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Illustrated Article.

TALES OF THE BUREAU DE POLICE.-No. 5.

THE STRANGE DISCOVERY. For the Olio.

THERE was, some few years ago, in one of the streets leading from the rue St. Honore, an hotel known by the name of the Renard d'Or. It does not exist at the present day, but at the time I am speaking of was much frequented by persons from the south of France, who came to Paris with the intention of stopping a few days. Amongst the persons who were in the habit of residing there, during their stay in our metropolis, was a Madame Launay, the widow of a rich banker of Bordeaux, VOL. IX.

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who came every year for the purpose of receiving her dividends, and transacting such other business as circumstances might require. On her arrival late one evening from Bordeaux, she was informed, by the landlady of the Renard d'Or, with a profusion of apologies, that unless Madame would for once put up with a small room, containing two beds, she should be unable to accommodate her. To this Madame Launay replied, she had no objection for a few days, as Julie, her waitingwoman, could sleep in the same room, and when opportunity offered they might be better accommodated. The hostess curtsied assent, and Madame Launay was shewn to her apartment, where, after partaking of some slight refreshment, she, with her maid, very

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soon retired to their separate beds, and in profound sleep forgot the fatigues of their journey, and the comparative inconvenience of their lodgings.

In the middle of the night Julie awoke, and finding her mouth parched from the still feverish excitement of the journey, got out of bed to obtain a draught of water from the dressing-table. As Madame Launay always slept with a candle in her room, she had no difficulty in finding the water, and was returning into bed when her eye fell upon a handsome travelling cloak, which was lying by the bedside of her mistress. This Julie had admired during the whole of the journey, and as it had been sent home but a few hours previous to their leaving Bordeaux, had escaped the fate of the rest of her mistress's wardrobe, which was usually tried on by her previous to being delivered. The opportunity was not to be resisted; the candle burnt opposite a long glass, so that she could try it on to the best advantage. "Ah! really do look extremely well in it," said she, standing first on one side and then on the other, to see herself to more advantage," and this bonnet, too, is very becoming. I really wonder the men are so devoid of taste as to suffer me to continue still unmarried;" and with a sigh she dropped the cloak and bonnet, tript into bed, and in a few minutes was dreaming of some favoured swain throwing himself at her feet, and with most becoming importunity pressing her to name the happy day.

Her dreams were so delightful, that she would have willingly continued them much longer had not the sun, which shone with all the brightness of a clear summer's day, warned her it was time to get up and prepare for her mistress's rising. She could not refrain from glancing towards the object which had been the source of such pleasing reveries, but much to her astonishment the cloak was no where to be seen. She searched all over the room without success. Could her mistress have been awake, and meant this as a hint for her vanity. She looked towards her bed to see if she were then awake, and enjoying her surprise. Her mistress seemed to be asleep. She must then have hid the cloak in the bed. She gently turned down the clothes to see if her suspicions were confirmed, and to her horror beheld the bed deluged with blood. Her mistress had been murdered, during the night, by some one who had struck her to the

heart; and so truly had the blowb een given, that she had expired without making noise sufficient to awake even her fellow-lodger. Julie, by her screams brought several persons to the room to ascertain the cause, amongst whom was the landlady, who was so alarmed for the respectability of her establishment, that she declared none but Julie could have committed the atrocious act; and despite of her repeated protestations of innocence, called in the police, who barely gave the poor girl time to dress before they hurried her off to prison-to contemplate alone on the misfortune that had befallen herself and mistress.

Julie found her situation far from an enviable one; to be looked upon by the world as the murdress of her mistress was revolting enough by itself— besides which, there appeared but little hope that she should escape being found so, by those who were to decide her fate; since she could not but confess to herself, that suspicions were strongly against her. It was strange! very strange! she thought; the more so, as she could not even hazard a conjecture as to the real offender, who had, without doubt, so contrived, as to throw the whole suspicion upon her.

Circumstances, though strongly against her, were not so conclusive as she her< self imagined; for in her numerous examinations before the Juge d'Instruction, she had in no one instance prevaricated; and on her trial there was much in her favour to counterbalance the suspicions of her guilt. It was proved that she had been high in her mistress's confidence, having free access to her money and valuables, so that she might have executed any robbery she had meditated, without adding to it the crime of murder, which would have brought on instant detection. Madame Launay's friends, too, with one accord, expressed their belief in her strict integrity, and declared they were themselves convinced of her innocence, from her often proved affection towards her mistress, which would alone have rendered her incapable of such an act. All this had due weight with the Jury, who stated their unanimous opinion of her perfect innocence of the imputed crime.

Though absolved from all participation in the murder by the laws of her country, Julie was a girl of too much spirit to suffer the least shadow of guil to hang around her, if by her unceas-t ing endeavours she could bring the truth to light; and day after day, and

month after month, she lingered in Paris, in hopes of finding some clue to trace out the murderer. But time wore fast away, and she had been nearly a year pursuing her endeavours, without having advanced a single step towards success, and began to fear she must give up all hopes of successfully clearing herself from the suspicions still entertained by many, and leave it to the action of time, which she felt convinced must eventually bring the offender to justice.

Having occasion one day to go a short distance from Paris, she went to the Champs Elysees, with the intention of going by one of the Cuckoo which generally start from there, and are more moderate in their charges than the regular coaches. She was much importuned by two men to go by their conveyance, which was ready to start as soon as the last place was occupied; but not liking either the appearance of the men, or their carriage, she refused, and gave the preference to the second in the rank, not being so much pressed for time as to mind a few minutes' delay. This gave great offence to the men, who immediately began to play off the artillery of their small wit against her, no less to their own than their passengers' annusement, who were rather nettled at the delay.

"Guillaume," said one, "the lady thinks you don't look sufficiently like a gentleman to be honoured with her company; why don't you brush up your hair, and place your hat in a more elegant style, and then when she comes this way next time, perhaps she'll go with you."

"Why," replied the other, "I think I am sufficiently elegant to have the honour of escorting a waiting-woman in a cuchoo-a waiting-woman, indeed, to give herself such airs."

"Aye, Guillaume, but pretty women sometimes fancy themselves greater persons than they are."

"Pretty! yes, Mam'selle is pretty to be sure," said the other, and assuming a mincing tone of voice, added, "I wonder the men are so devoid of taste as to suffer her to continue still unmarried."

This seemed to please them both be yond measure; for they burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter, which was only finished by some one coming up to take the vacant place; and as they drove off they seemed repeating the sally, in order to a re-enjoyment of their mirth.

Strange, indeed, thought Julie to her self,they were the very words I used when admiring myself in the glass, on that fatal night. How could they have known them! I have never mentioned them to any one! Never-and she tried to remember if she had so done, but could not bring to mind that they had ever escaped her lips. I will go and mention the circumstance to the Commissary, who has hitherto so kindly assisted me in my endeavours; and on pretence of finding herself too unwell to continue her journey as she had intended, left the cuckoo, and came instantly to me, in order to ask my opinion concerning the men's conversation. I thought as she had done-that it was strange they should repeat her very words, and that they must know something more of the business than they ought; at any rate I would secure the men, and see if any thing could be elicited from them.

I went with Julie and some of my men, to await at the Champs Elysees the return of the cuckoo. It was not long before it came back, and out jumped the two men, ready for another excursion. They did not at first perceive the company who were waiting their arrival; but on seeing Julie, seemed rather surprised at her being still there. Afterwards, when they beheld me, both turned as pale as death, and stammered out something about "they hoped they had not offended the young lady by any thing they had said, and were very sorry if they had done

So."

I told them, on the contrary, that the lady was pleased with their conversation; that she wished to enjoy it more at leisure; and as I had heard so flattering an account of their abilities in that way, I should feel much pleasure, at a future time, in enjoying a tete-alete with them myself; and, in the mean time, would see that they had proper accommodation and attendance in their new lodgings, to which my assistants would feel proud to conduct them.

I went afterwards with Julie to their lodgings and found several things which were identified by her as having belonged to Madame Launay, and which, on their examination, they were unable to account for the possession of. But to be brief, there were many circumstances came out against them which left but little doubt of their beThe words ing the guilty parties. they had made use of, the things belonging to Madame Launay, and their being unable to account in any way

for themselves on the night in question, were strong proofs against them. They were found guilty, and condemned to expiate their crime at the Place de Greve. Previous to their execution they confessed that one of them had, before Madame Launay's arrival, got unperceived into the hotel, and hidden himself under one of the beds in the room where she had slept, and that it was there he had seen Julie admiring herself in the glass, and heard the expressions she had made use of. He further confessed having, after she had retired to bed, risen very gently, and let in his companion, their intention being only to rob the room of as much as they could conveniently carry away with them; but Madame Launay having awoke during their operations, and fearing she might give the alarm, they had murdered her in self-defence.

There is but little doubt that had they been wise enough to have kept their own secret, they would have succeeded in eluding detection; for they had prudence sufficient, when they found the murder had created a great sensation in Paris, to abstain from selling any of the stolen things, and had destroyed those they thought most likely to be recognised; but the desire of shewing off a little supposed wit, threw them off their guard, and was the means of bringing them to that justice they had so outrageously offended.

J. M. B.

SONG OF THE MATRONS OF AN INDIAN TRIBE, ON THE EVE OF SACRIFICING A CAPTIVE. For the Olio.

Vainly captive! would'st thou fly-
We laugh thy useless cares to scorn;

Our twining bonds thy flight deny!
In vain thy mate with wailful cry--
Thy long delay shall mourn,
The song of death
Sounds o'er the heath,
Thou never shalt return!

Oh! had'st thou been the vagrant bird,
Who pillaging our fruits and flowers,
Had'st entered softly and unheard-
To banquet midst our verdant bowers,
Well might thy wanton pinions then
Have borne thee far through vale and glen;
This camp is now thy utmost bound,
Where all our chiefs keep watch around.
Thine arm is strong-thy heart is brave-
Thine arrow has laid many low!

Our kindred's blood-a sanguine wave-
Thy spear has taught to flow;
Hark-hark!-in every whisp'ring gale
Their shrieks our ears assail-
And bid our warriors strike the deathful
blow !
Mrs. Kentish.

RECOLLECTIONS OF LADY

LOVAT.

THE last lady of the rebellious Lord Lovat, was the fifth daughter of the Honourable John Campbell of Mamore, who was second son of Archibald, ninth Earl of Argyll, and brother of the first duke. She was born, as she herself used to tell her friends, in the year ten, that is, 1710; consequently, at the period of her death, in 1796, she was eighty-six years of age. Like many other Scottish ladies of quality in her time, she received a very imperfect education, and what will ap pear very strange to the accomplished ladies of the present age, actually could not write till advanced in life, when she acquired the art at her own hands, without the assistance of a master. In her youth, she had frequently been in London with her noble relations, and yet had received no instruction in this common and familiar branch of education. She afterwards attained to have a neat hand, but could never spell properly. She was residing at Barnbougle Castle, with her sister Lady Roseberry, when Lord Lovat first paid his addresses to her.Knowing his bad character) his lordship in his first connexion had not been particularly uxorious) and disliking his person, she rejected him with abhorrence. But his suit being, it is supposed, favoured by the young lady's relations, he did not give up his point and it is said, he finally laid a scheme for the accomplishment of his desires, which, if our tale be true in all its circumstances, adds another crime to the dark list already arrayed against him.

He addressed a letter to Miss Campbell, as from her mother, informing her that she was just come to town, and was then lying dangerously ill in a lodging, in the Lawnmarket, which was particularly described, and the letter concluded, with an earnest request, that Primrose would immediately come to see and attend her. Lady Roseberry ordered the carriage to be instantly got ready, and urged her sister to hasten to her mother. On arriving in the Lawnmarket, at the house described, which was down a close, a servant made his appearance, received the young lady's luggage, and showed the way up stairs; meanwhile the carriage was dismissed.

On entering the house, what, was Miss Campbell's surprise, when, instead of her mother, she was introduced

to the presence of the detested Lovat, who immediately proceeded to entreat her love! She declared, with tears and protestations, her aversion to his hand, but he only persisted the more earnestly; and, to increase her distress, told her that she was now in a house of bad fame, from which, after it should be known in whose company she had been, it would be impossible again to go forth into decent society. She, however, continued to resist his solicitations, till a hopeless confinement of several days reduced her to despair, when she at last consented to the match. After the nuptials Lord Lovat took her to the north, and proceeded to treat her with all the cruelty which he had exercised towards his former spouse. She was locked up in a room by herself, from which she was not permitted to come forth, even at meal times. He would not permit her to sit at table with himself, but sent her a scanty supply of coarse food, which she was obliged to devour in solitary confinement. When pregnant of her son, Archibald, his Lordship sometimes came into the room, and told her sternly, that if she should give birth to a female child, he would "put it on the back of the fire!"

Lord Lovat's son, by his first wife, who was not much older than Archibald, was a very sickly child, and when his Lordship went to the lowlands, he usually told his unhappy spouse, that if he found either of the boys dead when he returned, he would shoot her through the head. The result was, that she made their health her only care and study, and by dint of good nursing, recovered her pining step-son, who ever after acknowledged her kindness as the means of saving his life, and looked up to her with all the filial reverence due to a real parent. Lady Lovat at that period acquired habits which she never afterwards lost; and to the end of her long life was noted, among her friends and dependants, for her skill "as an old lady of the faculty." The means by which she escaped from the cruel jurisdiction of her husband, were, we believe, rather singular. Getting possession of writing materials, she addressed a letter to her friends, informing them of her dreadful situation; rolled it up in a clue of yarn, and dropped it over the window to a confidential person, who conveyed it to its proper destination. Upon the interference of her own family, a separation soon after took place. Lord Lovat

seems to have sunk into a sort of despondency, after she left him, for we have heard that he lay two years in bed, previous to the Rebellion. When the news of the Prince's landing was communicated to him, he started up, and cried, "Lassie, bring me my brogues, I'll rise noo!" Lord Lovat was one of the most extraordinary men that ever appeared in public life. He was crafty and politic to an astonishing degree; cruel, rapacious; had great natural abilities, much wit, and prodigious talent for business; but an utter destitution of principle, spoiled in him the parts which might have composed a distinguished statesman. Any new anecdotes of so wonderful a man must interest the public, and we willingly give place to the two following, which have been contributed by a gentleman, who took them from the mouths of the persons concerned-the late Mr. Alexander Baillie, of Dochfour, and the Hon. Archibald Frazer, of Lovat.

Previous to 1745, when Mr. Baillie was a student at the school of Inverness, cockfights were very common amongst the boys. This detestable sport was, in many parts of Scotland, encouraged by the school-masters, who derived a profit from the beaten cocks, or as they were called, fugies, which became, at the end of every game, their appropriated perquisite. In the pursuit of cocks, Mr. Baillie went to visit his friend, in the Aird, and, in the course of his researches, was introduced to Lord Lovat, whose policy it was to shew great attention to his neighbours and their children. The situation in which his Lordship was found by the school-boy, must amuse our readers. He was stretched out in bed, between two buxom highland lasses, who being naked, affected, out of modesty, to hide their faces under the bed-clothes; and the old lord accounted for this strange scene by saying, that his blood become cold, and he was obliged to supply the want of heat by the application of animal warmth.

The Honourable Mr. Frazer was at the school of Pitty, in 1745, and was sometimes invited to dine with President Forbes. It will appear, from the following trait, that this celebrated man, with more virtue than Lovat, was almost his equal in political genius. One day at dinner, the President pulled out some foreign gold pieces, and said,

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Pray, my young friend, have you ever seen such before?" By this, he no doubt meant to discover if Lord Lo at

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