tenure of place, but to be abandoned the moment the force of circumstances will supply an excuse for an act of tergiversation. In the mean time, a new movement, by which to cover an advance or shield a defeat, is never wanting to the practised politician. The new ministry are said to take their stand upon a few sentences uttered by the emperor to the Italians on his arrival in the capital of Lombardy. He has no plan, he says, of dispossessing sovereigns nor of imposing on the Italians his own will. He will place no obstacle in the way of a free manifestation of their legitimate wishes. This proclamation, we are told, is to be made the basis of intercourse between the new ministry and France and Austria, and they have every hope of localising the war and achieving the peace of Europe. Let us hope that success may attend their efforts. But has the emperor never yet falsified his promises? What is the meaning of "legitimate wishes?" The desire of independence so long expressed is to be realised "if" the Italians "show themselves worthy of it." But, above all, they must begin by placing themselves under the flag of King Victor Emmanuel. If it is in the nature of things to expect the establishment of liberal institutions by the dictator of a grinding despotism which tolerates no revelation of opinion, which jealously represses the growth of intelligence, and which rewards patriotism with a dungeon or servitude in a penal settlement, we may expect the establishment of liberal institutions in Italy by a Napoleon backed by an English Whig-Radical ministry; and if it is in the nature of things to expect nothing but disinterestedness and self-sacrifice in two great and notoriously ambitious powers like France and Russia, avowedly now, on the best understanding, yet seeking only the liberation of the Italians, then we shall yet have peace, and a glory greater than that which ever fell to the share of any combatant will fall to those who upheld their honour and integrity in the hour of triumph. We can only say, that while we ardently sigh for so desirable a solution of the present position, we have little faith in the likelihood of its occurrence.

GURNEY; OR, TWO FORTUNES.

A STORY OF OUR OWN TIME.

BY DUDLEY COSTELLO.

CHAPTER I.

LE COQ D'OR.

COMMOTION was in the land. A dynasty had been expelled, and once more, after changes innumerable, all the old landmarks were removed, and in the fulness of expectation men prepared themselves for something better, though in what the remedy for the past was to be found few ventured to predict.

Of experience, if that counted for anything, there had been enough, and more than enough; but the people to whom it had been taught recked little of experience. Novelty, an inherent restlessness, and the belief that they, at least, were wiser than all the generations that had gone before them, made even the worst welcome; though, in the estimation of this people, the worst had no place, all seeming good that brought the fulfilment of their momentary desires.

France was the scene of the change thus spoken of, and her latest revolution the event which had called forth this expectation, and at the period when the revolution happened there lived at Amiens an innkeeper named Jean Lalouette. He was the landlord of the Hôtel du Coq d'Or, and within the last few months had also become its proprietor, a tolerably thriving business having enabled him to put by money enough to purchase it.

The Coq d'Or was not a very large hotel, neither were its approaches the most attractive in the world, for it stood at the corner of a very narrow and somewhat dirty street, which went, and still goes, by the appellation of the Rue des Tripes; but the house was well known to travellers, it was not far from the cathedral, whither all travellers resorted, and though the entrance-over which, resplendent with gold, appeared the vera effigies of a very warlike cock-was in the Rue des Tripes, the principal windows looked out on the Marché aux Herbes, the largest market-place in the city. Its situation was, therefore, a lively one, and whoever knows anything of the French will at once agree that, in their eyes, it could have had no greater recommendation.

The local condition of the Coq d'Or corresponded with the disposition of its proprietor. His humour was emphatically gai, such as no trouble could long depress, if even he were for a moment affected. Like the valiant bird whose name he bore-a bird looked upon as the type of the frank and joyous Gaul-Jean Lalouette's cheerful notes began with daybreak, nor stinted while there was light. To this gaiety of temper might be added something of the pugnacity of the fowl which was at the same time the national emblem and his own particular sign, so that, in an

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ornithological point of view-and it is as characteristic as any otherJean Lalouette might be considered "vrai Français et de bon aloi," a true and genuine Frenchman.

As a matter of course, Jean Lalouette had married early-he was now five-and-forty-and the placens uxor, fully meriting the title, was still by his side. Three children-the ordinary complement of a French family-were the fruits of this marriage, two of them boys, and the third-not to excite an Irishman's surprise-a girl! Pierre, the eldest, with the qualities described in his father greatly in excess, was a soldier on service in Algeria; Louis, the second, of a more domestic turn, was preparing one day to succeed to the management of the Coq d'Or, had the care of the stable, and drove the patache when that vehicle was put in requisition; and Marie, the youngest, was a very pretty girl, nearly if not quite of a marriageable age, and certainly of opinion that she belonged to the last category, as every pretty girl must think who has an acknowledged lover.

It has been intimated that Jean Lalouette was prosperous. He began life as a simple garçon d'écurie on the estate of a country gentleman near Gournay, a small town on the confines of Normandy, some twelve or fourteen leagues from Amiens; was taken, an orphan, into the château while yet a lad, and employed in household service; and on the death of Monsieur Gournay, his only son Bernard being then in Italy, was sent, at eighteen, to seek his fortunes in the ancient capital of Picardy. Not unprotected, however, for he was consigned to a tenant of young Monsieur de Gournay, the heir, who had some property in Amiens, one of his houses being the inn of which Jean Lalouette subsequently became the owner. For three years he devoted himself unremittingly to the duties of his new calling, acquired so much knowledge of the business, was so useful in the establishment, so necessary to Monsieur Filliot, the landlord, and so agreeable to his daughter Justine, that, at the expiration of the period mentioned, he was rewarded with the damsel's hand, a wedding portion of three thousand francs, and the promised reversion of the sovereignty of the Golden Cock.

Two years after the marriage of Jean Lalouette, Monsieur Filliot was borne to the cemetery of La Madeleine, where a handsome monument, with its sculptured owl, its hour-glass, and its burning torch reversed, attested the skill of the local artist and the filial piety of the successors to all his worldly goods. The funeral over, Jean Lalouette dried his eyes, and recovered the gaiety which had been slightly compromised during the mournful ceremony, and from that time forward until the opening of the present history-save upon one occasion-none of his neighbours could say they had ever seen a cloud upon his brow.

The solitary occasion of Jean Lalouette's sadness was that of all others when he might have been expected to appear the most merry-the day on which the Coq d'Or became his own. And more than usually merry he, doubtless, would have been, but for the circumstances under which the hotel was acquired.

Monsieur Bernard de Gournay had married while in Italy-a short time after his father's death-a beautiful Venetian lady. Fortune she had none, but that signified nothing to her lover, who succeeded to a fair inheritance. Not equal, it is true, to what it might have been had the