is
name, is, I believe, still living; the story of his having been executed
on his own machine, being pure poetry.

Passing by the Rue de Rivoli, I went to see an English lady of our
acquaintance, who resided in this quarter of the town. I found her
alone, uneasy, and firmly persuaded that another revolution had
commenced. She was an aristocrat by position, and though reasonably
liberal, anxious to maintain the present order of things, like all the
liberal aristocrats, who believe it to be the last stand against popular
sway. She has also friends and connexions about the person of the King,
and probably considered their fortunes as, in some measure, involved in
those of the court. We condoled with each other, as a matter of course;
she, because there was a revolution, and I, because the want of faith,
and the stupendous frauds, practised under the present system, rendered
it necessary.

It was near eleven o'clock before I quitted this part of the town. The
streets were nearly deserted, a patrol occasionally passing; but the
strangers were few, scarcely any having yet returned after their flight
from the cholera. The gates of the garden were closed, and I found
sentinels at the _guichets_ of the Carrousel, who prevented my return by
the usual route. Unwilling to make the _detour_ by the way I had come, I
proceeded by the Rue de Rivoli. As I was walking quite near to the
palace, in order to avoid some mud, I came suddenly on a _Garde
National_ who was placed behind a sentry-box _en faction_. I cannot
describe to you the furious scream with which this man cried "_Allez au
large_." If he took me for a body of bloody-minded republicans, rushing
forward to disarm him, I certainly thought he was some wild beast. The
man was evidently frightened, and just in a condition to take every bush
for an enemy. It is true the other party was rather actively employed in
disarming the different guards, but this fellow was within a hundred
feet of the Etat Major, and in no sort of danger. Notwithstanding the
presented bayonet, I am not quite certain he would not have dropped his
arms had I lifted my walking-stick, though one runs more hazard from a
robber, or a sentinel, who is frightened, than from one who is cool.
There was, however, no blood shed.

Finding the Carrousel closed to me, I passed into the Rue St. Honore,
which was also pretty well garnished with troops. A few truculent youths
were shouting a short distance ahead of me, b