Poor Louise dried her tears; the case was bad enough, but there was one consolation--it was religion, and not a rival, had cost her a lover; and so she began her preparations for departure with a heart somewhat less heavy. On the day, however, of her leave-taking, a carriage, splashed and travel-stained, arrived at the “petite porte” of the Palace; and as instantaneously ran the rumour through the household that his Majesty's new mistress had arrived: and true it was, Madame de Maintenon had taken her place beside the fauteuil of the King. “So, Mons. de Bossuet,” said La Vallière, as he handed her to her carriage--“so, then, his Majesty has exiled me, 'par la peur du diable.'” The Bishop bowed in tacit submission and acquiescence. “In that case,” resumed she, “c'est par complaisance au diable, that he accepts Madame de Maintenon.” A FILBERT FOR SIR ROBERT PEEL. [Illustration: 212] Sir Robert Peel was never more triumphant than when, in the last session of Parliament, he rebuked his followers for a casual defection in the support of Government, by asking them what they had to complain of. Are _we_ not on the Treasury benches? said the Right Honourable Baronet. Do not my friend Graham and myself guide and direct you?--do we not distribute the patronage and the honours of the government,--take the pay--and rule the kingdom--what more would you have? Ungrateful bucolics, you know not what you want! The apostrophe was bold, but not original. I remember hearing of a West country farmer having ridden a long day's journey on a poor, ill-fed hack, which, as evening drew near, showed many symptoms of a fatal knock-up. The rider himself was well tired, too, and stopped at an ale-house for a moment's refreshment, while he left the jaded beast standing at the door. As he remounted his saddle, a few minutes after, he seized his reins briskly, flourished his whip (both like Sir Robert), and exclaimed:--“I 've had two glasses of spirits.--Let us see if you won't go after that.” [Illustration: 213] “THE INCOME TAX.”