A rumour of something remarkable soon spread throughout the town, and a concourse of people came hurrying over the bridge, in order to be present at the expected landing of prisoners of importance. There was no attempt to repress this curiosity, for no rescue was evidently feared: a double line of soldiers was, however, formed, and in silence and gloom a sad procession was soon formed of no less than eighty-two individuals, men, women, and children, all covered with large mantles of white wool, of a fashion unseen in this part of the world, since the great Saracen warrior Abd'eraman was driven back from Touraine by Charles Martel ; the strangers thus attired took their way from the sandy shore of the Loire to the precipitous ascent of the dark towers before them. These captives were the Arab chief Abd-'el-Kader, his mother, one of his brothers-in-law, his uncle, a patriarch of ninety, whose long white beard fell to his girdle, and four of his wives. Following them came a train of attendants, all prisoners, and all sharing their master's sorrows and mischances. The heavy gateway closed upon the new guests, and the inhabitants of Amboise, somewhat awestruck and impressed with pity, returned mournfully to their respective domiciles, no doubt thanking Heaven that they were denizens of free and happy France, generous, valiant, honourable and victorious!-alas, how long to remain so! From that time a new amusement was provided for the pleasureloving natives of the pretty but dreary old town, which still wears the characteristics of the past in its acutely pointed roofs, crowned with quaint belfrys, its arches spanning the streets, its antique chapel of St. Florentin, its palais de justice transformed into a barrack, and its little Château du Clos-Lucet, where, tradition says, Leonardo da Vinci, the great painter, passed the last years of his long life, and where he died. Many a summer evening was henceforth spent by the citizens on the bridge, their pastime being to gaze curiously up towards the walls and windows of the castle; for, wandering along the terraces, which hang in mid air, might then be frequently seen, like a gliding spectre, the majestic form of an Arab, wrapped in a white bernous, with solemn steps pacing to and fro, unobservant and indifferent to the curiosity which he excited. Compassion for these unfortunate strangers suggested, even amongst those in whose charge their safety was placed, alleviations to their griefs. The Arab servants of the chief were allowed to seek provisions for their repasts in the town itself, accompanied merely by a soldier, who did not molest them. All who applied for permission to behold Abd'-el-Kader were admitted to the castle precincts, and were introduced to his presence. At first he probably felt amused at the novelty of this proceeding, but at length he became annoyed at the persevering curiosity which left him no leisure for reflections, however doleful. His spirits, too, in the course of long months of hopeless anxiety, gave way, and he at length refused to be exhibited as a caged lion, to make sport to the inquisitive. Not alone in the early stage of his captivity, but ever since he became their neighbour, the ladies of Amboise, with continuous kindness, showed their benevolent feeling both to him and to the females of his suite and their children. Delicacies from their kitchens, and little useful presents were showered upon the poor captives, who received the attentions in the spirit in which they were given. One instance of consideration gave particular gratification to the Emir. Madame de Villeneuve, the châtelaine of Catherine de Medicis' lovely castle of Chenonceau, so well known to tourists, and so often described, sent Abd'-el-Kader a magnificent plant, a native of his own valleys of the Atlas. It is related that the Emir on receiving it burst into tears. He sent back the expression of his gratitude in the following characteristically poetical words : "Too poor to offer you in return anything worthy of your acceptance, not possessing even a flower that I can call mine, I will pray to Allah that for the love of his servant he will one day bestow Paradise upon you." Some time after this, the health of the Emir having suffered from confinement, he was allowed to ride on horseback in the neighbourhood of Amboise, and the first excursion which he made was to the Château of Chenonceau, where his presence, no doubt, "Made a little holiday." and his visit has added another souvenir to the list of those illustrious and interesting personages who have made the romantic retreat of Diana of Poitiers and her rival famous for all time. Abd'-el-Kader used often to be seen at his devotions at the rising and setting of the sun. He is accustomed to prostrate himself in an angle of that very iron balcony from whence, in the days of the Medici, the conspirators of Amboise were hung as a public example to traitors. Leaning against the stone wall, he remains absorbed in his orisons, and tells his beads with the fervour of a prisoner and an exile. The numerous portraits of him to be seen in Paris, particularly popular since Lord Londonderry's letters have made his fine, melancholy, majestic face familiar to the world. He is little more than forty-five, and has a countenance which, but that Eastern countenances deceive, one would feel inclined not only to admire, but to trust. It is hard to say whether the French would do right to confide in it, but certain it is that he is the object of deep admiration. His large, mournful, gazelle eyes, his calm, beautiful mouth, and his rich jet-black beard, have gained many a heart, both male and female; but his misfortunes are too interesting, too romantic, too piquants to be lightly parted with, and the French will probably keep the lion still caged as an object on which to exercise their sensibilities, unless indeed the dispossessed owners of Amboise should take his place. Sometimes the Emir would appear on his balcony accompanied by the ladies of his suite. One of them is said to be still young, and very handsome. This is the report of a young Frenchman, whose patient curiosity was rewarded on a happy occasion, when the veiled fair one withdrew the envious screen of her beauties one day, imagining that she was unobserved, that she might the better gaze upon the fine river, and feel the soft breeze of an evening in June upon her cheek. Occasionally some of the children of the captives may be seen playing round their parents, as they stand motionless, looking from their high position. These little captives are of all shades, from white to ebony hue, and are by no means so silent or so still as their elders, for they clamour and climb and twist about upon the parapets in a manner quite startling to those who are watching them from below. Some time ago the Bishop of Algiers, passing through Amboise, stopped to pay a visit to the Emir; he exhorted him to resignation,alas! what else could he preach ?—and received the same answer as the illustrious prisoner always gives to those who seek to console him. "I gave myself up on the sole condition that I should be conducted to Alexandria, in order to go to Mecca, where I desired to finish my days. The promise was given me: I ask for nothing further, and I rely on the justice of Allah." The bishop said prayers in the exquisite little chapel of the castle already mentioned, as so beautifully restored by the unfortunate Louis Philippe, and which is in itself the most perfect specimen of art ever beheld, with its marble pictures of St. Hubert's miracle, its elaborate door-ways and vivid glass painting, rivalling the antique. A pretty little sentimental service was got up, of which the Arab captives were made the heroes, numerous prayers being addressed to Heaven for their welfare, both of body and soul. Probably the prisoners really felt grateful for the attention, even though neither the priest nor the shrine had relation to their own belief. One of the suite, the oftenest seen in Amboise, was the butcher BenSalem, who officiated for his tribe and whose office was looked upon as a solemn one. He had a fine muscular figure, with an intelligent and handsome face, and was upwards of six feet high. When he immolated an animal he might be said, as has been apocryphally reported of Shakspeare, to have "Done it in high style, and made a speech." About a year and a half ago poor Ben-Salem was found, a drowned corpse, in the Loire; he is supposed to have perished while bathing, but the writer recollects, at the time, to have heard it whispered that despair had caused him to commit suicide. The attachment of the Arabs to their chief is intense; an instance of this excited immense interest in Paris some time since. A young man who had belonged to Abd-'el-Kader, was detained at Toulon, from whence he escaped, but instead of endeavouring to regain his own country his sole desire was to behold his chief once more, and to die at his feet. He arrived at Amboise, no one knew how, having traversed France to its centre and there, his clothes in tatters, his feet bleeding, and fainting with hunger and fatigue, he was overtaken, secured, and forced back again to his prison at Toulon, without having gained the object of so much energy and resolution. How could the most severe guardians of the safety of France drive back such a servant from his master? In the month of August, 1850, a party of the Arabs received permission to return to Africa. After extraordinary struggles between their love of country and of their master, forty men, women, and children, consented to profit by this clemency. Their parting was, however, a scene of desolation, agonizing to witness. The railroad was to take back these sons and daughters of the Desert partly on their way, and a carriage filled with pale emaciated women, holding their children in the folds of their ample garments, bore them from the castle walls. The men pursued their journey on foot, a cart containing their wretched goods followed, and the patriarch of the tribe accompanied them to the station, where he took leave of them with sighs, tears, and exhortations, mixed with embraces. At the last moment a young woman, who was probably related to the patriarch, lost her presence of mind entirely,-her veil thrown back in despair, she cast herself upon his bosom, concealing her face in his venerable white beard and uttering cries that melted the hearts of the bystanders to hear. One feature of this parting was remarkable; a young peasant woman of Amboise had been the wet-nurse of a little Arab child, and was now to take leave of the helpless infant whom she had tended till, from a half dying plant, it had become strong and healthy, and full of life. For more than a quarter of an hour the mother of the babe and its nurse remained in an agony of grief, mutually embracing and consoling each other, while the innocent object of their care wept for company. At length the poor sobbing French woman tore herself away, and the train moved off bearing away for ever her cherished nurseling and its grateful but sorrowing parents. Many of the children in Abd-'el-Kader's suite died soon after their arrival, and the influence of the moist climate on all the attendants was felt severely by persons accustomed to go half clothed and with naked feet. The sisters of charity of Amboise and the medical men had many mournful scenes to go through, as the little Arab burial ground, near the "Gate of Lions" of the castle, attests too clearly. The health of the Emir himself has, it is said, of late given way, and he has had to deplore the loss of several of his nearest friends. The tenderness and feeling shown to these conquered enemies, proves, it must be confessed, that there is no want of kindliness in the hearts of at least the country people of France, whose impulses are generally for good, as we have every reason to acknowledge in the charitable promptitude and active benevolence shown to the unfortunate survivors of the Amazon, by the whole of the inhabitants of Brest from the highest to the lowest. At a moment when national animosities are so much encouraged as the present, would it be out of place if the ladies of England, by a general subscription, which might fall lightly on all, were to purchase some appropriate testimonial to be presented, as a token of gratitude to the ladies of Brest, whose care and kindness saved the lives of two of our country women? FROGS, OH! In one of Steele's passages in the “Guardian” is the following passage:-"I observe the sole reason alleged for the destruction of frogs, is because they are like toads. Yet amidst all the misfortunes of these unfriended creatures, it is some happiness that we have not yet taken a fancy to eat them; for should our countrymen refine upon the French never so little, it is not to be conceived to what unheard-of torments owls, cats, and frogs may be yet reserved." That frogs constituted the chief diet of Frenchmen was, a few years ago, as popular and beloved an article of belief among British lads, as that one Englishman was equal to three of the said frog-consumers. More extended intercourse has, however, shown us that frogs do not constitute the entire food of our Gallic neighbours, and taught them that we do not all wear top-boots, and subsist solely on beef-steaks. As, however, frogs do form a dainty dish, I will give what the Yankees term a "few notions consarning them and their fixings." Happening to be in Germany in 1846, I was desirous of getting some insight into the manners and customs of these inhabitants of the ponds, and, after much observation, arrived at the same conclusion concerning them as the master of one of Her Majesty's ships did respecting the subjects of the Imaun of Muscat. Being compelled to record categorically a reply to the inquiry, “What are the manners and customs of the inhabitants?" he wrote, "Manners they have none, and their customs are very beastly." So of these frogs, say I. My knowledge of their vicinity was based upon auricular confession. Night after night the most infernal din of croaking bore testimony to the fact that they were unburdening their consciences, and I determined to try if I could not unburden their bodies of their batrachian souls altogether. However, before I detail my proceedings, I have a word to say with reference to their croaking. Horace bears expressive testimony to the disgust he felt at it, when, after a heavy supper to help him on his way to Brundusium, he ex claimed "Mali culices, ranæque palustres Avertunt somnos." So loud and continuous is their song, especially in the breeding season, that in the former good old times of France, when nobles were nobles, and lived in their magnificent chateaux scattered throughout the country, the peasants were employed during the whole night in beating the ponds within earshot of the chateaux, with boughs of trees, to prevent the slumbers of the lords and ladies being broken by their paludine neighbours. This croaking is produced by the air being driven from the lungs into the puffed-out cavity of the mouth, or into certain guttural sacculi, which are developed very largely in the males. They can produce this noise under water as well as on land. Ovid alludes to this fact when he says, "Quamvis sint sub aqua, sub aqua maledicere tentent, In the male frog there are fissures at the corners of the mouth for admitting the external protrusion of the vocal sacculi. These sacculi |