r had collected there and formed a narrow mirror at the bottom;
there were also a tuft of grass with flowers in it, and a swallow's
nest. Thus in a space only two feet in diameter were a lake, a garden
and a habitation--a birds' paradise. As I gazed the swallow was giving
water to her brood. Round the upper edge of the basin were what looked
like crenelles, and between these the swallow had built her nest.
I examined these crenelles. They had the form of fleurs-de-lys. The
support was a statue. This happy little world was the stone crown of an
old king. And if God were asked: "Of what use was this Lothario,
this Philip, this Charles, this Louis, this emperor, this king?"
God peradventure would reply: "He had this statue made and lodged a
swallow."

The coronation occurred. This is not the place to describe it. Besides
my recollections of the ceremony of May 27, 1825, have been recounted
elsewhere by another, more ably than I could set them forth.

Suffice it to say that it was a radiant day. God seemed to have given
his assent to the fete. The long clear windows--for there are no more
stained-glass windows at Rheims--let in bright daylight; all the light
of May was in the church. The Archbishop was covered with gilding
and the altar with rays. Marshal de Lauriston, Minister of the King's
Household, rejoiced at the sunshine. He came and went, as busy as
could be, and conversed in low tones with Lecointe and Hittorf, the
architects. The fine morning afforded the occasion to say, "the sun of
the coronation," as one used to say "the sun of Austerlitz." And in the
resplendent light a profusion of lamps and tapers found means to beam.

At one moment Charles X., attired in a cherry-coloured simar striped
with gold, lay at full length at the Archbishop's feet. The peers of
France on the right, embroidered with gold, beplumed in the Henri IV.
style, and wearing long mantles of velvet and ermine, and the Deputies
on the left, in dress-coats of blue cloth with silver fleurs-de-lys on
the collars, looked on.

About all the forms of chance were represented there: the Papal
benediction by the cardinals, some of whom had witnessed the coronation
of Napoleon; victory by the marshals; heredity by the Duke d'Angouleme,
dauphin; happiness by M. de Talleyrand, lame but able to get about; the
rising and falling of stocks by M. de Villele; joy by the birds that
were released and flew away, and the knaves in a pack of playing-cards
by