to turn themselves-that notwithstanding my uncle Toby was warmly engaged at that time in carrying on the siege of Dendermond, parallel with the allies, who pressed theirs on so vigorously that they scarce allowed him time to get his dinner—that nevertheless he gave up Dendermond, although he had already made a lodgment upon the counters carp; and bent his whole thoughts towards the private distresses at the inn; and except that he ordered the garden-gate to be bolted up, by which he might be said to have turned the siege of Dendermond into a blockade he left Dendermond to itself-to be relieved or not by the French king as the French king thought good; and only considered how he himself should relieve the poor lieutenant and his son. That kind Being, who is a friend to the friendless, shall recompense thee for this. Thou hast left this matter short," said my uncle Toby to the corporal, as he was putting him to bed," and I will tell thee in what, Trim.-In the first place, when thou madest an offer of my services to Le Fevre,-as sickness and travelling are both expensive, and thou knewest he was but a poor lieutenant, with a son to subsist as well as himself out of his pay,-that thou didst not make an offer to him of my purse; because, had he stood in need, thou knowest, Trim, he had been as welcome to it as myself.""Your honor knows," said the corporal, "I had no orders;"True," quoth my uncle Toby, "thou didst very right, Trim, as a soldier, but certainly very wrong as a man.” "In the second place, for which, indeed, thou hast the same excuse," continued my uncle Toby, "when thou offeredst him whatever was in my house, thou shouldst have offered him my house too. A sick brother officer should have the best quarters, Trim, and if we had him with us, we could tend and look to him: -thou art an excellent nurse thyself, Trim, and what with thy care of him, and the old woman's, and his boy's, and mine together, we might recruit him again at once, and set him upon his legs." "In a fortnight or three weeks," added my uncle Toby, smiling, "he might march." He will never march, an' please your honor, the corporal :-" He will march," said my in this world," said uncle Toby, rising from the side of the bed, with one shoe off:"An' please your honor," said the corporal," he will never march but to his grave:"-" He shall march," cried my uncle Toby, marching the foot which had a shoe on, though without advancing an inch,--" he shall march to his regiment."- He cannot stand it," said the corporal." He shall be supported," said my uncle Toby." He'll drop at last," said the corporal, “and what will become of his boy?"- -“He shall not drop," said my uncle Toby, firmly." Ah, well-a-day,-do what we can for him," said Trim, maintaining his point, "the poor soul will die :--" He shall not die, by G-d,” cried my uncle Toby. The accusing spirit, which flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in-and the recording angel, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word, and blotted it out forever. My uncle Toby went to his bureau, put his purse into his breeches pocket, and having ordered the corporal to go early in the morning for a physician,—he went to bed and feel asleep. The sun looked bright the morning after to every eye in the village but Le Fevre's and his afflicted son's; the hand of death pressed heavy upon his eyelids, and hardly could the wheel at the cistern turn round its circle,--when my uncle Toby, who had rose up an hour before his wonted time, entered the lieutenant's room, and, without preface or apology, sat himself down upon the chair, by the bedside, and independently of all modes and customs, opened the curtain in the manner an old friend and brother officer would have done it, and asked him how he did,-how he had rested in the night,-what was his complaint,-where was his pain,--and what he could do to help him?—and without giving him time to answer any one of the inquiries, went on and told him of the little plan which he had been concerting with the corporal, the night before, for him. "You shall go home directly, Le Fevre," said my uncle Toby, "to my house, and we'll send for a doctor to see what's the matter, and we'll have an apothecary,-and the corporal shall be your nurse; and I'll be your servant, Le Fevre.” There was a frankness in my uncle Toby, not the effect of faniliarity, but the cause of it,-which let you at once into his soul, and showed you the goodness of his nature; to this, there was something in his looks, and voice, and manner, superadded, which eternally beckoned to the unfortunate to come and take shelter under him; so that before my uncle Toby had half finished the kind offers he was making to the father, had the son insensibly pressed up close to his knees, and had taken hold of the breast of his coat, and was pulling it towards him. The blood and spirits of Le Fevre, which were waxing cold and slow within him, and were retreating to their last citadel, the heart,—rallied back, the film forsook his eyes for a moment,—he looked up wishfully in my uncle Toby's face,—then cast a look upon his boy, and that ligament, fine as it was, was never broken. Nature instantly ebbed again,—the film returned to its place, -the pulse fluttered-stopped-went on-throbbed-stopped again-moved-stopped-Shall I go on ?—No. 152. THE CHARACTER OF LOUIS XI. COMINES. [THE character of Louis XI.—one of the strangest in history-has been made familiar to the general reader by the fascinating pen of Sir Walter Scott. For the materials of this character the author of "Quentin Durward" was indebted almost entirely to Philip de Comines, who was most intimate with the French monarch, and an eye-witness of nearly all the scenes and events he describes in his chronicle, or historical memoir. Although as a statesman, or political agent, Comines had much of the cunning and indirectness of the king, his master, he is, as a memoir writer, exceedingly frank and straightforward. His accuracy and impartiality have been admitted by all historians. His genius for narration is of a first-rate order; his style is deliciously quaint, and characteristic of the times in which he lived. Philip de Comines was by birth a Fleming, and a subject of the Duke of Burgundy, who, at that time, by holding nearly all Flanders, and a great part of France, was at least equal in power to the French king, his suzerain. In the year 1464, when he was only nineteen years old, he entered the service of Charles the Bold, or the Rash, whose father was then living, and who, consequently, was only Count of Charolais. The character and tastes of the Burgundian prince—a man o' frank violence, who was passionately fond of war, and preferred. the sword to the pen, the battle-field to the council-chamber-could scarcely suit one of Messire Philip's disposition. He left the service of Charles for that of his rival and mortal enemy, Louis XI., who promoted him, kept him much about his person, and employed him in some of the most confidential and important of his state matters. In the succeeding reign Comines was at first suspected, and imprisoned in one of the dreary cages which he describes. He was afterwards employed as a negotiator. He died in 1509, at his own estate of Argenton, in Poitou.] Of all the princes that I ever had the honor to know, the wisest and most dexterous to extricate himself out of any danger or difficulty in time of adversity, was our master, King Louis XI. He was the humblest in his conversation and habit, and the most painful and indefatigable to win over any man to his side, that he thought capable of doing him either much mischief or good: though he was often refused, he would never give over a man that he once undertook, but still pressed and continued his insinuations, promising him largely, and presenting him with such sums and pensions as he knew would satisfy his ambition; and for such as he had discarded in the time of peace and prosperity, he paid dear (when he had occasion for 'em) to recover them again; but when he had once reconciled them, he retained no pique to them for what had passed, but employed them freely for the future. He was naturally kind and indulgent to persons of indifferent condition, and morose to such as he thought had no need of him. Never prince was so conversable nor so inquisitive as he, for his desire was to know every-body he could; and, indeed, he knew all persons of any authority or worth in England, Spain, Portugal, and Italy, the territories of the Dukes of Burgundy and Bretagne, and in his own country; and by those qualities he preserved the crown upon his head, which was in much danger by the enemies he had created to himself by his inadvertency upon his accession to the crown. But above all, his great bounty and liberality did him the greatest service. And yet, as he behaved himself wisely in time of distress, so when he thought himself a little out of danger, though it were but by a truce, he would disoblige the servants and officers of his court by mean trifling ways, which were little to his advantage; and as for peace, he could hardly endure he thoughts of it. He spoke slightly of some people, and rather before their faces than behind their backs, unless he was afraid of hem, and of that sort there were a great many, for he was natu * * * * * * rally timorous. When he had done himself any prejudice by his talk, or was apprehensive he should do, to make them amends whom he had injured, he would say to the person whom he had disobliged, "I am sensible my tongue has done me a great deal of mischief, but, on the other hand, it has sometimes done me good; however, it is but reason I should make some reparation for the injury." And he never used those kind of apologies to any person, but he did something for the person to whom he made it, and it was always considerable. It is certainly a great blessing for any prince to have experienced adversity as well as prosperity, good as well as evil, and especially if the good outweighs the evil, as it did in our master. I am of opinion that the troubles he was involved in in his youth, when he fled from his father, and resided six years together in the Duke of Bugundy's court, was of great service to him; for there he learned to be complacent to such as he had occasion to use, which was no little improvement. Some five or six months before his death he began to grow jealous of every-body, especially of those who were most capable and deserving of the administration of affairs. He was afraid of his son, and caused him to be kept close, so that no man saw or discoursed with him but by his special command. At last he grew suspicious of his daughter, and his son-in-law, the Duke of Bourbon, and required an account of what persons came to speak with them at Plessis, and broke up a council which the Duke of Bourbon held there by his order. At the time the Count de Dunois and his son-in-law returned from conducting the ambassadors, who had been at Amboise to congratulate the marriage betwixt the Dauphin and the young Queen, the King being in the gallery, and seeing them enter with a great train into the castle, called for a captain of the guards, and commanded him to go and search some of the lords' retinue, to see whether they had any arms under their robes, and that he should do it in discourse, and so as no notice might be taken. Behold, then, if he had caused many to live under him in continual fear and apprehension, whether it was not returned to him again; for of whom could he be secure, when he was afraid of his son-in-law, his daughter, and his own son? I speak this not only of him, but of all other princes who |