o death by order of Richard III. of England,
and as he walked to the scaffold he exclaimed to the throng that stood
around him, "The world moves." The drums struck up to drown his words.
Smiling at this little by-play, he adjusted his crimson mantle about him
and laid his head upon the block. He then drank off the cup of hemlock
with philosophic composure. This great man's life (which, by the way,
was not insured) teaches the beautiful moral lesson that an excess of
virtue is apt to be followed by a redundancy of happiness, and that he
who would secure the felicity of to-day must disdain alike the
evanescent shadows of yesterday and the intangible adumbrations of the
morrow.

S. Y.

THE CRIES OF THE MARCHANDS.

The other morning I was lying quietly in bed, waiting for the bonne to
fetch my cafe noir, when a most extraordinary sound caught my ear. The
cries of Paris marchands early in the morning are curious enough
usually, but this one exceeded in quaintness all that I had heard since
my arrival. Between the words "Chante, chante, Adrienne!" a horrible
braying broke forth, resounding through our quiet faubourg in a manner
which brought many a _bonnet de nuit_ to the windows. I got up to see
what was the matter.

"Chante, chante, Adrienne!" re-echoed again over the smooth asphalte.

By this time a crowd of gamins--the gamins are always up, no matter how
early--had gathered in the middle of the street around the object of the
disturbance. It was a marchand of vegetables in a greasy blouse, leading
an ass. There was a huge pannier on the ass's back full of kitchen
vegetables, which the marchand was crying and praising to our sleepy
faubourg. With an economy worthy of Silhouette, the scamp had taught
Adrienne--for that was the beast's name--to bray every time he said
"Pommes de terre, de terre--terre!" As often as he said this, or
"Chante, Adrienne, chante!" Adrienne would switch her tail and _chante_
lugubriously, setting the whole neighborhood in commotion. So adroitly
had he trained the creature--with her thigh-bones sticking in peaks
through her hide, and a visage of preternatural solemnity--that when her
master but lifted his finger Adrienne would go through her part with
admirable gravity, thus helping her lord to get his daily bread. I
laughed till the bonne came with my coffee, and was glad to see the
pannier gradually emptying as the grotesque procession defiled through
our street, with a rear-guard of exhi