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Up to the middle of 1788, the prov- | consisting of the usual three orders, ince of Franche Comté had taken no met in one chamber and voted by part in these disputes, but after the counting heads. Its organization had king's decrees had been forcibly regis- been much admired by Fénelon, and tered at Besançon, a hundred nobles been taken as a model by the governmet and sent a letter to the king, ask-ment in decreeing the 'Provincial ing for a restoration of the Provincial Assemblies." Therefore it was that Estates. The petition was rejected, under the influence of the aristocratic and the newly instituted Assembly in- reaction, begun in 1781, the nobles besisted on, which was hateful to the gan to protest and claim their separate nobility, because of the voting by num-chamber, and voting by "orders." bers and not by orders, therein com- This showed how little they really manded. On the fall of Brienne the cared for antiquity and tradition, and nobles met again (on the 10th of Sep-how willing they were to welcome radtember), and imprudently swore never ical changes, provided such changes to adopt any form of assembly save favored their interests. Meetings were that of the ancient "estates"- the held, the king was applied to, and abuses of which were monstrous; and agitation spread over the province, they were energetically supported by arousing at last the opposition of the the dignified members of the clergy.commons. Then the disturbance beThereupon opposition arose on the part came so great that Necker dissolved of the commons, encouraged by the the Estates till such time as their conlower clergy and a few liberal nobles. stitution should be definitely settled by With Necker's tacit permission the the States-General of France. Estates met on November 27th, in the same form as when last assembled in 1666, but the tiers état protested in favor of such a modification of the Provincial Estates as had been agreed on in Dauphiny.

Provence was a part of France which had long been administered in a very singular manner. Before Richelieu it had enjoyed its Provincial Estates, composed of the usual three orders, and these (as in Languedoc) met in a single chamber and voted by counting heads. Nevertheless the members of the Third Estate formed such an insignificant minority that they were constantly outvoted, and quite powerless. The suppression of the Estates, therefore, caused no regret to the commons, and all the less because they possessed another institution which gave them a great advantage. The latter (which was in full activity in 1788) was called the General Assembly of Communities, and it met every year for some days at Lambesc. The Archbishop of Aix was its president, and there were six official members, but thirty-six were freely chosen by the municipalities; and so the commons enjoyed in it an effective supremacy; it was a very popular body, which kept the taxes low, and saw that they were equitably distributed. Thus, when the government instituted its The province of Languedoc had in-new Provincial Assemblies, it was genherited from preceding ages a very pe- erally expected that the institution culiar constitution. Its estates, though would be maintained.

Meantime appeared the famous decree of the government, which ordained that in the great States-General of the whole kingdom, the members of the tiers état were to equal in number the representatives of both the first and second orders. Against this the higher orders of Franche Comté protested violently, and the Parlement co-operating, the exemptions and feudal claims of the privileged classes were declared immutable and incapable of diminution by either the king or the States-General. There was but one authority in which they recognized any such power. Strange to say, this authority was the whole population consulted by universal suffrage, for the express purpose of constituting a national organization. Little did they dream that, three days before, such an appeal had been determined on by the government itself.

none

But the privileged orders protested | gentry enjoyed no doubt a considerable against it, and called for the re-institu- predominance; but it was one to which tion of the old aristocratic Estates of their qualities and conduct had largely Provence as they were in Richelieu's entitled them. They always worked time, when the commons had practi- energetically for and with the people, cally no vote. Their demand, marvel- bore their fair share of taxation, and lous to say, was granted, and the possessed few privileges, and Estates held their first sitting on De- which violently outraged the popular cember 31, 1787. The first order was sentiment, while above all they formed composed of the bishops, vicars-general, no caste. In France the noblesse not deans, chapters, and abbots. The no- only, as every one knows, did form a blesse were represented by one hundred caste, but one almost exclusively disand twenty-eight members, while the tinguished by odious privileges. They tiers état had but fifty-six, almost half watched with avidity the decay and of whom also were really nobles. ruin of the royal power, not as an opAccustomed as the inhabitants of portunity for founding a truly national Provence had been to the equitable ad- and vigorous polity, but as an opporministration of their General Assemblytunity whereby they might themselves of Communities, the commons loudly benefit exclusively, by augmenting demanded the doubling of their repre- their own privileges, and giving a firm sentatives, and equality of taxation. The former demand was conceded, but the nobles would not grant the second, further than by consenting to bear a They did not hesitate, as we have share in the repair of roads, and to pay seen, again and again to stimulate a four thousand livres towards the sup- revolutionary passion and positive report of bastard children. The clergy volt, in the supposed interest of their were less generous still, being only order, and they were even ready to willing to agree to half of what the tamper with that military discipline nobles offered. Thereupon the com- which should have been, from their mons began a vigorous opposition to traditions, above all sacred in their the Estates, appealing to the king. As eyes. The pathetic history of the terthe privileged orders had demanded the rible evils they had afterwards to ensuppression of the popular General dure, the monstrous injustice of which Assembly, and the convocation of the they became the victims, and the adantiquated Estates which gave them mirable way in which so many men the advantage, so the commons in turn, and women of the most refined culture profiting by their example, sought, and nobly bore in exile the pressure of terafter many contentions and much vio-rible privations, must not blind our eyes lence at last obtained, the restoration to the faults of the class to which they of their beloved General Assembly, belonged. Historic equity compels us which gave them, once more, the upper hand.

and unalterable basis for those feudal claims which the peasantry throughout France so passionately detested.

to bear witness to faults so graphically described by M. Aimé Cherest. But The brief account here given con- justice being thus satisfied, we may all cerning the alternately revolutionary the more freely accord to their many and reactionary conduct of the priv- merits the esteem they deserve; with ileged orders, may suffice to bring home deep compassion for those sufferings to our readers the profoundly different and calamities which constitute one of character and conduct of the higher the greatest tragedies that human hisclasses in England and in France. In tory can offer to our sympathetic conour own country, peers and landed templation.

Week after week had passed since the closing day, and still no sign had been vouchsafed by the authorities; but at last there had been some signs of life within the grim walls, and a young man who had made inquiry daily, and daily been informed that the result was as yet unknown, had been bidden return within the hour on presenting himself at Burlington House on the morning in question. He had done so, and it was he who now besought the good offices of another, on the plea of short-sightedness.

"Much obliged." Barton Manningham Allerton dropped his cane upon the pavement, and, picking it up, walked away.

Although the month was December, he fancied himself blinded by the sunshine which flared into his eyes. He also fancied he had not a very firm grip of the paving-stones beneath his feet, and was obliged to be very careful in order not to knock against people nor to jostle them. In crossing the streets he was most particular not to be run over; insomuch that once a crossingsweeper, in stature up to his elbow, jeeringly proffered his services: “Now, don't you be afeard. You jist kitch 'old o' me, and I'll see that nobody does you any damage."

The urchin's voice sounded strange and far off in Barton Manningham Allerton's ears. He did not feel inclined to laugh, nor did he put his fingers in his pocket for a penny. Instead, he turned upon the youthful satirist a pair of soulless orbs, whose expression was so helpless, so mystified, so strange altogether, that impish Dick Castaway never forgot it, and related the tale to his mates with peals of shrill laughter at the close of the day.

Having carefully picked his way across, halting upon the "refuge" in the centre, until he was taken in tow by a policeman piloting a covey of females, this peculiarly timid strangera fine, athletic young fellow, who looked "Barton Manningham Allerton, first," the very man to enjoy a wild chaos read the person thus applied to, with of horses' noses and hoofs-solemnly slow distinctness, for he could only just stalked along Piccadilly for about a decipher the characters himself; "John third of a mile, then re-crossed with George Merewether, second; John Wil-equal precision, and presently found kinson, third.” Then he turned and himself at the spot whence he had be

looked at his interrogator.

A quick flush had mounted to the young man's face, and the mask of careless curiosity had dropped from it.

Yet he strove not to betray too much. "Ah-thank you would you mind · what did you say was the first name, exactly?" he stammered, his breath catching a little.

"Barton Manningham Allerton," repeated his informant, with a pause between each word.

fore started. As a fact, he did not know where he was going, and only as much as a semi-drunken man does of what he was doing. He was walking about in London; and to safely walk about in London with half one's wits asleep, requires the other half to be very wide awake indeed. Hence all this circumlocution on the part of our wool-gatherer.

Finally, he got into an omnibus bound for a north London station, and

sat there with a faint smile on his face, | influence, the want of a projectile in elicited by the relief of having at last any shape was beginning to make itself reached a place where it was safe to sit most keenly felt. Of late everybody down.

This was how Barty Allerton took the news of his success -a success which to him meant almost everything the world could give.

He was young, strong, handsome, clever; he longed to be in the thick of the battle-fray of life; to wring from it not only its rewards and prizes, but its experience, its deep draughts of knowledge, its stores of strange and mystic wisdom. There was so much to be seen and done there was such innumerable paths to be trodden-such hundreds of worlds to conquer, if only he could be up and at them!

who came to his father's house had said, "Why don't you try for this?" or "Why don't you go in for that? But when inquiries had been made anent the suggestion, it had been pretty sure to turn out that the business or profession either necessitated some specific education which he had not got, or that the knowledge he had would be thrown away.

Occasionally there had been an ominous hint let fall. He had been asked how old he was. Three-and-twenty is not a great age; but our young man was perfectly aware that his Job's comforters knew what they were talking Hitherto he had made his mark on about, when they shook their heads every little by-way he had passed along; over it, and wondered whether or not he had been head boy of the grammar he were "past the age." In these school, and medallist of the public days the bough has to be bent in the school; he had won an Oxford scholarship, and taken an Oxford degree. Yet, with it all, his future was not clear before him.

This may seem strange; but somehow such strange things do happen.

All goes along well in life up to a certain point; and then comes a deadlock.

Perhaps there is no opening? Perhaps when the opening comes, there is not money to take advantage of it? Perhaps there is no family influence? Perhaps the talents which have carried all before them, when "all" meant laurels won by dint of concentrated resolution and steadfast application in a certain and limited groove, fail to be negotiable when brought into the great market of the world?

given direction so very soon.

So that there were plenty of people found to prophesy that in spite of Barty Allerton's double row of school prizes, his Oxford scholarship and Oxford degree, he would find himself out in the cold one of these days if he did not get something to do pretty sharp. He did not mean to be a parson"? He "detested medicine"? He "shied at the bar"? Pray, what did he want? If he had thought sooner about the army — but after all, it would have been rather a "come down" for the wonderful scion of the Allerton family (and here it must be owned the gossips were somewhat inclined to curl their lips) to have been gazetted into a regiment of the line, and thenceforth vanish from the paths of scholarship.

Be that is it may, Barty Allerton "What on earth Barty Allerton had left the university, and knew not still hanging on at home? Got nothwhither he was bound. He was poor, ing to do yet?" one would say to the and work he must. Nay, he loved other and eyebrows had begun to be work for its own sake; but just when raised, and shoulders shrugged. There it was absolutely necessary to be earn- had even been a terrible whisper in the ing his own livelihood, he had realized air. "Hasn't that young Allerton been with surprise that there was nothing somewhat over-rated, eh? Did such for him to do. wonders at school! Supported himself Then, all at once, came his opportu- at college! And now - eh ?” And nity, and that at the precise moment if the speakers chanced to have sons of when the want of fortune, the want of their own, it is conceivable that a

secret and involuntary joy occasionally tion there. It had been "Any news, entered into the conversation at this Barty?" every morning and evening, juncture, when it was remembered after he had strolled to the garden gate, how Barty's parents had gloried in the prowess of their first-born, believing that he had no equal in all the length and breadth of the land.

about the time the postman went by. When he had taken to running up to town, and haunting the precincts of Burlington House, there had been the same ordeal to face on his return about six o'clock. He had been irritated,

It was, I think, an intuitive perception of this which, as much as anything else, made the young man's head swim and had returned many a cross anand his pulses throb, as he walked away | swer. from Burlington House with the words alone? "Barton Manningham Allerton" ringing in his ears.

Why could they not let him

But it all added up in the sum total of his present bliss. Kitty would be at the gate looking for him. Eva, who had a reserved disposition more akin to his own, and who in consequence un

Not merely had he won his laurels he had escaped from the edge of a precipice. He had vindicated himself. There would no longer be the half-derstood and respected his reticence at smile he had been accustomed to see accompanying the greeting, "Hullo, Barty, you still about! Got nothing to do yet, eh?" He would no longer have to reply vaguely, as he had got into the habit of doing, that he had "heard of something" and was "mak-why it vanished on his approach), while ing inquiries." He would now face his tormentors on every side.

He would take care to be met and interrogated. Then it would be, in answer to the old question, "Oh yes, I shall be off to the East directly. I have come out first in the Ceylon Civil Examination." How people would

stare!

this trying episode, would be watching from some retreat, in order to form her own conclusions from his step and air (he had caught a glimpse of her dress behind the thick stem of the ilextree more than once of late, and guessed

his mother's voice would hail him from a window; and he would see his old father stop clipping the laurels and look round-at this point Barty felt a sensation he hardly knew how to deal with. He almost wished the great moment were over!

Strange to tell, everything fell out exactly as depicted. How rarely this happens, we all know; but it did occur in the present case. Our young man caught his train down from town, and stepped out on the well-known platform, and the station-master nodded to him - a little too familiarly, he thought. Smiles did not know that Barty had come out "first" in the list of the

The poor lad was not vain. In prosperity he had been modest enough. But he had been so badgered and baited; he had so dreaded the inevitable formula, and felt so keenly the truth of each well-meant hint, as well as of each innuendo that he was really to be pardoned if he did, in the first flush of victory, long to turn the tables." Ceylon Civil." Living in a small country town, where reserve on the part of any inhabitant is neither expected nor possible, he had often felt as if he and his affairs were common talk - as indeed to a certain extent they were. He thought he would rather like to be common talk now.

As he walked homeward, he almost wondered that he was not accosted and congratulated then caught himself up, and hugged his secret to his heart. Outwardly, he looked so stern and uncommunicative, that one or two whom he passed on the way saluted him with a glance half interrogative, half sympaAnd then what joy, what rapture, thetic, not feeling quite sure that somewould there not be in the poor, over- thing had not come to pass the wrong stocked home! For some weeks every way. Then, far ahead, he caught sight one had been on the tiptoe of expecta- of Kitty's peeping face. Should he