_2nd_.--The news of the day is, that Charles the Tenth has abdicated the crown in favour of the Duc de Bordeaux, who is now styled Henri V. This act might, four or five days ago, have produced some salutary effect; but it now comes too late--at least, so think those who profess to know more on the subject than I do. The position of the Lieutenant-general, in this case, reminds me of that of a _confidante_ in a quarrel between lovers, in which the interest of the absent is too often sacrificed, owing to the dangerous opportunity furnished for forwarding that of the supposed friend. _3d_.--Again, considerable excitement has prevailed in the town, produced by the proclamation, that the dethroned sovereign had determined to take up his position, with the strong military force that still adheres to him, at Rambouillet. The publicity given to this news was a very injudicious measure, if conciliation, or even forbearance to the deposed family, was desired. The populace, that many-headed monster, only seen abroad when evil passions dictate violence, again rush through the streets, breathing vengeance against the poor old man, whose grey hairs, more exposed by the absence of the crown his _ci-devant_ subjects have wrested from his head, should have claimed more respect at their hands. Truly has the poet said, "He who has worn crown, When less than king is less than other men,-- A fallen star, extinguish'd, leaving blank Its place in heaven." This fickle people, or, at least, the dregs of them, for it would be unjust to confound all in their enormities, will efface the credit they have gained by the forbearance from crime that has as yet characterised this revolution, by some act of brutality towards the royal family. But even the very dregs of the people have not appeared desirous to adopt any such course, until excited into it by the wicked rumours set afloat, that Charles the Tenth had carried off all the crown jewels--a rumour peculiarly calculated to excite their ire and meet a ready credence, each individual of the motley train looking on himself as having an interest in these national riches, and judging from _self_, of the possibility--nay, more, probability, of so vile an action. How little can such minds identify themselves with the feelings of those who, sated with the gewgaws and trappings of grandeur, forget them in the deep, the powerful excitement of beholding a throne crumbling into ruin beneath them--a diadem rudely torn from their brows--the power they wielded, even that of doing good, wrested violently, with the sceptre, from their hands; and more than all, behold the loved, the _trusted_--those on whom they had showered benefits with prodigality, turn from them in their hour of need and join their foes!