his boots are drawn off with
great ceremony, to be preserved in the hall of justice. Their place is
immediately supplied by a new pair, which, in their turn, are drawn off to
make room for others before he has worn them five minutes, it being
considered sufficient to consecrate them that he should have merely drawn
them on.

Among the most favourite relics of modern times, in Europe, are
Shakspeare's mulberry-tree, Napoleon's willow, and the table at Waterloo
on which the emperor wrote his despatches. Snuff-boxes of Shakspeare's
mulberry-tree are comparatively rare, though there are doubtless more of
them in the market than were ever made of the wood planted by the great
bard. Many a piece of alien wood passes under this name. The same may be
said of Napoleon's table at Waterloo. The original has long since been
destroyed, and a round dozen of counterfeits along with it. Many preserve
the simple stick of wood; others have them cut into brooches and every
variety of ornament; but by far the greater number prefer them as
snuff-boxes. In France they are made into _bonbonnieres_, and are much
esteemed by the many thousands whose cheeks still glow and whose eyes
still sparkle at the name of Napoleon.

Bullets from the field of Waterloo, and buttons from the coats of the
soldiers who fell in the fight, are still favourite relics in Europe. But
the same ingenuity which found new tables after the old one was destroyed,
has cast new bullets for the curious. Many a one who thinks himself the
possessor of a bullet which aided in giving peace to the world on that
memorable day, is the owner of a dump, first extracted from the ore a
dozen years afterwards. Let all lovers of genuine relics look well to
their money before they part with it to the ciceroni that swarm in the
village of Waterloo!

Few travellers stopped at the lonely isle of St. Helena without cutting a
twig from the willow that drooped over the grave of Napoleon, prior to the
removal of the body by the government of Louis Philippe. Many of them have
since been planted in different parts of Europe, and have grown into trees
as large as their parent. Relic-hunters, who are unable to procure a twig
of the original, are content with one from these. Several of them are
growing in the neighbourhood of London.

But in relics, as in every thing else, there is the use and the abuse. The
undoubted relics of great men, or great events, will always possess
attractions for the