"The trial is over, and I am acquitted, but still in St. Pelagie; for as the government were determined to cut my head off if guilty, so the mob resolved to murder me if innocent. A pleasant place this: before the trial, I was the most popular man in Paris; my face was in every print shop; plaster busts of me, with a great organ behind the ear, in all the thoroughfares; my autograph selling at six and twenty sous, and a lock of my hair at five francs. Now that it is proved I did not murder the "minister at war," (who is in excellent health and spirits) the popular feeling against me is very violent; and I am looked upon as an imposter, who obtained his notoriety under false pretences; and Vernet, who had begun my picture for a Judas, has left off in disgust. Your friend Trevanion is a trump; he procured a Tipperary gentleman to run away with Mrs. Ram, and they were married at Frankfort, on Tuesday last. By the by, what an escape you had of Emily: she was only quizzing you all the time. She is engaged to be married to Tom O'Flaherty, who is here now. Emily's imitation of you, with the hat a little on one side, and a handkerchief flourishing away in one hand, is capital; but when she kneels down and says, 'dearest Emily, &c.' you'd swear it was yourself."--[Here the laughter of the auditory prevented Kilkee proceeding, who, to my utter confusion, resumed after a little.]--"Don't be losing your time making up to Lord Callonby's daughter"--[here came another burst of laughter]--"they say here you have not a chance, and moreover she's a downright flirt."--["It is your turn now, Jane," said Kilkee, scarcely able to proceed.] --"Besides that, her father's a pompous old Tory, that won't give a sixpence with her; and the old curmudgeon, your uncle, has as much idea of providing for you, as he has of dying."--[This last sally absolutely convulsed all parties.]--"To be sure Kilkee's a fool, but he is no use to you."--["Begad I thought I was going to escape," said the individual alluded to, "but your friend O'Leary cuts on every side of him."] The letter, after some very grave reflections upon the hopelessness of my pursuit, concluded with a kind pledge to meet me soon, and become my travelling companion. Meanwhile, added he, "I must cross over to London, and look after my new work, which is to come out soon, under the title of 'the Loiterings of Arthur O'Leary.'" This elegant epistle formed the subject of much laughter and conversation amongst us long after it was concluded; and little triumph could be claimed by any party, when nearly all were so roughly handled. So passed the last evening I spent in Munich--the next morning I was married. THE END. EBOOK EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: