nce to his Majesty. It was accepted: and the Plush Guard
has been established in place of the Swiss, who waited on former
sovereigns."

"The Irish Brigade quartered in the Tuileries are to enter our service.
Their commander states that they took every one of the forts round
Paris, and having blown them up, were proceeding to release Louis
XVII., when they found that august monarch, happily, free. News of their
glorious victory has been conveyed to Dublin, to his Majesty the King of
the Irish. It will be a new laurel to add to his green crown!"

And thus have we brought to a conclusion our history of the great
French Revolution of 1884. It records the actions of great and various
characters; the deeds of various valor; it narrates wonderful reverses
of fortune; it affords the moralist scope for his philosophy; perhaps it
gives amusement to the merely idle reader. Nor must the latter imagine,
because there is not a precise moral affixed to the story, that its
tendency is otherwise than good. He is a poor reader, for whom
his author is obliged to supply a moral application. It is well in
spelling-books and for children; it is needless for the reflecting
spirit. The drama of Punch himself is not moral: but that drama has had
audiences all over the world. Happy he, who in our dark times can cause
a smile! Let us laugh then, and gladden in the sunshine, though it be
but as the ray upon the pool, that flickers only over the cold black
depths below!

COX'S DIARY.

THE ANNOUNCEMENT.

On the 1st of January, 1838, I was the master of a lovely shop in the
neighborhood of Oxford Market; of a wife, Mrs. Cox; of a business, both
in the shaving and cutting line, established three-and-thirty years; of
a girl and boy respectively of the ages of eighteen and thirteen; of
a three-windowed front, both to my first and second pair; of a young
foreman, my present partner, Mr. Orlando Crump; and of that celebrated
mixture for the human hair, invented by my late uncle, and called
Cox's Bohemian Balsam of Tokay, sold in pots at two-and-three and
three-and-nine. The balsam, the lodgings, and the old-established
cutting and shaving business brought me in a pretty genteel income. I
had my girl, Jemimarann, at Hackney, to school; my dear boy, Tuggeridge,
plaited her hair beautifully; my wife at the counter (behind the tray of
patent soaps, &c.) cut as handsome a figure as possible; and it was my
hope that Orlando and my girl, who we