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by a row with the men, which would give them the opportunity of winding up by breaking a few heads with their clubs. They were to catch hold of any one they pleased, and to climb and jump without restriction.

The matter was emphatically settled, when fine fun with them. This was to be followed some one hit on the happy suggestion that nothing would be more likely to amuse the King. He, poor man, was then in the enjoyment of a lucid interval, and therefore susceptible of the influences of merriment. extravagant frolic, by calling into play the full force of his powers of laughter, might serve to dispel the dark humours that constituted his melancholy, and so perhaps work in him a radical cure. The physicians backed this notion, and of course thenceforth there remained for the courtiers nothing but a rivalry of suggestion, and of proffered service.

The original hint was improved on by somebody else, who voted that the King himself should take part in the mummery, whatever it might be. This would not only benefit the King's health, and give éclat to the performance, but was an arrangement that might in the sequel prove highly convenient to all parties concerned. The royal complicity would cover all individual responsibility as to any assaults and batteries that might fall out in the high tide of merriment, and that might, per se, be voted a little too bad.

"And what," said the Queen, “shall our extravaganza be, and who will broach the subject to his majesty ?"

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"I," said the Sire de Guisay, am the man for your need. I have devised a masque, that, when you see it, will make you laugh till you cry; and the King will not say me nay when I ask him to join in auy revel."

A bad man was this Sire de Guisay, and despised by all the wisdom of the land, on account of his debaucheries and evil example. He was cruel and oppressive to his inferiors, that is, to the whole population of his native land, except his fellow courtiers. We are told that he delighted in bruising and beating with sticks and whips all who came within his power, treating them like dogs, and trampling them under foot with boot and spur. He would insult their lamentations, and bid them "howl away like dogs as they were.' Still he passed for a fine young gentleman, and was a great friend of the King's, and any proposition emanating from him would be likely to be followed. What he did propose was that the King and a certain number of the young lords should disguise themselves as wild men of the woods, and burst in suddenly on the assembled dancers. Everybody would fly from them, right and left; and in the space left vacant they might perform a ballet to be composed for them by the master of the revels. This would bring the ladies back; when they might jump in among them, and as savages, more especially as being irrecognisable, might have

The King took to the notion at once, reserving only one point. The Queen must be got out of the way; as of course her person was sacred, and the very cream of this jest was that hands were to be kept off no one. The Sire de Guisay applauded the royal sagacity, and further suggested that the Dukes of Burgundy and Berri, the uncles of the King, and the guardians of the realm, should be got out of the way also, as respectable marplots.

The King undertook that so it should be; and gave her majesty to understand that the plan which they were concocting for the forthcoming revel was such as to demand her absence at the moment of execution. She knew, of course, what was in agitation, and agreed to withdraw from the saloon at a preconcerted signal. less complaisant.

The two Dukes were not They took in good part their nephew's explanation; and in truth were not sorry to be spared participation in the boisterous orgies of the Hôtel de S. Paul. Perhaps they scarcely considered that this was to leave the King and his boon companions to riot without check!

The question of costume presented some difficulties. How were these wild men to be dressed? It would be awkward to make them up as Fauns and Satyrs, on account of the composite character of those creatures. They must play their part as bipeds, or the programme could not be carried out. Now, wild men of the woods could not be supposed to make elaborate toilettes, and yet, as his majesty observed, they must be clothed with something.

The Sire de Guisay took the dilemma by the horns. He devised a dress which should be complete as a covering, and in appearance come sufficiently near the rough hide of a wild beast, to pass muster by torchlight. It was much like what is worn by the figurantesin tableauxvivants—a tight investiture allowing free play to the limbs; with this fatal difference, that it was rendered highly inflammable. The wild men must be covered with hair. Accordingly, the tightly-fitting garments were to be covered with flax. This flax might have been secured by needle and thread, but they preferred agglutination to the surface. So the linen dresses were soaked in resin, and smeared with resin, and tufted all over with flax, till they were brought to a condition in which

ignition would be certain and inextinguishable, should a spark of fire fall upon them.

The maskers were six in number, including the King, and De Guisay. At the set time they attired themselves, and prepared to make their entry. One of them, Sir Evan de Foix, had some misgiving as to the dangerous nature of the frolic, and alone of the party seems to have had a glimmer of common sense. They were about to rush into a room full of lights, and being all chained together, -for in this fashion they were to be led by the King, as bear-ward, it would be impossible for any individual to bargain for what might happen.

"Sire," said Sir Evan, "it is undoubted that if one of us catch fire, the whole number will soon be as so many burnt chestnutsincluding your majesty."

The King looked blank for a moment: the idea was new, and he did not like it. Perhaps he might even then have altered the order of proceedings, but the fatality that eemed to mark De Guisay as an evil adviser was then culminating.

"Who is to set us on fire?" he asked. "Who will be such a traitor as not to be careful where the safety of the King is involved?" "At least," said Sir Evan, "let all precaution be taken. Let his majesty be pleased to give orders that no person with lights shall approach us. "That shall be at once done," said Charles; and instantly sending for the officer who had chief charge of the saloon, he gave instructions that all the torch-bearers should be collected together on one side of the room, and that none of them should on any pretence venture to approach a party of savage men who were about to enter and perform a dance.

But how do accidents occur all over the world, and throughout all times? How do men exclaim, "Who would have thought it?"

Who would have thought that just at that moment, when space had been cleared, and danger removed, the Duke of Orleans should make his appearance in the apartment? He was attended by six torches, which should, in obedience to orders, have been forbidden entrance. But it was a hard thing to dictate to the first prince of the blood. He could scarcely be included in any general order, so he was allowed to pass.

Then came the roar of acclamation. The general crowd had known that something was about to happen, and that in that something the King was concerned. When they saw the procession they were tumultuous in their delight. In came the King leading the chained band of savages, who symbolised the

trophies of his prowess. He led them round the room once or twice to salute the ladies, they amusing everybody the while with their tricks and gambades. Everybody was guesing at their names; everybody in high glee, and if the torches had been kept apart, all would no doubt have continued to go well.

The King, neglecting for a moment his assumed part, stopped with one of the groups of ladies. His aunt, the Duchess de Berri, was among them, and he amused himself with mystifying and tormenting her. On this slight thread depended his salvation; for the rest of the party passed on and left him isolated.

The Duke of Orleans had not been behind the scenes, and knew nothing of what was going on. Like everybody else he was immensely amused at the joke; and being a privileged person, drew near to see if he could identify the individuals. Unhappily his torchbearers followed him, and in the excitement of the moment were overlooked by the serjeantsat-arms, or allowed to pass as belonging to the Duke.

The Duke peered into their faces, trying to identify the individuals. Coming to Sir Evan de Foix, he shouted out his name, and seized him by the arm. Sir Evan struggled to escape. The Duke seized a torch from one of the bearers and held it close to the features of the un

fortunate youth. Some one jostled him at the moment, and the torch was brought into contact with the flax of his dress. In one moment Sir Evan was blazing from head to foot, and in a few seconds the whole company of maskers were involved in the flames. Being chained together, it seemed impossible that any of them could escape. Their frantic struggles served only to draw them more closely together, and mix them up more and more inextricably in one

mass.

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Happily the King was all this time detached from the party, amusing himself with the Duchess de Berri. When first the alarm was given he made as though he would have rushed to help his companions; but the duchess, pretty well guessing who he was, threw her arms round him, and forcibly withheld him. you not see," she said, "that your companions are perishing, and that nothing can save you if you go near them in that dress?" And then finding that it really was the King, she called those who forcibly removed him from the room, and made him change his dress, while a messenger was sent to the Queen to inform her that his majesty was safe.

But a horrible fear possessed the bystanders by whom this little episode had been unnoticed-that one of the writhing figures be

fore them was their King. In the first instant of alarm, Sir Evan had cried out "Save the King!" not being aware that his majesty had strayed away. Poor young man ! His providence and devotion seem meet for a gentler fate. He thought of his King's safety before his own; but unselfishness could not save him, and he perished.

So did they all except the Chevalier de Nantouillet. He, too, must have been burnt to death, had he not in the frenzy of his struggles succeeded in breaking his chain. With that exceptional presence of mind that a great crisis will evoke, he remembered having observed near the entry of the apart ments a large trough or tank in which the scullions were washing dishes. All a-blaze he rushed through the room, everybody making way for him, and threw himself into this water,

which was sufficient for a complete immersion This saved his life.

And of that gay party of revellers he was the sole survivor, except the King, who was considered to owe his preservation to a miracle. Surrounded by friends eager to assist, they perished for lack of assistance; because that was what no human power could afford. Two were consumed on the spot, and two lingered for a few days; but death was the result to all but Nantouillet.

And this was all because they were guilty of the folly of ignoring an actual liability-treating as croakers those who would remind them of danger: because, in short, they put on highly inflammable dresses, and ventured within range of circumstances where any carelessness with respect to fire was sure to be deadly.

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MARY CANAVAN.

It became part of my lot in life to help the Irish Government during the eventful period of the Irish Famine of 1846-7.

I was a Poor Law Inspector, and had a Jarge district in my charge. I had necessarily to go about a good deal and visit Workhouses, Hospitals, and Relief Stations in the discharge of my duties. My mode of conveyance as a rule was an outside Irish jaunting car, and, with one horse, or rather indeed with a pony, I used of a day sometimes to get over fifty long Irish miles.

I started one morning in the early spring from my head quarters to visit a station in a very remote and wild part of my district. My manservant, coachman, groom, butler, valet, all comprised in one very original and funny individual called "Mick,"-accompanying me. The night before I left on this particular journey, in which occurred an incident which I am about to relate, I told Mick to be sure to stock the "well" of the car with rye bread, which I used to bake in my own house, and above all not to forget to fill my flask with brandy, which, as we shall presently see, was not altogether used for selfish purposes. Many a time when I have been driving along the wild roads, I have seen people who, to my official knowledge were in the receipt of the full amount of ration relief, literally looking starved. The avidity with which they seized and devoured the loaves of rye bread I used to give them from the "well," satisfied me that the money which was sent to us Poor Law Inspectors from all parts of the United Kingdom to expend in any way we thought fit, and which for the most part we applied to the establishment of bakehouses, did all the good which it was intended to do, and even more than the generous donors could have anticipated.

I scarcely think I was ever out on a more lovely day than that to which I allude, and if one could only have felt that the people were not dying in hundreds throughout the district, and through the island generally, such a day amidst such scenery, would have brought its fullest enjoyment.

Skirting along lovely lakes, above which rose bills clad with vernal beauty, I drove some ten miles, and then turned off by a mountain road which led by a long descent to a wild and barren bog, stretching unbrokenly for many miles towards the sea coast. As we got on the bog, there was an indication that there had been a turf road, but gradually its traces became more and more indistinct, and we had to make the best of our way across the "blasted heath." At last we came to a road

again, and I was enabled to shape my course for the relief station, which I was about to inspect.

The path, or road, or whatever else one might chose to call it, was straight, and so there was nothing to interrupt the view right before us.

Mick, who was never much inclined to wrap himself up in himself, and had been discoursing eloquently on the value of good sound roads, giving me his private opinion as to the character of that on which we were then travelling, suddenly called out,

“What on earth, sir, is that before us?" "Where?" said I.

"Don't you see, sir? The Lord save us !a body stretched across the road."

On looking before me, at about a hundred yards' distance, I saw that to which Mick directed my attention.

"Yes," said I, "no doubt it is some poor creature who has died on the way to the station at but we shall soon know."

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On coming up we found it was the corpse of a woman apparently about forty years of age.

Accustomed as I was to see the effects of famine, I was horrified at the ghastly appearance which she presented. Her face was literally so attenuated that I could see all its venous and arterial anatomy as well as if the skin had been removed.

While looking at this horrid sight, it seemed to me that she could not have been very long dead. I could see no habitation for miles around. "Possibly," I said, "life is not quite extinct," and, recollecting the little smattering of doctoring which I learned in early life, I thought it worth while to see what effect a stimulant might have.

"Bring me my brandy flask at once, Mick," said I, "and help me to raise her head."

"For what, sir?" said he "Bedad, it would take more than your honour could do, to bring her back again."

"Well," I added, "do what I tell you, Mick, and let us hope for the best."

We lifted the body and placed it against a little hillock which was quite close to where we found the woman, and I at once proceeded to open her mouth, a proceeding attended with considerable difficulty. Holding her head back I managed to pour nearly half the contents of my flask (a pretty large one, by the way) down her throat, when suddenly I felt a sort of convulsion at the back of her neck which rested on my hand. This convulsion was to my great delight speedily followed by a faint hiccup, and I at once made up my mind that if I only persevered, I might have

the intense satisfaction of restoring a fellow and the severity of the famine was mitigated creature to life. by the abundance of food which came into the country. The people began to look better, and every one was in better spirits.

Mick and I then set to work, and taking the cushions of the car we stretched our poor patient in a recumbent position. We then commenced to rub the extremities, which were like ice, and with a good will we rubbed and rubbed until we were rewarded by seeing the head move, the lips twitch, and various other indications of returning vitality. But to succeed must be a work of some time, and here we were nearly fifteen miles away from the station. We worked on, however, for a little time longer, and I then determined to get as fast as I could to my destination. We placed her on the car in a sitting position, and started for.

We had not gone more than four or five hundred yards when we encountered a most abominable stench, which was so sickly, that I determined to stop and ascertain what it was. Looking to the right our attention was directed to a thin column of bluish smoke, which came out of the bog. Walking over to the place from whence the smoke issued, and scarcely able to breathe from the offensive odour, which became worse and worse, I found to my horror that the smoke was from a human habitation, if such it could be called, an old gravel pit, in which I very soon found the cause of the stench. Here were laying two bodies in an advanced stage of decomposition, an old man and woman. I shudder now when I think of

the sight I saw. It was horrible beyond description. It occurred to me at once that the woman we found on the road had crept out of this hovel on seeing the car coming across the bog, and had sunk in the lifeless state of exhaustion in which we found her.

And so it turned out to be when I made subsequent inquiry.

We now resumed our journey, and at last arrived at the station, where I lost no time in getting medical relief for my poor patient, and in sending to the gravel pit to have the bodies removed and buried.'

The next day I returned to head-quarters, and from time to time afterwards had letters from the doctor reporting to me that the woman very speedily recovered, and out of moneys placed at my disposal for charitable purposes I was enabled to contribute to her comfort in the shape of clothing.

A couple of months or more passed away,

My visits to the remoter stations of my district were necessarily fewer, for I had important duties to discharge at the town in which I lived, and where the union workhouse was situated. They were now principally directed to the prevention of abuse in the administration of relief. Though the distress was still great, yet it was an undoubted fact within the experience of all those engaged in the Poor Law service, that abuses crept in to a very large extent, and it was no easy matter to control them.

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On another lovely morning, now far advanced in the summer, I again started for the station near which occurred the incident which I have endeavoured to tell. As I passed by the spot where our progress on the road was arrested by the body of the poor woman, Mick said

“Ah, your honour, glory be to God and thanks to you, do you recollect the crayture we saw here ?"

"Yes, Mick," said I, "and I hope we shall never see such a sight again.'

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Amen, sir," said he, giving the pony a gentle reminder that he was to get along as quickly as he could. We drove on for a couple

of miles, when we met a group of the peasantry of the district going to the relief station for their rations of Indian meal stirabout.

I stopped to make some inquiries, when suddenly I felt my knees embraced, and I saw a girl about eighteen years of age kissing my feet. "What do you want, my good girl?" said I. "Ah! your honour," said she, looking at me with an expression I can never forget, "don't you recollect Mary Canavan ?”

Mary Canavan! surely you cannot be the woman I

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"Ah! yes, sir," she cried.

And there she was, the shrivelled hag of forty transformed into a girl of eighteen, and all by the simple administration of wholesome food for a few weeks.

To those who saw scenes such as I did, this will not appear strange. But even now, at this lapse of time, when the great famine of Ireland with all its horrible circumstances is well-nigh forgotten, I venture to tell this story about poor Mary Canavan.

END OF VOLUME THE ELEVENTH.

EPADBURY AND EVANS, FRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS, LONDON.

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