LOUIS BLANC was born at Madrid, on the 28th | the Marechal Jourdan. Here Monsieur Louis October, 1813. His grandfather and uncle died on the scaffold in the Revolution; and his father, a rich merchant, was actually incarcerated and on the point of sharing a like fate, when, by the intervention of a friend, he contrived to make his escape in female attire. After many dangers and adventures, having regained a considerable fortune, he proceeded to Corsica, where he married Mdlle. Estelle Pozzo di Borgo; and shortly after was appointed Inspector-General of France at Madrid, under Joseph Buonaparte, by the Comte Ferri Pisani, the uncle of his wife, and son-in-law of Blanc and his brother Charles were born. At the age of seven, he was sent to be educated at the College of Rhodez, where his progress was so remarkable that at fifteen his education was entirely completed; and, having attained the highest honors, he repaired to Paris, where his fatherwho had experienced the most severe reverses of fortune-then was, and where his mother had died a short time previously. Finding his only parent, whom misfortune and distress had reduced to the most melancholy prostration of mind and body, entirely dependent on the Comte Ferri Pisani, who himself had not escaped in the general confusion | having quitted the paper because his desire to sus tain the principle of the execution of railroads by the State was opposed by M. Lefebvre Meuret, who was interested in their execution by companies. Such was the esteem and affection that M. Louis Blanc inspired among his collaborateurs in the Bon Sens, that, on his leaving it, he was followed by every one connected with it: He then founded La Revue du Progres, in which the members of the democratic party, such as Francois Arago, Lamennais, Cormenin, George Sands, &c., wrote, and which contributed more powerfully than any other means to the constitution of the Republican party. It was in the Revue du Progres that M. Louis Blanc published a series of articles on the Organization of Labour, which produced so deep a sensation, that, on their being collected in a book, the sale of 20,000 copies has not exhausted their success. The labors of journalism not being sufficient to occupy the intelligent activity of M. Louis Blanc, he formed the bold resolution of writing the history of his time; and, notwithstanding the most strenuous attempts of his friends to dissuade him from a project likely to bring upon him a host of enemies, duels, and persecutions of all sorts, he persisted in his plan, and in the "Histoire de Dix Ans" carried it out with such singular success, that the book has not called forth a single refutation, notwithstanding that it was written with the most unsparing boldness. The last work of M. Louis Blanc is the “History of the French Revolution," of which but two volumes have yet ap of affairs, he resolved to accept any employment by which he might obtain an honorable subsistence for his father and himself. He entered the office an attorney of the Cour Royale, and in his leisure hours gave lessons in mathematics. With some difficulty, on account of his extreme youth, and even childish appearance, he succeeded in obtaining the place of tutor to the son of a celebrated mechanician at Arras; there he made the acquaintance of M. Frederic Degeorge, editor of the Journal du Progres du Pas de Calais, in which paper he wrote some remarkable articles. At the University of Arras he competed successfully for three prizes offered, viz: for the best essay in verse on the "Hotel des Invalides," for an "Eloge de Mirabeau," and an "Eloge de Manuel." He then returned to Paris, and having written some articles for a paper entitled Le Bon Sens, and presented them without other introduction to M. M. Rodde and Cauchois Lemaire, the editors of that journal, they were so struck with the unusual ability displayed in them, that they immediately gave him a regular engagement on the paper; and, on the retiring of M. Cauchois Lemaire, which was at no great interval followed by the death of M. Rodde, the collaborateurs of M. Louis Blanc wrote in a body to the proprietor of the journal, M. Lefebvre Meuret a rich Belgian senator, to request that he would place M. Louis Blanc at the head of the paper. To this, however, his youth again offered an obstacle; and, in order to satisfy the eyes of the public, M. Martin Malliefer (afterwards principal editor of the Na-peared. tional) was appointed as his colleague. Owing, The part which, throughout his career, M. however, to a disagreement with the proprietor, M. Martin Malliefer withdrew before very long; and at nineteen M. Louis Blanc found himself sole editor of one of the most important journals of France. Here it was that M. Louis Blanc first laid the basis of the system which he has since so ably developed in his writings, and which, then entirely new, has made so great a progress in France as to determine one of the most striking characteristics of the Revolution of February. One of the most remarkable traits in this journal (while under the superintendence of M. Louis Blanc) was the spirit of independence which influenced it-whether with regard to the predominant interests or the raging ideas; and his firmness and disinterestedness are best proved by his Louis Blanc has taken in defence of the rights of the people, naturally placed him in a most conspicious situation in the late Revolution. We give below a fac-simile of Louis Blanc's autograph, which can be depended upon as genu. ine and correct. Louis Blane NANNUNTENEO; OR, THE "MESSENGER OF PEACE." A TALE OF THE EARLY COLONISTS. BY THE AUTHOR OF CHAPTER XII. "KIT CARSON," ETC. THE SECRET. PLUMP MRS. PARTRIDGE had stirred for the twentieth time the immense fire which occupied almost the whole hearth, and Jack Wotherspoon, in his anxiety to satisfy the cravings of his stomach, had dispatched the last piece of the venison which had been set before him, ere he condescended to grow communicative. Fearing lest he might repent him of his promise, Mrs. Partridge filled once more his thrice emptied tankard, when Jack commenced. "Thank-ye, fairest Moll; thou deservest any man's confidence after such treatment. The secret I have to tell thee, then, is this. But mind no blabbing, Moll!" "Oh! not a word, Jack!" 66 Well, then; but where was I, when I last left off?" "Of Master Shirley you were talking, to be sure." "Oh! aye—to be sure; of Master Shirley it , then, but mind, secrecy, Moll-secrecy-or thou knowest what follows." was, "Aye-aye-I warrant," retorted Moll, rocking to and fro, in her impatience to hear him. "Thus, then, it is; Master Shirley, or Master Walter, or Master Walter Shirley, or whatever thou mayst please to call him, is a shy lover, but he does not yet so skillfully watch his cards, but that my master is fully aware of the game he is playing." "If he be not dead, that is," put in Mistress Partridge, with a timely reference to recent events. "Ah! if he be not-and between thee and me, Moll, Master Shirley is no more dead than am I." "Where bides he, then?" besides, anticipating all those difficulties, my master has still a most powerful argument to bring in favor of his own proposal." "And what is that, Jack?" There was a noise, as of the rustling of garments, in the rear of the speakers, towards the inner door, at this juncture. Both looked around for the cause, but becoming seemingly satisfied that it was nothing more than the branch of a tree, brushed by the wind against the window, they went on. "Why, I know not that, or I may be explicit on this point," returned Jack, in reply to Mistress Partridge's last question, "but this much I may say; thy master, old Gilbert, has done that across the water which would place his head in jeopardy, at the instigation of a single person. Thou wilt not be long in guessing who that person is." "Your master, of course." "I admire thy penetration; ah! Mistress Partridge! thou'rt a very treasure of a woman, and they are few that draw such a confession from Jack Wotherspoon. If thou wert but in England, fairest Moll, what a host thou'dst be dragging after thee!" "Nonsense-you know you don't mean it," rejoined Mistress Partridge, making a feint of releasing herself from the arm which the half drunken Jack had slyly thrown round her. What would master say, if he caught us twain here, in such condition ?" 66 Say!" responded Jack, with a very tipsy leer; "why, what could he say, that I had the best of tastes, and that he'd not mind being in my boots for the once; but, steady! there's a time for all things, and, in sooth, it groweth late, and my head is not over steady this night. I'm so gorged with venison. Another flagon, Moll-just another, and I'll be going." "Glutton!" she replied, patting with an assum a good reason," he thought, "I don't know it my-ed fondness, upon his bloated and scarlet cheek, self. However, be he where he may, my master hast not had enow already? Why, see, thou has him fully in his power, and will take good canst hardly stand erect-well, well, one more, I care that he does not return to thwart him in his suppose, can do thee no harm, Jack-but this is the wishes; for you must know, Mistress Partridge, last." my master has resolved to honor Mistress Effie with his own hand, and 'twould hardly suit, thou seest, that this Master Shirley, who, I doubt not, may be a very good sort of fellow in his way, though hardly fit companion for such as us, to be present to thwart him. Thou seest?" "True; but thou knowest Mistress Effie has a spirit of her own, and is, moreover, devotedly attached to Walter; and sooner than wed another, and he alone, she'd do some dreadful deed, rest assured on't, Jack." "The last on my conscience, the last I drink this night," was Jack's reply, and almost as soon as he had said it, the ale was brought, and quick as thought was tossed down Jack's capacious gullet, with as little trouble as an ordinary man would experience in disposing of a glass of water. "That's better than t'other, I verily believe," said Jack; "but 'tis late, and I may not stay longer; yet one word ere I go; and, egad! I came near forgetting my errand, Moll-which was, to bid thee have thy eyes and ears open-especially in all that relates to Mistress Effie and her good father. Do this, and communicate all thou hearest With many thanks npon his stammering lips, the little tailor was bowing himself off from the presence of the magistrate, when his cringing back came in contact with some resisting object, and turning suddenly, he found himself confronted with the object of his conversation, Effingham himself. He did not pause, however, to frame any idle apologies, but, reaching the head of the to me, and thou'lt be well rewarded, Moll, thou❜lt be well rewarded, trust me." And, having snatched a parting kiss from the buxom housekeeper, who promised faithfully to do all that he requested of her, Jack Wotherspoon, in a decidedly "mysterious" condition, staggered into the garden, made his way to the wall which separated it from the common road, and after leaping into a ditch that lay on the other side of it, made his de-flight of stairs which the other had just ascended, vious way, with many oaths and imprecations, in the direction of his mother's lodgings. But all was not done so quietly and secretly as honest Jack" and his coadjutor had imagined; hearing an unusual noise and confusion below, Effie who had been upon the point of retiring to her chamber, had descended to the kitchen, where the sound of a strange voice occasioned her, upon the eve of entering, to pause. With a throbbing heart she had listened to Jack Wotherspoon's communication respecting her father, and the mysterious influence supposed to be held over him by Effingham, until, unable longer to control her rising emotion, she had fled precipitately to her room, and there gave full vent to her grief in In the meanwhile, Effingham's reckless proceedings had attracted the indignation and disgust of the settlers to such an extent, that, although he had come out as a king's officer, entrusted wtih fall powers to superintend their affairs, and any indignity offered by them towards Effingham was sure to be visited upon them by the severe displeasure of the monarch, they had resolved that he should know of their disapproval of his conduct, and their unwillingness longer to endure his insolence. They therefore held a deliberative meeting, and one of them, the tailor of the village, was selected as the spokesman, and sent forthwith to Mr. Gilbert to advise with him as to what should be done in the premises. Mr. Gilbert was pacing his apartment in no very agreeable mood, when the messenger approached him, for he was still full of thoughts of the lost Walter Shirley, and the distressing effect which the want of intelligence concerning him had wrought in his daughter's health, had caused him much anxiety. His face was pale and haggard, his form so shrunken that his garments hung loosely about him, and his voice was weak and faltering-forbidding signs in one so old as he. Nevertheless, his face slightly brightened up when his visitor was announced, and he heard him though attentively, without venturing any remark until he had concluded. "I acknowledge the justice of all you say, neighbor," he at length answered, "but must confess myself at a loss to assign a remedy. Sir Arthur Effingham is powerful, and has, moreover, the king's sanction to anything he may see fit to do. Nevertheless, I will see and speak to him, that he may not remain in ignorance of your opinions, which, to say truly, are but the echo of my own." he made but one leap in his terror to the bottom, and was out of sight before Effingham had had time to re-arrange the garments which the boor's clumsiness had disturbed. Effingham was, himself, not altogether undisturbed, owing to the nature of the errand upon which he had come. Perceiving his approach, the magistrate had paused in the centre of the apartment, but without uttering a syllable-awaiting until his visitor should have announced his purpose; for his conduct towards Effingham had of late been of the coldest nature. "Your pardon, Mr. Gilbert," said Effingham, in some confusion, finding that the magistrate had determined upon his opening the conversation: "Your pardon for this intrusion, which might appear unwarranted and abrupt, but that the circumstances-in fact, Mr. Gilbert, I come to confer with you upon a very inportant business. "Be seated, sir," returned Mr. Gilbert, briefly. Having complied with this request, Effingham cleared his voice, as if to disembarrass his conscience of divers unpleasant sensations which had been forming there during the last half-hour, and proceeded. By this time, sir, it is, I presume, no secret with you that I have conceived a passion for your fair daughter. This is, however, the first opportunity which I have had of disclosing the fact personally to yourself. My family, I need hardly say, are among the first in Europe, my rank is noble-my wealth princely-" "But your character, Sir Arthur?" Aye, sir, your character; your connections, rank and riches are undoubted, but these are not the only recommendations which entitle a man to the esteem of his fellow beings. Do men say naught, Sir Arthur, of your private dealings? has your conduct always been of that description which might defy the prying curiosity of the gossip tribe?" "This language, Mr. Gilbert, to one of my standing!-can it be possible that your intention is to insult me?" "Does the language, then, apply to you, Sir Arthur?" The magistrate looked keenly into Sir Arthur's eyes, as he said this, as if he would have read his visitor's inmost soul; but Sir Arthur avoided the glance-looking confusedly upon the ground. "I am not used to such cross-questioning; all men have their enemies, and it is not improbable that I have mine. But this, sir, is not to the purpose. I have named my wishes, which are such as none but gentlemen encourage. Have I your consent, Sir Arthur, or have I not?" "I regret, sir, that circumstances compel me to decline the honorable alliance proposed by Sir Arthur Effingham." The magistrate's reply was coldly polite, but it altered completely the manner and bearing of Effingham; for it gave him an opportunity of tearing off the mask, and appearing in the character which he was best suited to sustain. "Then, sir," he exclaimed, "since you refuse -nay spurn my alliance, you must take the alternative. Gilbert-alias Ephraim Wylde-you are known to me. Yet, lest you doubt, let me recal to you remembrance of a certain occurrence, which transpired not long since in another land, and to which you fondly deem that there exists no witnesses." "Effingham! great God-where, and how got you this accursed information ?" The appearance of Mr. Gilbert, as he uttered these disjointed exclamations, was frightful to behold. A look of the deepest agony was upon his face-his limbs trembled and bent beneath him, so that he was obliged to clutch a chair, to prevent himself from falling. Effingham folded his arms, and gazed upon his victim, with a look of gratified malice. Every thing had gone as he could desire, and in the end he already saw his triumph certain. With these words, the designing villain turned upon his heel, and left the apartment. He had scarcely descended the stairs when the door of the apartment opened to admit another visitor, and Effie Gilbert lay sobbing upon the breast of her father. CHAPTERR XIV. FOR Some moments both remained in the attitude in which we left them at the conclusion of the last chapter, neither daring nor desiring to break the silence which had succeeded to the villain, Effingham's, departure. At last, however, Effie raised her face, all suffused with tears, to that of her father, and a look of alarm overspread her pallid features at its altered expression. "Great Heaven! you are not well-something dreadful has happened-tell me all, dear fathertell me all !" she exclaimed between her sobs. ""Tis nothing, child-a passing fit of illnessnothing more," he replied, scarce knowing what he said. Nay-this sickness is of the mind, not of the body," she persisted earnestly; "Effingham has been here he has uttered some dreadful threat I am sure of it." 66 Why, what can'st thou know of Effingham, child!" he asked in amazement. De Lacey blessed thee?" retorted Effingham with a sneer. "How came this rumor, then? She then related to him the scene which had Was not the part of your quarrel known to all-passed between herself and Effingham, on a late did you not wed the lady he had destined for him- occasion, in which he had made proposals for her self-was not this cause enough for disagree-hand; and also detailed to her father all that she ment? Thou sayest he fell in honorable fray. Prove, then, thy words." Alas! I have no proof-no, but a limb to clear me from the stain. Yet were we brothers in our close esteem, and but for this sad quarrel-" "Well, sir-your answer?" asked Effingham, coolly interrupting him. Man-Fiend, father, that can thus rejoice in broken hearts, nor feel a pang for them. How thou comest by this knowledge I know not-but it is evident thou art resolved to use it to my disadvantage. Well-do as you will, man-do with me as you will." "Hearken, Mr. Gilbert-for such you are to all but me; how I come possessed of this knowledge, it matters not; enough that I have it; enough that, by one little word, if so disposed, I could blast forever your fair fame, and place your neck beneath the axe. All this 'tis in my power, by a warrant from the king, to do. But one word of yours will stay my purpose. Say only that you will bestow on me your daughter, and I will destroy the document, and swear eternal secresy with regard to your misdeeds. What say you, sir?" had heard during the interview between Jack Wotherspoon and Mistress Partridge on the night preceding. Her father heard her through in profound agitation, and then bade her be seated, while he would tell her a story, which would remove from her mind all doubts as to the correctness of Jack Wotherspoon's assertion regarding his master's power. "Years ago," said Mr. Gilbert, "when you, Effie, were as yet unborn, I had an intimate friend, between whom and myself there existed an understanding little short of that which binds brother to brother. We shared each other's confidence in common, and this world's goods divided equally; for both were orphans. In an evil hour we both became acquainted with her who afterwards became thy mother. Both were inspired by the self-same passion-both felt the self-same jealousy. An unlucky quarrel grew from thisa chance meeting led to words such as had been before passed between us-both were armed, and each unsheathed his sword-it was my sad fortune to remain the victor-yet ere my rival breathed his last he pressed my hand in his, and dying, blessed me. There were no witnesses "I know not how to answer; my brain's confused-grant me some time to think-fear not-yet, somehow, Effingham got wind of it, and uses I cannot now elude you, if I would." "Be it so, then; Sir Arthur Effingham is firm, but he is not ungenerous. I give you two days to reflect. If at the end of that period your answer is the same, rest assured, sir, you shall feel my bitterest vengeance !" it unto my disadvantage" |