Star. — 1829-08-29 (London, England)

THE INFERNAL MACHINE.  In front of a building of sinister aspect, a troop of soldiers stood In negligent order on their arms. Some played with their mu.ket locks, while others, rubbing them with their sleeves, mechanically  endeavoured to burnish them-to increase of lustre, while they occasionally exchanged words, in a low tone, which the crowd around endeavoured in vain to catch up. Here and there the secret spies of police listening on one side, prying on the other, mixed in the curious throng to entrap opinions. Every one asked why these armed soldiers.were assembled? When an old porter of the Rue de Grenelle St. Honore, with a bandage over one eyc, and a crutch under his arm, thus spoke with an important voice : " Zooks! can't you see well enough that they are waiting for".. " Waiting for who?" said a young laundress—forgetting that  she should be scolded for coming late to work. 0 Who! who !" exclaimed the one-eyed porter, "why the •Chouan.'• they are going to shoot this morning."  " What then has he done?" cried several gossips together. " Why, he attempted the life of the First Consul !" " Bah!"  " Nothing mote ?"  " But there were several." " Oh ! the others will never more break bread : this one has been kept as a last choice morsel!" " But since the First Consul is not dead," replied the young girl, " ought they to condemn the poor wretch, who is, perhaps, repentant ?" " La! what a good creature you are! Why it was no fault of his if he missed his mark. Did he not blow up our quarter ? besides, pray wilt be give me back my eye, or refund my leg, left two months ago at the Hospital? " Oh, you were in it, then,"—exclaimed a mason. " What a fool! Was lin it Indeed? Oh, the villain ! the maimer ! the gonpowder-plotter ! I was not the only one /9 " Du not speak thus," interrupted the young girl, " since he is to die, you must pardon him." " Pardon him !sh, no, indeed !—but stay, there goes a Jarvey— its the Recorder, no doubt—we %hall know all presently. Meantime, in the depths of the prison the criminal—pale—tremb. ling—shrunk from the death he had been so ready to inflict. At the least noise be dropped on his knees, imploring for mercy. Oh, how fondly did he cling to life in proportion as hope abandoned him—how did he not curse the flattered courage which had exposed him to the dangers of his infernal enterprise ! The Judges had doomed him—the hour of execution was arrived—all was over—and—be must die—  bl.ght he hope for pardon? could he even dare to implore it 7—or could he now show to all Uurupe the weakness of the coward after the audacity of the murderer? What spirit, then—what rashness Was that which animated him—when he sought to strike at a Colossus, rising in glt., whore name was the terror and admiration of the world? Why, it was but perfidy—indeed a dangerous arm—but he whom he attacked had strength to crush far other serpents than this tape►. Hark! a confused hum has just struck his ear—he listens—the heavy doors roll on their massive hinges, and he thinks it is the gene d'arnies who approach to tear him front his dungeon, where now to live seems almost happiness. His breast Is choaked—he cannot breathe—a horrid weight overwhelms him—his eyes glare blood-shot—cold drops roll rapid down his brow. They open—be falls to the ground. Is it death? No—it is his pardon.  . . . . . • .A few years later, Bonaparte, -in -in one of his melancholy rambles at St. Helena, observed to Las Caper." I have often exerted the right to pardon, and I have always had cause to repent it." FlalAllo. It is needless to inform the reader that Pulignac i 4 the hero designed in this spirited Mtde Action.  We are assured that the acme of Monsieur Mangin is a Bawer/. This explains why we beard yesterday ■ common fellow, In an testis of rage, exclaim against another," Hold your tongue, you old manila!" Musa KO. ••• • •  • Nisht Owl—name given to certain Royalist Insolena of the Vended.