pport of these officers and their residences, with distributions
and pensions for the lower ranks of the soldiery, to whom the "croix
d'honneur" is given.

Thus the old reign of titles, orders, crosses, and an established Class
of society, has begun once more; a large portion of the most influential
personages of France are thus bound to the head of the government, the
hopes of every man, however humble in soldiership or in science, are
pointed to the attainment of this public honour, as well as personal
provision, and the general purchase of power is virtually declared, with
the general consent of this versatile nation.

Ten thousand pounds have just been voted to Jenner, for his discovery of
the vaccine inoculation. The liberality of parliament was never more
rationally employed. The history of the man, and the discovery, have
been long before the public. But the most curious circumstance of the
whole is, that the facts of the disease, and the remedy, should have
remained for any one to discover in the nineteenth century. They were
known to the peasantry of Gloucestershire probably from the first days
of cow milking. That the most disfiguring of all diseases, in every
country of Europe and Asia, and the most pestilential in a large portion
of the globe, could be arrested by a disease from the udders of a cow,
seems never to have entered into human thoughts, though the fact that
those who had the vaccine disease never suffered from the smallpox, was
known to the country physicians.

But Jenner's chief merit was his fortunate conjecture, that the
infection might be propagated from one human subject to another. This
was the greatest medical discovery since that of the Circulation of the
Blood.

IT'S ALL FOR THE BEST.

CHAPTER I.

"It's all for the best, you may depend upon it," said Frank Trevelyan,
addressing his companion, Vernon Wycherley, as those two young men were
pursuing a beaten track across one of those wild wastes that form so
prevalent a feature in most of the mining districts of Cornwall.

"All for the best, indeed?" repeated Vernon interrogatively. "Can it be
all for the best to have a whole batch of poems I've been racking my
brains about for the last year and a half--and which even you yourself,
hard as you are to please, admitted were worthy of praise--to have all
these, not only rejected by every publisher I offered them to, but to be
actually returned with a recommendation to give up