_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. TWO CHAPTERS ON BANK NOTE FORGERIES. CHAPTER II. In the history of crime, as in all other histories, there is one great epoch by which minor dates are arranged and defined. In a list of remarkable events, one remarkable event more remarkable than the last, is the standard around which all smaller circumstances are grouped. Whatever happens in Mohammedan annals, is set down as having occurred so many years after the flight of the Prophet; in the records of London commerce a great fraud or a great failure is mentioned as having come to light so many months after the flight of Rowland Stephenson. Sporting men date from remarkable struggles for the Derby prize; and refer to 1840 as “Bloomsbury’s year.” The highwayman of old dated from Dick Turpin’s last appearance on the fatal stage at Tyburn turnpike. In like manner, the standard epoch in the annals of Bank Note Forgery, is the year 1797, when (on the 25th of February) one pound notes were put into circulation instead of golden guineas; or, to use the City idiom, “cash payments were suspended.” At that time the Bank of England note was no better in appearance--had not improved as a work of art--since the days of Vaughan, Mathieson, and Old Patch; it was just as easily imitated, and the chances of the successful circulation of counterfeits were increased a thousand-fold.