ound the carriages as an escort, and at a
quick trot swept along the banks of the Seine by the Quai de Billi,
and escaped from Paris. That night they reached Dreux, one of the
country-seats of the king.

Their peril still was great. The small escort at their disposal was
by no means sufficient to protect them, should there be any uprising
of the people to arrest their progress. It was, therefore, deemed
best to dismiss their guard, and proceed to the sea-coast in
disguise, by unfrequented routes, as simple travellers. They were,
however, in great want of money. The king, in the confusion of his
departure, had left seventy thousand dollars in banknotes upon his
bureau. He had but a small supply in his pocket.

Resuming their journey the next morning, they reached Evreux, and
were entertained for the night by a farmer in the royal forest, who
had no idea of the distinguished character of the guests to whose
wants he was ministering. Early in the morning of the third day they
set out again in a rude cart, called a Berlin, drawn by two
cart-horses. They had many strange adventures and narrow escapes,
even performing a portion of their journey on foot. At length they
reached the sea-coast at Honfleur, near the mouth of the Seine, on
the southern bank. Here they embarked, still under the assumed name
of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, for Havre, from which port they crossed over
to New Haven, on the southern coast of England, leaving behind them
their crown and their country forever. They reached this land of
refuge for dethroned kings on the 4th of March, and took up their
abode at Claremont, formerly the residence, and perhaps then the
property of their son-in-law, Leopold, king of Belgium.

[Illustration: LOUIS PHILLIPE LEAVING FRANCE.]

And now let us return to the Princess Helen, who was left with her
two children in one of the apartments of the palace. Immediately upon
the withdrawal of the king, the troops in the Carrousel, who were
then retreating into the court-yard of the Tuileries, retired through
the palace into the garden. The princess, a very heroic woman, had
entirely recovered her self-possession, and awaited her doom with the
serenity of a martyr. As the shouting mob rushed into the Carrousel,
and the windows of the palace were rattling from the explosions of
the artillery, M. Dupin, president of the Chamber of Deputies,
entered the room, and, much agitated with both fear and hope,
said,

"Madame, I have come to t