had a perception of
humour, and were laughing a little, far down in his inner man. Camille
is wittier than ever, and more outspoken, cynical; yet sunny as ever. A
light melodious creature; 'born,' as he shall yet say with bitter tears,
'to write verses;' light Apollo, so clear, soft-lucent, in this war of
the Titans, wherein he shall not conquer!

Folded and hawked Newspapers exist in all countries; but, in such a
Journalistic element as this of France, other and stranger sorts are
to be anticipated. What says the English reader to a Journal-Affiche,
Placard Journal; legible to him that has no halfpenny; in bright
prismatic colours, calling the eye from afar? Such, in the coming
months, as Patriot Associations, public and private, advance, and can
subscribe funds, shall plenteously hang themselves out: leaves, limed
leaves, to catch what they can! The very Government shall have its
Pasted Journal; Louvet, busy yet with a new 'charming romance,' shall
write Sentinelles, and post them with effect; nay Bertrand de
Moleville, in his extremity, shall still more cunningly try it. (See
Bertrand-Moleville: Memoires, ii. 100, &c.) Great is Journalism. Is not
every Able Editor a Ruler of the World, being a persuader of it; though
self-elected, yet sanctioned, by the sale of his Numbers? Whom indeed
the world has the readiest method of deposing, should need be: that of
merely doing nothing to him; which ends in starvation!

Nor esteem it small what those Bill-stickers had to do in Paris: above
Three Score of them: all with their crosspoles, haversacks, pastepots;
nay with leaden badges, for the Municipality licenses them. A Sacred
College, properly of World-rulers' Heralds, though not respected as
such, in an Era still incipient and raw. They made the walls of Paris
didactic, suasive, with an ever fresh Periodical Literature, wherein
he that ran might read: Placard Journals, Placard Lampoons,
Municipal Ordinances, Royal Proclamations; the whole other or vulgar
Placard-department super-added,--or omitted from contempt! What
unutterable things the stone-walls spoke, during these five years! But
it is all gone; To-day swallowing Yesterday, and then being in its
turn swallowed of To-morrow, even as Speech ever is. Nay what, O thou
immortal Man of Letters, is Writing itself but Speech conserved for a
time? The Placard Journal conserved it for one day; some Books conserve
it for the matter of ten years; nay some for three thousand: bu