He soars, he dwindles upwards; has become a mere gleaming circlet,--like some Turgotine snuff-box, what we call 'Turgotine Platitude;' like some new daylight Moon! Finally he descends; welcomed by the universe.

Duchess Polignac, with a party, is in the Bois de Boulogne, waiting; though it is drizzly winter; the 1st of December 1783.

The whole chivalry of France, Duke de Chartres foremost, gallops to receive him.

(Lacretelle, 18me Siecle, iii.

258.) Beautiful invention; mounting heavenward, so beautifully,--so unguidably! Emblem of much, and of our Age of Hope itself; which shall mount, specifically-light, majestically in this same manner; and hover,--tumbling whither Fate will.