Here, now, comes some antiquated trash, that will take fire like ahandful of shavings."As he spoke, some rough-looking men advanced to the verge of thebonfire, and threw in, as it appeared, all the rubbish of the Herald'soffice; the blazonry of coat-armor, the crests and devices ofillustrious families; pedigrees that extended back, like lines oflight, into the mist of the dark ages, together with stars, garters,and embroidered collars, each of which, as paltry a bauble as it mightappear to the uninstructed eye, had once possessed vastsignificance, and was still, in truth, reckoned among the mostprecious of moral or material facts, by the worshippers of thegorgeous past. Mingled with this confused heap, which was tossedinto the flames by armfuls at once, were innumerable badges ofknighthood, comprising those of all the European sovereignties, andNapoleon's decoration of the Legion of Honor, the ribands of whichwere entangled with those of the ancient order of St. Louis. There,too, were the medals of our own society of Cincinnati, by means ofwhich, as history tells us, an order of hereditary knights came nearbeing constituted out of the king-quellers of the Revolution. Andbesides, there were the patents of nobility of German counts andbarons, Spanish grandees, and English peers, from the worm-eateninstruments signed by William the Conqueror, down to the bran-newparchment of the latest lord who has received his honors from the fairhand of Victoria.

At sight of these dense volumes of smoke, mingled with vivid jetsof flame that gushed and eddied forth from this immense pile ofearthly distinctions, the multitude of plebeian spectators set up ajoyous shout, and clapt their hands with an emphasis that made thewelkin echo. That was their moment of triumph, achieved, after longages, over creatures of the same clay and the same spiritualinfirmities, who had dared to assume the privileges due only toHeaven's better workmanship. But now there rushed towards theblazing heap a gray-haired man, of stately presence, wearing a coatfrom the breast of which a star, or other badge of rank, seemed tohave been forcibly wrenched away. He had not the tokens ofintellectual power in his face; but still there was the demeanor-the habitual, and almost native dignity- of one who had been born tothe idea of his own social superiority, and had never felt itquestioned till that moment.

"People," cried he, gazing at the ruin of what was dearest to hiseyes with grief and wonder, but nevertheless, with a degree ofstateliness; "people, what have you done! This fire is consuming allthat marked your advance from barbarism, or that could haveprevented your relapse thither. We- the men of the privilegedorders- were those who kept alive, from age to age, the old chivalrousspirit; the gentle and generous thought; the higher, the purer, themore refined and delicate life! With the nobles, too, you cast off thepoet, the painter, the sculptor- all the beautiful arts; for we weretheir patrons and created the atmosphere in which they flourish. Inabolishing the majestic distinctions of rank, society loses not onlyits grace, but its steadfastness-"More he would doubtless have spoken, but here there arose anoutcry, sportive, contemptuous, and indignant, that altogether drownedthe appeal of the fallen nobleman, insomuch that, casting one lookof despair at his own half-burnt pedigree, he shrunk back into thecrowd, glad to shelter himself under his new-found insignificance.

"Let him thank his stars that we have not flung him into the samefire!" shouted a rude figure, spurning the embers with his foot. "And,henceforth, let no man dare to show a piece of musty parchment ashis warrant for lording it over his fellows! If he have strength ofarm, well and good; it is one species of superiority. If he havewit, wisdom, courage, force of character, let these attributes dofor him what they may. But, from this day forward, no mortal must hopefor place and consideration by reckoning up the mouldy bones of hisancestors! That nonsense is done away.""And in good time," remarked the grave observer by my side, in alow voice, however- "if no worse nonsense comes in its place. But,at all events, this species of nonsense has fairly lived out itslife."There was little space to muse or moralize over the embers ofthis time-honored rubbish; for, before it was half burnt out, therecame another multitude from beyond the sea, bearing the purple robesof royalty, and the crowns, globes, and sceptres of emperors andkings. All these had been condemned as useless baubles, playthings, atbest, fit only for the infancy of the world, or rods to govern andchastise it in its nonage; but with which universal manhood, at itsfull-grown stature, could no longer brook to be insulted. Into suchcontempt had these regal insignia now fallen, that the gilded crownand tinseled robes of the player-king, from Drury-Lane Theatre, hadbeen thrown in among the rest, doubtless as a mockery of hisbrother-monarchs on the great stage of the world. It was a strangesight to discern the crown-jewels of England, glowing and flashingin the midst of the fire. Some of them had been delivered down fromthe time of the Saxon princes; others were purchased with vastrevenues, or, perchance, ravished from the dead brows of the nativepotentates of Hindostan; and the whole now blazed with a dazzlinglustre, as if a star had fallen in that spot, and been shatteredinto fragments. The splendor of the ruined monarchy had no reflection,save in those inestimable precious stones. But enough on this subject.