_Old W._--Oh, Monsieur, my mother was one of the _tricoteurs_ (knitting-women) who used to sit round the foot of the guillotine, and I always stood beside her. When Monsieur de Robespierre was passing by, in attending his duties, he used to touch my cheek, and call me (here the old woman shed tears) _la belle Marguerite: le pauvre, cher homme_! We must here pause to remind the reader that these women, the _tricoteurs_, who used to sit round the foot of the guillotine on the mornings when it was at its hideous work, were sometimes called the "Furies;" but only as a grim jest. It is well known, that, although there were occasionally some sanguinary hags among them, yet, for the most part, they were merely idle, gossiping women, who came there dressed in neat white caps, and with their knitting materials, out of sheer love of excitement, and to enjoy the _spectacle_. _Pres._--Well, Goody; finish your history. _Old W._--I was married soon after this, and then I used to take my seat as a _tricoteur_ among the others; and on the days when Monsieur de Robespierre passed, he used always to notice me--_le pauvre, cher homme_. I used then to be called _la belle tricoteuse_, but now--now, I am called _la vielle radoteuse_ (the old dotardess). Ah, Monsieur le President, it is what we must all come to! The old woman accompanied this reflection with an inimitable look at the President, which completely involved him in the _we_, thus presenting him with the prospect of becoming an old dotardess; not in the least meant offensively, but said in the innocence of her aged heart. _Pres._--Ahem!--silence! You seem to have a very tender recollection of Monsieur Robespierre. I suppose you had reason to be grateful to him? _Old W._--No, Monsieur, no reason in particular; for he guillotined my husband. _Pres._--Certainly this ought to be no reason for loving his memory. _Old W._--Ah, Monsieur, but it happened quite by accident. Monsieur de Robespierre did not intend to guillotine my husband--he had him executed by mistake for somebody else--_le pauvre, cher homme_! Thus leaving it an exquisite matter of doubt, as to whether the "poor dear man" referred to her husband, or to Monsieur de Robespierre; or whether the tender epithet was equally divided between them. [From Chambers's Edinburgh Journal.] STORY OF A KITE.