battle-field, although he survived the wound for six years. When he planted the mustard seed which was to be transformed into the vigorous tree on whose branches so many rare birds were to come and sing, this peasant's son was about twentyseven years old. Coming from a little Savoyard village, he had only a good college education. His father, a plain farmer, had been most anxious to give this great advantage to his three sons, who were all very remarkable for their intelligence and will power. One of them wrote historical works, another emigrated to America to seek his fortune, while the third had, at first, to make use of his knowledge in humble situations. He worked in a chemical factory for a time, and then became a printer. And it can truly be said that François Buloz knew how to make the most of all the experiences of his life. The degree of excellence he attained as a proof-reader counted for much in the skilful management he was able to give the Revue later on. Never was there a more vigilantly careful reader; never did severe clear-sightedness, permitting no imperfection whatsoever to escape it, manifest itself in so extraordinary a measure; and these master qualities were acquired during his early "hard times" as a workman. Buloz did not know what it was to do anything by halves, and, in his opinion, nothing was insignificant if perfectly well done. How many times we have heard him say: "It is better to have made a faultless shoe than a poor statue." In the beginning of 1831, a printer by the name of Auffray took this resolute and industrious young man as his partner in the management of a magazine called The Traveler's Journal. On its cover there was a figure of America, in wampum belt and moccasins, offering the traditional olive-branch to a more fully draped Europe. This was the germ of the Revue des Deux Mondes. It had so few subscribers, and its con dition was so precarious, that the new manager's salary was only twelve hundred francs ($240) a year. In addition to this, he was to receive two francs (forty cents) for each new subscription. When one thinks of the number of subscribers to the Revue des Deux Mondes at its apogee, and of its shares at ninety thousand francs apiece, one marvels at the ground it has covered. It is true that not even the vigorous quality of Buloz's character, nor his naturally keen scent for going straight towards talent and extracting all that it could possibly give, would have sufficed to bring about such a miracle. Most fortunate circumstances came to aid him. Never did genius flourish in such varied forms, at any one time. as during the period between 1830 and 1848; and whether they were rich or poor, the writers of that epoch wrote first and foremost for the sheer delight of writing. Henri Blaze de Bury, Buloz's brotherin-law, who joined the newly formed staff of the Revue and distinguished himself there by his brilliant versatility, used to say, and in the most charming way, too: "We wrote for glory; when it became known that a hive of ideas was being started in an obscure corner of the Faubourg St. Germain, a swarm of free and joyous talents suddenly winged their way to it. and no one stopped to inquire whether Buloz had any money or not. His first contributors only thought of launching their names in connection with higher education, politics, poetry, or the drama. Buloz fully understood that all this strength needed to be marshalled, and offered his services in the very 'nick of time." " Let us enter in the Golden Book the names of the idealists who gave themselves so unconditionally. They were Alfred de Vigny, Jules Sandeau, Prosper Mérimée, Alfred de Musset, and George Sand. From "The Revue des Deux Mondes." By Th. Bentzon. From Harper's Magazine. MR. CHAMBERLAIN IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. It was some time before the House recognized Mr. Chamberlain as one of its able debaters. But from the time he took part in the struggle over homerule he has steadily gone up in oratorical reputation, and he has undoubtedly steadily improved in oratorical powers. At the present moment he can claim to be the most formidable and the readiest debater in that assembly. If I were asked to say what is the chief secret of his success as a speaker, I should answer that it is lucidity. Nothing could be more transparent than his language and meaning. The most involved and intricate subject, or the longest and closest line of reasoning, becomes under his hand as simple, as readily intelligible, as an elementary lesson in the alphabet. The second secret of his success is his power of making what are called "hits." His humor is not a genial one, nor is his temper sweet, and therefore there is considerable acidity in his wit, but it is a kind of wit that is relished by those who happen to agree with Mr. Chamberlain. In the art of crushing an adversary by an inconvenient quotation, by some form of personal thrust, Mr. Chamberlain is also unequalled. It is this gift which makes him as formidable on the platform as he is in the House of Commons-indeed, sometimes more so, for on the platform he is free from some of the restraints by which a man is limited in a legislative assembly. The third secret of his success is his extraordinary industry. When he entered public life he gave up commercial life almost entirely. He is still interested in the new industry of the Bahamas-mainly, I should think, with a view to encouraging the fortunes of one of his children; but with the exception of an occasional excursion like this into the realms of speculation, Mr. Chamberlain is a man of only one pursuit in life, and that pursuit is politics. To just as small an extent are his energies diverted by the pursuit of pleasure or sport. Most En glishmen are compelled by their training and surroundings to devote a certain portion of every year to some form of outdoor exercise-to shooting or fishing or hunting; Mr. Chamberlain is entirely free from any of these wants. He has not even taken up with any of the milder substitutes which are becoming daily more employed by middleaged men in England. He does not golf like Mr. Balfour; he does not cycle like many other public men; he even does not walk. It is said that sometimes he does not for weeks put foot to ground; and as he is said to enjoy the pleasures of the table with keen relish, his health must be regarded as phenominal. Not only does he always seem to be in the best of spirits and health, but he looks almost the youngest man in the House of Commons for his years. There is a story-which is probably apocryphal—that he was once addressed as a boy who could find accommodation in any kind of hole on a somewhat overloaded vessel. It is certainly true that though he is approaching his sixtieth year, his face is almost boyish in appearance, and there is not a grey hair in his head-certainly not one that can be seen at a distance. This absorption in political life renders him especially formidable in the House of Commons. He comes down there nightly with a store of quotations ready for use against any opponent who happens to leave himself open to attack, and no sooner has the victim sat down than Mr. Chamberlain is on his legs ready to split him with a quotation from some previous utterance. I have no doubt that Mr. Chamberlain is well served by his secretary, and probably also by his son-a clever young fellow who has already given considerable promise; but, nevertheless, it is Mr. Chamberlain who knows how to make use of the material, and the use he makes of it is certainly a very remarkable and moreover a very deadly Parliamentary gift. The fault which I find in the speeches of Mr. Chamberlain is that they are thin, shallow, and ungenial. He never strikes me as a man who has thought out his proposals profoundly, and as really concerned much beyond the debating success of the moment. In listening to him you get the impression of a very clever and a very strong man; but you do not-at least I do not-get the impression of a powerful intellect. Indeed, I should say that Mr. Chamberlain's strength is one of temperament rather than of naked intellect. Even the defects of his temperament are an addition to its strength. He, himself, I have heard, declares that he has never forgiven; and he does give the impression of a man that it is not safe to antagonize, and that views life in the archipersonal manner of a man who sees in its broad and varied panorama a struggle for personal supremacy. It is from this temperament that he derives the power of commanding so much obedience. He is not a man who is much loved, and yet he is able to wield a political influence in Birmingham and around it almost as formidable as what the "boss" wields in some American cities. He has got his position by sheer strength of will and character, and it is this which makes him a man who has always to be counted with. The character so hard otherwise, has, however, a very soft side where his own family is concerned. He is, I believe, beloved by his children; and when Mr. Gladstone, with inimitable grace, paid a compliment to Mr. Chamberlain on the oratorical promise of his son, Mr. Chamberlain was immediately and profoundly moved; before the whole astonished House this hard man was seen to wipe away the tears that had sprung to his eyes. What the future of Mr. Chamberlain will be it is impossible to tell. I believe, however, he may be regarded as definitely parted from his old companions in arms. Members of Parliament are a compromising race of short memories and forgiving tempers; but the masses are of a different material, and at this moment undoubtedly Mr. Chamberlain is more hated than any other public man by the British masses. The mere mention of his name at any Liberal meeting suffices to elicit a long and fierce howl of execration; and therefore if the men at Westminster were ready to take him back, the people outside would prob ably refuse. Nor can it be said that the Tories have any great desire to number him in their ranks. No party is especially anxious to take into its fold even the most brilliant deserters from the other side; and Mr. Chamberlain, after all, remains a radical on some questions still. But whether the Teries like him or not, they will have to accept him if he insists on his rights; and, on the whole, my expectation is that he will be a prominent member of the next Tory Cabinet. From "The Celebrities of the House of mons." By T. P. O'Connor. Com From Scribner's Magazine. OLD DAYS AT PRINCETON. In the days of President Maclean, affectionately known among the students as "Johnnie," a considerable part of the enjoyment of breaking the college laws consisted in getting and keeping the old gentleman out, and leading him a dance. For he was a figure in his day. The slightest noise or indication of a rumpus would bring "Old Johnnie" to the Campus, night or day. After dark he carried a lantern, and at all times appeared in immense Indiarubber shoes, an old-fashioned cloak, and a beaver hat which might be described as archaic. His principal fice when not teaching was that of police-superintendent of the college. There were no "Proctors" in those days, but "Dennis," the college servant, assisted "Johnnie," and used to summon the boys to appear before the Faculty after “Johnnie” had caught them. Dennis is still there and will complete this year a half century of faithful service to the college. Many of the disturbances were made by the students for the sole purpose of enticing the president to pursuit, and to hear his familiar "tut, tut!" when he of secured a supposed offender. The furniture in his office was not of the most solid kind. When Henry Clay visited Princeton, and was asked by "Johnnie" to sit down in his study, he did so and the rickety chair gave way. The statesman got up and said, "Dr. Maclean, I hope the other chairs of the institution are on a more permanent foundation." One night, when two maltese donkeys from Commodore Stockton's field were found on the fourth floor of North College, the students asked Dr. Maclean how he thought they had got there. "Through their great anxiety," said he, "to visit some of their brethren." The Rev. Theodore L. Cuyler, D.D., of the class of '41, says there was a picture of "Old Johnnie" up in the old college for a long time representing him with a policeman's baton over his shoulder. Somehow or other that old man entwined himself around the affections of the students. For forty-six years he was connected with the college as professor and president. Long after his retirement the mere mention of his name among the alumni would bring out a rousing cheer. students looked aghast. The chagrin of the tutor and the hilarity of the boys may be imagined when Pennington stepped to the bed and picked out* his own shirts marked with his name. The boys who steal off to New York and Philadelphia by train and come back in the "owl," would hesitate to take the hazard which their forefathers had to risk seventy-five years ago when they went to Philadelphia by stage, requiring an absence of two or three days during which their classmates would keep candles burning in their rooms and answer for their names at roll-call. In those days it would seem that the student body was less submissive to authority than now, in spite of more rigorous rules. During the latter part of President Green's administration, in 1816, the students became riotous and took possession of the college. The recitation-rooms were barred, lectures and other exercises were necessarily abandoned, and the institution was practically in a state of siege-all on account of some dissatisfaction with the management of the college. From Undergraduate Life at Princeton-Old and New." By James W. Alexander. The mode of life was simpler in those days than now, but the same humor which still makes collegians so comic effervesced fifty years ago. When, for example, William Pennington, son of a former governor of New Jersey, roomed next door to Senior Tutor Topping, it was the custom for each man to hang on the outside knob of his door the bag containing his soiled clothes for laundry. Pennington stuffed his own shirts one day, in Tutor Topping's bag, and waited for the day when the clean linen was returned and laid out on Topping's bed. Then, knowing that a number of students were in Topping's room, Pennington knocked at his door. On entering he put on an injured air and said: "Mr. Topping, I have no objections whatever to lending you my shirts if you need them, but I must protest against your taking them This glazed portico leads direct from without my knowledge." Topping was the garden into the great drawingindignant and denied the charge. Pen- room-a noble salon, sixty-five by nington demanded an inspection. The twenty-five feet-formerly three dis From The Cosmopolitan. MARLBOROUGH HOUSE. There are no conservatories or hothouses at Marlborough House, the glass structure leading from the drawing-room into the garden being more in the nature of an ornamental portico. It is used as a lounge and smoking-room and looks very pretty with its floor of blue-and-yellow tiles, its couches covered with turkey-red twill, convenient tables, easy-chairs, blue-and-white vases, and a white marble fountain filled with ferns and lycopodium, whereon a tinkling, moistening spring ever falls. tinct rooms, the handsome groups of pillars against the wall marking the original divisions. Quite the most beautiful objects in the room are two Louis XVI. cabinets, mounted in ormolu, with ivory plaques in center panels and inlaid with various woods. They cost three hundred pounds apiece, and a fine Dresden vase stands upon each. The occasional tables and writing-tables matching these exquisite cabinets are also very handsome. On entering the famous Indian-room from the western door of the drawingroom, and glancing round at the cases full of lethal weapons, we recall, as follows, the words of a popular novelist: "In India there is always the flicker of the sword; whether it be the weapon of steel in man's hands or the sword of pestilence matters not-there it is; but here in England we forget it, and hide it behind bricks and mortar and much speaking." By no means hidden away, however, is this, perhaps the finest, collection of Indian arms and rare objects of art ever brought together. The room where these treasures are housed was formerly the library, and was furnished in walnut and gold, with coverings of green and gold silk; but when most of the books contained in the cases were removed to Sandringham, the furniture was remodelled to suit its present use. ollection of it, a certain gold tray from Mysore in southern India, a splendid piece of workmanship and a wonderful example of decorative art. There are enamels worth their weight, not in gold-for they are composed of that metal-but in Bank of England notes. From this room a short passage leads past the princess's painting-roomquite a small apartment that was originally a passage conducting into the garden—to the tapestry-room, so called from the exquisite silk tapestry which adorns its walls. It is also known as the "princess's sitting-room," though, as a matter of fact, it is seldom used by her. Thence by way of the main corridor and past the two principal staircases we reach the east side of the house-having, as it were, travelled round it from the south and west-and enter the royal household dining-room. exceedingly comfortable salle à manger twenty-five feet square. When large parties are given in the adjoining state apartment, this is utilized as a serving-room, on which occasions the equerries and ladies and gentlemen of the household have to dine a little earlier than their usual hour-seven o'clock-so that the room may be got ready. an Like other great mansions in England, Marlborough House possesses a plate-room. It is absolutely fire-proof, illuminated by electricity, and guarded with unceasing vigilance. The floor is tiled, and there is a good-sized fireplace. Round the walls, reaching from floor to ceiling, are mahogany cases about a yard deep, glass-panelled, and fitted with patent locks. In the centre is a magnificent case, matching the others, of the thickest plate-glass, round which one can walk, as at the Tower while inspecting the crown jewels. It was constructed in the silver-wedding year to receive the large number of presents lavished upon the prince and princess. Being strictly utilitarian, it is lined with plain blue cloth, and not with the traditional velvet of jewellers and silversmiths, and now contains some of the valuable gifts that, year after year, their royal |