ortune, or
suspects that he has not much cash remaining, some rouleaux of napoleons
d'or are placed on the table of his dressing-room, which he may use or
leave untouched, as he judges proper.

The hours of Joseph Bonaparte are neither so late as yours in England,
nor so early as they were formerly in France. Breakfast is ready served
at ten o'clock, dinner at four, and supper at nine. Before midnight he
retires to bed with his family, but visitors do as they like and follow
their own usual hours, and their servants are obliged to wait for them.

When any business calls Joseph away, either to preside in the Senate
here, or to travel in the provinces, he notifies the visitors, telling
them at the same time not to displace themselves on account of his
absence, but wait till his return, as they would not observe any
difference in the economy of his house, of which Madame Joseph always
does the honours, or, in her absence, some lady appointed by her.

Last year, when Joseph first assumed a military rank, he passed nearly
four months with the army of England on the coast or in Brabant. On his
return, all his visitors were gone, except a young poet of the name of
Montaigne, who does not want genius, but who is rather too fond of the
bottle. Joseph is considered the best gourmet or connoisseur in liquors
and wines of this capital, and Montaigne found his Champagne and burgundy
so excellent that he never once went to bed that he was not heartily
intoxicated. But the best of the story is that he employed his mornings
in composing a poem holding out to abhorrence the disgusting vice of
drunkenness, and presented it to Joseph, requesting permission to
dedicate it to him when published. To those who have read it, or only
seen extracts from it, the compilation appears far from being
contemptible, but Joseph still keeps the copy, though he has made the
author a present of one hundred napoleons d'or, and procured him a place
of an amanuensis in the chancellory of the Senate, having resolved never
to accept any dedication, but wishing also not to hurt the feelings of
the author by a refusal.

In a chateau where so many visitors of licentious and depraved morals
meet, of both sexes, and where such an unlimited liberty reigns,
intrigues must occur, and have of course not seldom furnished materials
for the scandalous chronicle. Even Madame Joseph herself has either been
gallant or calumniated. Report says that to the nocturnal