condition are concerned, the prince and the plebeian,
the emperor and the exile, have often found themselves for a time on the
same level.

The wheel of fortune, in its revolutions, generally produces changes of
two descriptions, either exalting the lowly or pulling down the great.
In rarer instances, not satisfied with giving the individual a single
turn, it grants him the benefit of a more varied experience. It carries
the country-boy to wealth and power, and then transports him back to his
native fields, whose pure air is not less wholesome, after all, than the
heated atmosphere of the ball-room or caucus-chamber; or it may roll the
wave of revolution over a kingdom, banishing the prince to wander an
exile, perhaps a schoolmaster, in distant lands, to contend with poverty
or duns, and then, on its receding tide, landing him once more safely on
his throne. Frequent revolutions have, however, taught princes wisdom in
this respect. Most of them now seem to be well provided for in foreign
countries, beyond the reach of contingencies in their own, and if time
is given them to escape with their lives, it is generally found that
they have 'laid up treasure' where at any rate the thieves of the new
dynasty can not 'break through and steal.' A very recent instance is
afforded us by his majesty Faustin I., who, notwithstanding his
confidence in the affection of his subjects, seems to have preferred
taking the Bank of England as collateral security.

The first French Revolution probably affords as striking examples of
change in worldly condition as any other period, and among those whom it
affected for the time, few were more remarkable than two persons whom it
sent to our own shores, Talleyrand and Chateaubriand. During the
residence of the former in Philadelphia, he appears at one time to have
been in the most abject poverty. We read of his pawning a watch and
smaller articles, to provide himself and his companion with food; any
care for their wardrobes, beyond the faded garments they were then
wearing, being apparently out of the question. If one who then met the
needy foreigner walking the wide streets of that respectable city, had
predicted that in a few years this shabby Frenchman would be looked up
to as the leader of the diplomacy of Europe, he might with perfect
justice have been regarded as a fit subject for one of that city's
excellent asylums. But a few years did witness this change, and saw him
powerful and the p