tenance of civilised Europe. And the latter was an act of illegal murder, -as bad as that committed by the hand of the assassin at the hotel,—— which all men must loathe, whether committed by Pole or Russian.

The story of the destruction and pillage of Count Zamoyski's palace has been told in different ways and in various public papers; as yet, however, it has never been correctly told. It occurred simply as follows: General de Berg was driving past what is generally termed the Zamoyski palace, when from a window was thrown one or more combustible missiles, a portion of which, it appears, rent a hole in the general's greatcoat, and slightly wounded two among the Cossacks who formed his escort; on which the gallant general-whose position in the very heart of what may be termed a revolted city, I admit, was not a pleasant one-utterly lost his head-at least civilised Europe would fain believe soand, instead of despatching a Cossack or an aide-de-camp for troops, surrounding the house, and endeavouring to find the guilty person or persons, gave up the whole palace to pillage, and, as far as he cared, every individual the palace contained to destruction.

Now it so occurs that the fine building in Warsaw denominated the Zamoyski palace is, in fact, two houses or two palaces. The one is generally inhabited by the Count himself, who at the period of its disgraceful pillage was, and is now, absent in Paris; the other was let out in various apartments to persons of the highest respectability. Now, from a window of this latter portion of the palace the shot was thrown ; and Count Zamoyski is about the last subject of the Emperor of all the Russias who would lend himself to the work of an assassin. Every article, however, in both houses was pillaged and destroyed, to the value of a hundred thousand pounds; articles never to be repurchased— books, papers, jewels, invaluable to the Count's family; and De Berg -who bears the name of soldier, ay, and commander-stood by, and permitted his officers to act a far worse part than is being enacted by Italian brigands.

With regard to the other atrocity, committed on the premises of Messrs. Evans, who, as I have said, are highly respectable gentlemen, owners of a very extensive iron manufactory, and employing at least six hundred hands,-it is very briefly told. One of their men, returning home after his day's labour, was stopped in the street by a policeman. He might possibly have been slightly intoxicated; he might have been a suspected character; suffice that in his possession were found two or three roughly-cast shells, of very small dimensions. They were not loaded, but were said to be of the Orsini class of shell, made to be charged with fulminating powder, and thrown by hand. This was enough to convict not only the unlucky bearer of the missiles, but the whole establishment in which he worked. After a farce of a trial, without having evidence or means of defence, he was condemned to be shot; and he was shot in the yard of the factory, in the presence, as I have said, of his fellow-workmen, who, as also a large force of Russian soldiery, were com

pelled to attend. It was further ordered that the firm should pay a fine of 15,000 roubles. In vain was it explained to the Russian authorities that no blame could possibly attach to the persons whom it was sought thus to punish; that a single workman, bent upon casting shells as those produced, which were of a very rough and imperfect character, might find opportunities of doing it, even without its being necessarily known to the very men who worked nearest to him; and also that the fabrication of projectiles was no part of the business there carried on. The fine has since been remitted; but henceforth manufacturers are given to understand that they will be held answerable for the acts of their workmen. It must certainly be agreeable, after long years of honourable labour for the benefit of Russia and the Russians, to find oneself in this hour, when the world is supposed to be becoming civilised, at work for one's fellowmen with a rope round your neck, or a file of armed grenadiers at all times ready to shoot you through the heart. These Russian commanders are decidedly no acquisition to the society of Warsaw or the world.

The environs on the southern side of Warsaw are not without natural beauty, though the country for the most part is flat and sandy. Perhaps the most agreeable drive is that to the Larienski palace, the ancient abode of the Sobieskis, approached from the city by a pleasant avenue of shady trees a mile in length, which in summer time forms the principal fashionable drive and promenade. The palace itself, though small, has peculiar charms, built, as it were, over a portion of a small lake, and surrounded by luxuriant trees and park-land, the more pleasant from its contrast to the flat and sandy plains of the country near at hand. Here, as elsewhere, neglect is beginning to tell on that which once was a peaceful and happy resort to those who left for a time the noisy labours and excitement of the city; and as Russian soldiers at every turn, and all around and about the palace, stop you here, and ask your business there,—as if every tree was a rebel and every branch a loaded rifle,—all the pleasant feelings emanating from the surrounding beauty are at once annihilated.

The Villa Marionet, at Willanom, on the northern side of the city, the once-cherished residence of Stanislas Augustus, is another pleasant palace near the banks of the Vistula, larger than that of Larienski. Here in peaceful times all the beau-monde were wont to assemble in carly spring-time; in fact, it was the Champs Elysées.

At Warsaw all this, however, for the time being, is at an end. If so be the public were to meet on these pleasant grounds, it would be a meeting of those in mourning for the dead, instead of a gay and brilliant association in the full enjoyment of the present, and hoping for the future. In Warsaw, the light of other days is faded. Formerly the city was not without the charms of nature and the charms of society, rendering it, in its class, one of the most intellectual and pleasant resorts in Europe. Alas that there should remain only memories of the past, and bitter feelings as regards the present! It is a sad page to write.

Here as I sit, on this bright, calm morning in October, looking on the very avenue I have named, leading to pleasant scenes,-in the villa of a kind friend, beyond the limits of the city, yet within the limits of military command, not a sound, save that of an occasional carriage-wheel, breaking on my ear; I know and feel, and sorrow in the knowledge, that within cannon-range there are hundreds, nay thousands, of hearts beating with sad and contending emotions, and I would wish, with an ardent wish, my pen were capable, in the brief time and space I have to write, to place more clearly on my page the effects of all those contending feelings, past and present.

The whole policy of Russia towards Poland has ever been one of oppression. At the hour I write, while the kingdom proper of Poland contains 4,800,000 inhabitants, not 250,000 have received a school education, and not 3000 have ever had a university education. In fact, there have been no schools save in the capital; and the whole policy of Russia has been to brutalise a nation they conquered, the elements of which they knew to be superior to their own.

I have reason to believe that Wielopolski's rule as Viceroy was the best for Poland, though his mode and manner of ruling was offensive; and the day may still come when this fact will be proved. Thrice his life was attempted—once by poison, when his whole being suffered for a time, and twice by the hand of the assassin; and his intended coup d'état, the conscription, though it failed, was by no means the act it has been considered in Europe, nor was it ever understood. Had he been enabled to carry out this, the reforms he recommended to the Emperor, and which the Emperor endorsed, would have gone far to ameliorate the position of Poland.

The struggle has arrived at a point beyond conciliation; what might have been done at the commencement, had the calm and reasonable suggestions of such men as Zamoyski been listened to, cannot now be effected. Russia knows this well, and, foreseeing that she can never conciliate herself with a nation she has misunderstood, outraged, humiliated, and brutalised, her only wish is now to exterminate it.

Many people, many nations, would have lost courage. The Poles have not; they are ruined, crushed, and die without complaining. None but can admire their courage, and pity their lot; all must deplore that they fired the first shot; all must condemn the barbarous retaliation which daily takes place.

Past Help.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "TWICE LOST."

LET her lie upon your breast while she faints,
Where she slept such a short time ago.
O! she's young to be crowned with the saints:
Hold her fast, mother; do not let her go!

The roses are not dead on her cheeks,-

There is but a passing chill on their bloom; It will go when she smiles-when she speaksHush! was not that her voice in the room?

He remembers the joy of her face,

The love in her smile and the light,

When, shrinking, she met his embrace

Bring him here; let him look at her to-night!

O! first came the wonder and the doubt,

And the pale hope fading day by day;

So wistfully she wandered about,

Like a lost child asking its way.

And then came the silence and despair,

And the sighing after wings like a dove, And the proud heart bleeding into prayer,

But hiding all its wounds from our love.

It is over, and the tale is all told,

And the white lamb lies dead in the frost :
We may cover up its limbs from the cold,
But we cannot find a life that is lost.

Yet we thought that she moved; but her check
Was but stirred by the breast where it lay
Heaving a little, while we speak,

With the mute sobs forcing their way.

Let them come, poor mother! let them come;
You must turn, when your tears are all done,

To a blank in the sweet talk at home,
And a name on a little gray stone.

S. M.

LONDON: PRINTED BY ROBSON AND LEVEY, GREAT NEW STREET, PETTER LANE, E.C.