Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 427 | Page 5

angry members, clamorous for justice
and restitution. The good lady who hangs over the doorway, in nowise
abashed at the multitude, receives them all with open arms. Indignation
is as thirsty as jollity, and to their thirst at least she can administer, if
she cannot repair their wrongs. Nogoe has vanished from the locality of
the now thriving inn and tavern of his friend Mr Peter Bowley, and in
the character of a scapegoat, is gone forth to what point of the compass
nobody exactly knows. The last account of him is, that he had gone to
the Isle of Man, where he endeavoured to get up a railway on the
Exhaustive Principle, but without effect. As for that excellent
individual, Bowley, he appears among the diddled and disconsolate
Chums in the character of a martyr to their interests. A long arrear of
rent is due to him, as well as a lengthy bill for refreshments to the

various committees, for which he might, if he chose, attach the
properties in his keeping. He scorns such an ungentlemanly act, and
freely gives them up; but as nobody knows what to do with them, as, if
they were sold, they would not yield a farthing each to the host of
members, they remain rolled up in his garret, and are likely to remain
till they rot, the sole memorials of a past glory.
The Charitable Chums' Benefit Society has fulfilled its destiny, and
answered the end of its creation. It has made the world acquainted with
the undeniable merits of 'Mother Bunch,' and encircled that modest
matron with a host of bibulous and admiring votaries; it has elevated
Bowley from the class of struggling and desponding speculators, to a
substantial and influential member of the Licensed Victuallers'
Company: it has at once vastly improved the colour of his nose and the
aspect of his bank-account; and while he complacently fingers the cash
which it has caused to flow in a continual current into his pocket, he
looks remarkably well in the character of chief mourner over its
untimely fate.

LA ROSIÈRE.
About twelve miles from Paris is situated the pretty vernal hamlet of
Maisons Lafitte. It hangs around the Château Lafitte--a princely
residence, formerly the property and dwelling of the well-known
banker of that name, but for many years past in other hands. In front of
the château, a broad avenue of greensward strikes straight away
through a thick forest, extending many miles across the country; and
parallel with the front of the building is an avenue still broader, but not
so long--La Grande Allée--wherein the various _fêtes_ of the hamlet
are celebrated, and which, moreover, forms a principal scene in the
following narrative.
Before the Revolution of 1793, the name of Gostillon was familiar as a
daily proverb to the people of Maisons. There were three or four
branches of the family living in the neighbourhood, and well known as
industrious and respectable members of the peasant class. When the

earthquake comes, however, the cottage is as much imperiled as the
palace; so the events which brought Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette
to the block, and sent panic into every court in Europe, also broke up
and dispersed the humble house of Gostillon. In the awful confusion of
the times, some were slain upon barricades; some sent hither and
thither with the army, to perish in La Vendée or elsewhere; and some
fled to seek safety and peace in foreign lands. Thus it came to pass, that
at length there were only three females in Maisons--a widow and her
two daughters--bearing the once common name. Mme Veuve Gostillon
managed to obtain a living by cultivating a small garden--the flowers
and fruit from which she sold in the markets of Paris--and by plying her
needle. Her daughters were named Julia and Cecilia, and there was the
somewhat remarkable difference of eight years between their ages.
Just as Julia had reached her fourteenth year, and little Cecilia her sixth,
a terrible misfortune happened to the industrious widow: a stroke of
paralysis deprived her of the use of her limbs, and rendered her unable
longer to maintain herself and little family by the labour of her hands.
A time of severe distress ensued for this remnant of the once numerous
and hearty family of the Gostillons; but it was only for awhile.
Julia--shrewd, spirited, and industrious--worked night and day to
perform the labour heretofore the portion of her parent, and to liquidate
the extraordinary expenses of the poor widow's sad illness, and the
derangement consequent thereupon. Steady assiduity seldom fails of
success. It was not long before she had the satisfaction of finding
matters proceeding in a somewhat straightforward manner--doctor's
bills paid; arrears of rent, such as they were, made up; and the little