And this brings us to our fifth measure of value, but we can only briefly state it. The world has seen enough of despotism. It is probable, too, that there will be no lack of lawless popular anarchy. In this view of things, how precious is every element of constitutional liberty! How important to have its lamp ever trimmed and burning, as a guide to the lost, a bright consolation of hope to the despairing! Only keep this light steadily shining out on the dark sea of despotism, and it will do more for the tossing and foundering nations than any rash means of help that, without any avail for good, may only draw down our own noble vessel into the angry breakers, and engulfing billows of the same shipwreck. EDITOR’S EASY CHAIR. Even yet the talk of LOUIS NAPOLEON, and of that audacious action which in a day transmuted our thriving sister republic, with her regularly-elected President, and her regularly-made—though somewhat tattered—Constitution, into a kind of anomalous empire, with only an army, and a Bonaparte to hold it together—is loud, in every corner of the country. It has seemed not a little strange, that the man, at whom, three years ago, every one thought it worth his while to fling a sneer, should have gathered into his hands, with such deft management, the reins of power, and absolutely out-manœuvred the bustling little THIERS, and the bold-acting CAVAIGNAC. Old travelers are recalling their recollection of the spruce looking gentleman, in white kids, and with unexceptionable beaver, who used to saunter with one or two mustached companions along Pall-Mall; and who, some three months after, in even more _recherche_ costume, used to take his morning drive, with four-in-hand, upon the asphalte surface of the Paris avenues. There seemed really nothing under cover of his finesse in air and garb which could work out such long-reaching strategy as he has just now shown us. Belabor him as we will, with our honest republican anathemas, there must yet have been no small degree of long-sightedness belonging to the man who could transform a government in a day; and who could have laid such finger to the pulse of a whole army of Frenchmen, as to know their heart-bound to a very fraction. The truth is, the French, with the impulse of a quick-blooded race, admire audacity of any sort; and what will call a shout, will, in nine cases out of ten, call a welcome. It is not a little hard for a plain, matter-of-fact American to conceive of the readiness with which the French army, and all the myrmidons of that glowing republican power, shift their allegiance—as obedient as an opera chorus to the wink of the _maestro_.