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A Portrait of count Cavour.

--Count Cavour has so far recovered from his late attack as to be able to leave his bed and bedroom, and is expected to transact business in his manifold offices this very morning. His late complaint, for which he has been twice bled, was, happily, not of the apoplectic nature which had somewhat alarmed his friends on former occasions. It was merely an inflammation of the digestive organs. There is no doubt, however, that his strong health threatens to give way before his intense incessant occupation, strong appetite, luxurious living, plethoric habits, and want of bodily exercise. He is always up and at work at five o'clock in the morning. From nine to half-past 6 in the afternoon he directs all the business in his own departments, and takes a general survey of those of his more helpless colleagues. --Then follows dinner, his only meal, I believe, in the twenty-four hours, and, I am told, none of the lightest. He uses no carriage, but a walk from his private residence in the Via Cavour to the Ministerial offices in the Piazza Castello is but poor relaxation. Sometimes I have met him walking outside the porticoes along the Via di Po, evidently for a breath of air, but he has accustomed the world to too constant a dependency on his master mind to allow himself the indulgence even of a quarter of an hour's ‘"constitutional."’--The activity of the man's mind is immeasurable. He neglects nothing, forgets nothing; no scheme of policy or diplomacy is too high, no mean detail or particular is too common-place for him. He has an eye for everything; he trusts few men, and these generally obscure but able individuals of his own choice and creation. He writes most of his letters with his own hand. He writes a plain and distinct round, French hand, with lines wide apart — a hand of which strength and decision would not, on a first inspection, seem to be the most obvious characteristics. A French photographic likeness, lately published by Maggi, conveys the very mind and should of this greatest of living statesmen. A whole volume might be written about the expression lurking beneath every line of the half good humoredly, half sarcastically smiling mouth. It is the smile of the man who has early found out ‘"how little wisdom it takes to govern the world, "’ and whose noble heart has prompted him to rule over it for its own greatest advantage. May his hand long continue firmly to wield the destinies of his country. --Turin Cor. of the Times.

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