opened out, and disclosed the parcels attached to the bottom. Their contents were as follows: In the first parcel were disclosed a copper frame, technically called a "frisket,” which limits the borders of the engraved plates and sheets of paper; four separate stamps, engraved in relief on wood, producing the signatures: Crousaz-Cretet, Soleil, Ville, and Marsaud; and twenty-seven smaller bits of wood, also engraved in relief, and furnishing the letters, words, and numbers necessary for the changes in the dates of issue and the indication of the series. The second parcel contained a plate engraved on wood, still impregnated with printer's ink, and reproducing the entire vignette on the hundred-franc notes. For the cartouches there were movable characters figuring the letter A and the number 66;—the date of issue complete in one instance-" Paris, 15 September, 1859;" two stamps, black and white, bearing the inscription of the 139th article of the Penal Code (the punishment for forgery), were also found, and a great number of copper pins, some of them microscopically small, showing that the plate had been submitted to various corrections, that its imperfections had been studied with patience, and that a most indomitable will had been exercised to produce a work of remarkable ability. Under the same envelope was also a zinc plate engraved in relief, with the words "Bank of France" in the upper part, and the cypher of a hundred francs. Seven sheets of white paper were with this plate, of the same size as the banknotes, on which the water-mark was very clearly apparent. Finally, in the distillery and other places, were found numerous objects essential to the engraver,-copper and zinc plates, wood-blocks already used, acids, manuals of chemistry, prepared paper, photographs, chemical preparations, and a large provision of printers' and blue ink. In the presence of all these facts it was impossible there could be a doubt about the guilt of Monsieur Giraud, but if any existed it was speedily removed by a series of experiments made at the Bank of France with the materials discovered at Gatebourse, from which it resulted that the notes produced were identical with those which had been surreptitiously circulated. All the evidence being at length collected, and every formality fulfilled, the trial of the accused was fixed for the Spring Assizes of the department of the Seine, and came off on the 14th and 15th of April last. Monsieur Giraud, who is a man of medium stature, of dark complexion, with grey hair and moustaches, and quick, dark eyes, appeared in court attired in sober black, with his shirt collar turned over a black cravat. He exhibited perfect calmness, save only on one or two occasions, when the searching questions of Monsieur Boissieu, the president, were too much for him. His general system of defence may be briefly summed up, but a few points in it will be afterwards noticed in detail. He declared that he had not manufactured the notes, but had found them in a secret drawer of a large bureau which he bought at the public auctionrooms (l'Hôtel des Ventes) in Paris, with a quantity of engraver's tools, adding, that the secret drawer contained the paper parcels discovered in the barrel, which, as they were sealed up, he had hidden there without being aware of their contents. He was, however, unable to produce any evidence of the purchase of the bureau in question, and no such piece of furniture was found at his lodgings in the Rue des Martyrs, or at the château of Gatebourse. The whole story, indeed, was so full of contra dictions and improbabilities as to be totally unworthy of credit. Moreover, the careful manner in which the prosecution was got up stopped every avenue of escape. With reference to his resources he said that, when he married, he possessed a sum of forty thousand francs, which he had brought with him from America, and that a large plant of machinery for distillation and mechanical purposes was lost on board the Grand Duquesne when that vessel was unfortunately wrecked. He denied that he had lived expensively at Gatebourse. The sumptuous furniture which he was accused of buying, consisted, he said, of what he had put in his drawing-room, the cost of which was two hundred francs. He admitted having eleven servants and six horses, but said that they were necessary for farming purposes. Of his four carriages, one belonged to his mother-in-law, and the other to his wife's late brother. He described his liveried groom as a "petit bon homme," with a bit of gold lace round his hat, and his pack of hounds were common dogs, the greater part of them the property of those who came to sport with him on the estate of Gatebourse. He had received "the authorities" only on three occasions, and, in fact, those who accused him of prodigality and luxury-not to judge them too harshly-deceived themselves. Yes, he had purchased property to the extent of forty thousand francs, but then he had never paid the money, neither did he know when he should have been called upon to do so. It was true that the lower part of the windows of his cabinet were opaque with limewash, but this was done to prevent the rays of the sun from disturbing the movements of some watchwork placed there. Only thirtyfour francs in silver were found in his house, but this he accounted for by saying that his wife-his sick wife-controlled all the expenses of the household. As to the graving tools, the acids, tracing-paper, and so forth, he required them for professional use as a watchmaker. The witnesses for the defence were numerous, but their evidence was almost entirely of a negative character, being chiefly confined to proving that the prisoner's expenditure had not been so lavish as was represented by the prosecution. When they had been heard, Monsieur Oscar de Vallée, the advocategeneral, replied at full length on the whole case-so fully, indeed, that he ripped up a number of Monsieur Giraud's antecedents, which there was no evidence either to prove or disprove. Besides what was well known, he told the jury that the prisoner had succeeded in effecting his escape from a prison in Louisiana, after being committed on a charge of forgery; and that at the Havanna, or elsewhere on the American continent, he had married a lady who was still alive. For the sake of Mademoiselle Félicité Michaux, and her estate of Gatebourse, it is only to be regretted that proof of this last delinquency was not forthcoming. The jury did not leave the audience very long in suspense. Half an hour sufficed for their consideration, and at the end of that time they returned into court with a verdict of guilty on the two counts of the indictment. The application of the 139th Article of the Penal Code was then made by the President, who condemned Alcide-Alchille-Numa Giraud to hard labour for life and a fine of a hundred francs. The last part of the sentence is not likely to disturb the equanimity or the Millionnaire of Saintonge. 637 A GLANCE AT ROME IN 1862. Ruins! a charm is in the word, It makes us smile, it makes us sigh, 66 I AM not going to write a rhapsody on ruins, notwithstanding the quotation from Mrs. Norton's beautiful poem with which I commence, but I confess that, after longing for years to visit Rome, with our minds full of its ancient grandeur, its Christian monuments, and the exciting interest of its doubtful future, we were not prepared to find ourselves in the midst of a gay English coterie. Do you know Mrs. M.?" said one friend; "she gives the best dinners in Rome" (where, bythe-by, not many are given); "will you join our party to Veü?" said another; "not much to see, but a pleasant drive and a capital luncheon at the end of it." All this was trying to people whose great interest in dancing and driving was over, and who had come romantically expecting "the Niobe of nations speechless and crownless in her voiceless to see woe.". The desolate Campagna, the glorious ruins, the maidenhair covered fountains, such were the impressions Rome left on the mind a few years ago, when the journey thither was one of some length and some difficulty. Now all this is changed. The English spend a week in Paris on their way to provide themselves with the adornments to be displayed in Rome in the newest taste. A journey to Marseilles, and the direct steamer brings them to Civita Vecchia, a dreary place, deeply and dolefully impressed on the mind by detention at the Douane. Let us hope that no photographs of Garibaldi or the King of Italy are concealed in your portmanteau, no possible combination of red, green, and white in your imperials. The eye of a papal douanier detects treason in a bouquet of red fuchsias with green leaves, and the flowers are ruthlessly torn from the white dress. From Civita Vecchia the railway takes you over the flat shores and through the evergreen woods of Italy. You see a gleam of the yellow Tiber winding among the tall reeds on its banks; a glimpse of the dome of St. Peter's against the darkening sky; a pause, a rush, and you leave the railway carriage at the very gates of Rome. The first process after your arrival is to establish yourself in comfortable apartments. No slight labour, when you consider that many of the streets in the highest, and consequently the healthiest parts of Rome, are so steep as to be difficult of access in a carriage. And the best apartments, oh, comfortable middle-aged English lady! are generally-al terzo piano-up innumerable steps. There you have fresher air, a finer view, and, what is still more important, immunity from the noise and unpleasant smells in the streets. One poor Englishwoman, who arrived during the carnival, having ascended and descended till she was weary, was told that it was necessary to drive in the Corso. Here, with a striped cloak and a mask, sedate English people hardly recognise themselves as they parade to see for once in their lives a Roman carnival, and here my unfortunate acquaint ance received a severe blow on the face from a packet of the hard confetti which are thrown on these occasions into the different carriages. With a swelled face, then, weary legs, and a bewildered mind, did this martyr to maternal duty chaperone her daughter to a ball that night. "Never mind, mamma," said the loving child, "people here don't know how your face looks in England." It must not be supposed that severe blows from confetti, such as I have described, were dealt by the hand of the gentle and courteous Roman. Those who drove in the Corso this year were almost exclusively foreigners, and a few government hirelings sent to swell the number of the carriages. The Queen of Naples was visible in an apartment within from the opposite houses, but she did not appear in the balcony. Omnibuses (provided with boxes outside for confetti) were filled with English and Americans, and the effect of those, all dressed alike in white, trimmed with some bright colour, was very pretty. These white dresses and masks are a necessary precaution; for the confetti are composed principally of lime, and not only whiten but burn whatever they touch. These omnibus occupants threw and pelted with all the vigour of the Anglo-Saxon race, forgetting the consequence to the eyes and noses of their friends. Flowers were thrown plentifully to and from the balconies, and are in fact the only things pleasant to throw or to receive, and the abundance of them at Rome at the early season is one of the luxuries a stranger most enjoys. Violets, purple anemones, mignionette, and narcissus abound, and camellias, too, are in bloom in the open air; but here, again, the police interfere. White and red camellias with their dark-green leaves, formed the dreaded Sardinian tricolor of red, green, and white, and were not admitted into the Corso without an admixture of some other colour. The carnival this year was considered a failure by all Italians—" brutto e meschino" they described it to be; indeed, so many families in Rome were mourning for friends or children banished, or in prison, that it could not well be gay; and all true Romans are sad at heart, and longing for the time when Rome will again be free. Everything seems to prove that the present system cannot continue long. On the day in the carnival when all Rome drives on the Corso, the national committee sent printed papers round desiring that Romans would not join in amusements, and allow Europe to believe that they were happy and contented in their slavery. The paper went on to desire that they would assemble instead at the Forum, there to contemplate the remains of ancient greatness, and to comfort themselves with the hope that Rome would shortly again be free. It concluded "Viva il papa non re, viva Vittor Emmanuele.” We also drove to the Forum, and the scene was very striking. From the capitol to the Coliseum, on the green hill-side, around the broken columns, under the trees, and under the arch of Titus, all was covered with one great assemblage of people, in perfect order and in perfect silence, the more remarkable when one considers the excitability of the Italian character. The whole of the middle class of Rome seemed to be there, and a great many of the higher, some few handsome carriages, amongst others that of Prince Torlonia, and numberless ordinary vehicles. It was one great silent protest against the tyranny under which Rome groans. On the Friday no festa goes on, no opera-a privation to an Italian equivalent to that of not reading the Times to an Englishman no one drives in the Corso, no confetti are thrown, there are no masks and no flowers, but the national committee again issued their fiat. "Romani,” it said, "drive to-day in the Corso and show your strength." This intention on the part of the Liberals only became generally known about one o'clock, and General Goyon, with the sympathy for the Italians which has marked the whole conduct of the French army, instantly foresaw that mischief would ensue if this demonstration were allowed. Once before, the people assembled on the 19th of March, the fête of San Guiseppe in honour of Garibaldi, and the papal soldiers used violence, and in remembrance of this General Goyon felt sure that this year "i Romani” would come prepared for self-defence. He issued instant orders to bar every entrance into the Corso. Not only were troops stationed at its two terminations, the Piazza di Venezia and the Piazza del Popolo, but throughout its entire length (one mile); every little side-street which led into it was guarded, and so quickly and effectually was this done that no one had time to enter. The popular party felt it was a recognition of their strength, and considered these precautions as a triumph, doubtless glad that General Goyon's interference had saved blood from being spilled uselessly, which they are ready to shed more effectually some future day for the freedom of Rome. English society at Rome this winter was not what it used to be. Palazzo Veneziano, where the Austrian ambassador used to receive, as the frequenters of Rome twenty years ago will well remember, is virtually closed, but that must be a source of rejoicing to all sympathisers with Italian freedom. Garibaldi's Hymn, the chorus of which is Va fuori d'Italia, Va fuori Stranier, now rings in our ears with its soul-stirring music, though it is of course strictly "proibito" in Rome, and one can but rejoice that except in poor Venice the stranger no longer rules. I was told that at Turin, when at the Opera this hymn was played the whole pit rose and joined with one voice in the chorus. The Princes Borghese and Doria do not now open their palaces to the English as they used to do in the lifetime of their English-born principesse, and Italian society is at all times difficult of access to strangers. The Duc de Grammont, whose receptions used to be the best in Rome, is gone, and M. de la Valette, the new French ambassador, has not yet begun to receive. Lady M. Alford is not in Rome; and, in short, though there is plenty of society of different sorts there are no great réunions. Having thus endeavoured to sketch the two prevailing excitements at Rome, that of the Italians for liberty, of the English for gaiety, I must return to our impressions of the great city itself. Here, at least, we find the calm and repose which we had pictured to ourselves, but not everywhere the grandeur. The want of keeping in Italian cities sensibly affects an English mind; there seems to be no consistency. You step from from a very dirty staircase into a palazzo; you look at Raphael's frescoed ceilings standing on a shabby and worn tile pavement: in short, there seems no medium between mud and marble. But once accustomed to these contrasts your enjoyment begins, and whatever your tastes or habits, you can hardly fail to find full occupation and interest at Rome. We were anxious first to take a general view of the |