of spies, even to this extent,
is in the highest degree unpopular in England; but a political spy by
profession is a creature from which our island is as free as it is from
wolves. In France the race is well known, and was never more numerous,
more greedy, more cunning, or more savage, than under the government of
Bonaparte.

Our idea of a gentleman in relations with the Consular and Imperial
police may perhaps be incorrect. Such as it is, we will try to convey it
to our readers. We image to ourselves a well-dressed person, with a soft
voice and affable manners. His opinions are those of the society in
which he finds himself, but a little stronger. He often complains, in
the language of honest indignation, that what passes in private
conversation finds its way strangely to the government, and cautions his
associates to take care what they say when they are not sure of their
company. As for himself, he owns that he is indiscreet. He can never
refrain from speaking his mind; and that is the reason that he is not
prefect of a department.

In a gallery of the Palais Royal he overhears two friends talking
earnestly about the king and the Count of Artois. He follows them into a
coffee-house, sits at the table next to them, calls for his half-dish
and his small glass of cognac, takes up a journal, and seems occupied
with the news. His neighbors go on talking without restraint, and in the
style of persons warmly attached to the exiled family. They depart; and
he follows them half round the boulevards till he fairly tracks them to
their apartments, and learns their names from the porters. From that day
every letter addressed to either of them is sent from the post office to
the police, and opened. Their correspondents become known to the
government, and are carefully watched. Six or eight honest families, in
different parts of France, find themselves at once under the frown of
power without being able to guess what offence they have given. One
person is dismissed from a public office; another learns with dismay
that his promising son has been turned out of the Polytechnic School.

Next, the indefatigable servant of the state falls in with an old
republican, who has not changed with the times, who regrets the red cap
and the tree of liberty, who has not unlearned the Thee and Thou, and
who still subscribes his letters with "Health and Fraternity." Into the
ears of this sturdy politician our friend pours forth a long series of