_., **''-.. ■•%S- /\ •..^.- V 
 
 
 
 
' r'lV/'^j ' 
 
 rOLUME 
 
 
 OF 
 
 AND FICTIONS J- 
 
 BY 
 
 JI'LIA MAYO CAHKLL 
 
 rail), A( roKDiNci to l\w. 
 
 COND EDITION. 
 
 UlCI13iOIVl>t 
 
 NASH AND WOODHOUSK 
 
 
 r. •• 
 
4» 
 
AN ODD VOLUME 
 
 OF 
 
 FACTS AND FICTIONS, 
 
 IN PROSE AND VERSE 
 
 BY 
 
 JULIA MAYO CABELL. 
 
 '2^. ceil 
 
 1 
 
 RICHMOND: 
 
 NASH AND WOODHOUSE. 
 1852. 
 
 J. W. CULLET, PRINTER. 
 
75)3.3'] 
 
 GV 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 We have long desired to have a Work-House, in 
 order to rid our streets of the numerous vagrants that 
 infest them. All acknowledge the necessity of such 
 an establishment, yet no steps are taken to erect it^ 
 
 Now, I have resolved (perhaps not wisely, but 
 certainly with good intent) to attempt digging \ii 
 foundation by means of this homespun volume — 
 the products of the sale of which, after paying 
 the costs of publication, will be appropriated 
 to that purpose ; and I doubt not that the building 
 ill question being thus begun, other funds will be 
 cdritributed to carry up its superstructure. At 
 least, let us try the experiment — it can do no harm — 
 tlay, it ^hdll do good ; for if the sum accruing 
 from the sale of this work, prove inadequate for 
 the project in view, — instead of its being presented 
 to that august body of our esteemed townsmen, 
 the City Council, it will be given to the Union 
 Benevolent Society for the benefit of the poor: 
 Thus imitating the recent bright example of our 
 
worthy and gallant commandant at the Armory, 
 and thereby proving m more ways than one, that 
 his lights did not shine in vain. 
 
 With this short and explanatory preamble, I 
 
 commit my ^^odd volume'' to its fate. 
 
 J. M. C; 
 
tlOME ANNALS; 
 
 -We speak of them, we keep 
 
 l^heir names, like light that must not fade, within our bosorti^s deepi 
 
 Mrs. Hemans* 
 
 MES. JEAN WOOD, OF CHELSEA. 
 
 IVtrs. Je^n Wodd was the daughter of the Ket. John 
 Mbnciire, a Scotch clergyman of the Episcopal thurchj"wh6 
 in 17 — emigrated to this country, and was the first pro- 
 genitor 6f the numerous Virginia families bearing that name. 
 He possessed considerable talents, which hfS third daughter,- 
 Mrs. Wood, inherited. She was very intellectual, and high- 
 ly gifted with both poetical and musical genius. Of poetry 
 she has left some beautiful speciniens, which have been' 
 bflfered for the pages of our favorite '^Messenger/' where 
 they will deserve a place. In itiusic, though entirely self-' 
 taught, she acquired considerable skill, and played with taste 
 on the guitar, piano and spinet, an instrument much in vogue 
 in her day ; and so thoroughly did she make herself ac- 
 Iquainted with it, that she has heeti known to employ her lii*- 
 geriuity successfully, in restoring an injured one to complete 
 order ^nd harniany: indeed, her energy and perseverance 
 in whatever she undertook usually insured success : even 
 after she was sixty, having had the misfortune to be overset 
 in a carriage and break her right wrist, she quickly learned 
 to Use her left hand in sewing, and to write with it not only 
 eligiWjr, but well. 
 
6 
 
 The early part of Mrs. Wood's life was tinged with ro- 
 mance. She reciprocated at seventeen the ardent attach- 
 ment of a young gentleman from Maryland, and they be- 
 came engaged ; but their union being opposed by her rela* 
 tions, because he was a Roman Catholic, they separated^ and 
 at parting exchanged vows never to marry, so that when 
 she was addressed by Gen. James Wood, several years afler- 
 w^ards^ she declined his proposals, and he proceeded to the 
 West to join in the w^ar against the Indians, first bequeath- 
 ing (in case he should be killed) his property to the fair 
 lady of his choice. Fate, however, allotted him a brighter 
 destiny — for Miss M. having been led to believe that her 
 former lover had broken his pledge, yielded to the persua- 
 sions of a cousin with whom, since her parent's death, she* 
 often resided, and consented to recall the General; and not 
 until after their union did she discover that she had been cru- 
 elly deceived. Hearing of her marriage, Mr. consid- 
 ered himself absolved from his promise, and soon entered 
 the bands of matrimony also. In their subsequent history, a 
 remarkable coincidence occurs. 
 
 Mrs, Wood had an only child, a daughter who was ex- 
 tremely intelligent until four years old: she was theriat-" 
 tacked with convulsions, and owing to their frequent recur- 
 rence, grew up an idiot ; and Mr. — — , of Maryland,- had 
 a son in a similar state ! Would it be uncharitable and su- 
 perstitious to infer that these corresponding calamities were 
 inflicted upon each party by Heaven, as a punishment for 
 
 ♦ 
 
breaking their rash, yet solemn vows ? * * * * 
 * ^ To this unfortunate child she devoted herself with 
 all of a mother's tenderness and zeal, and many of her 
 effusions touchingly allude to thie deep affection she bore 
 her, and the anxiety she suffered on her account. She lost 
 her at the age of eighteen, and bewailed her death as bit- 
 terly as if she had been of those whom God endows with 
 the blessings of intellect and beauty. 
 
 After this event and the decease of General Wood, who 
 had been elected Governor of Virginia many years before, 
 she removed from the pleasant shades of Chelsea to Rich- 
 mond, where she spent the remainder of her days in works 
 of charity and usefulness ; and there, aided by her intimate 
 friend, Mrs; Samuel Pleasants, and by Mrs. Chapman, the 
 lady of a British officer, founded a society for assisting in- 
 digent widows and children. It was termed the '^Female 
 Humane Association of the City of Richmond,^' under which 
 title it was incorporated by the Legislature in 1811, and 
 still exists and fJourishes, though its efforts and financed 
 have been, since its primitive establishment, differently ap-" 
 propriatcd than was originally intended, and are at this time' 
 devoted solely to the benefit and maintenance oi female or- 
 phan children to the entire exclusion of widows, Mrs. 
 Wood was chosen President of tliis society, and untiringly 
 and faithfully performed the arduous duties of that respon- 
 sible station until summoned by her Maker to a happier ancf 
 higher vocation in Heaven. 
 
 % 
 
8 
 
 She rested frotn her labors in the 68th year of her age, 
 and reposes in the rural cemetery of "Poplar Grove/' a fami- 
 ly seat about two miles distant from Richmond. 
 
 She was brought up as an Episcopalian, but during the 
 ininistry of Dr. John H. Rice she joined the Presbyterian 
 church. This worthy pastor instituted a second association 
 bf ladies, for the purpose of working for the poor students in 
 Hampden Sidney College, and in compliment to Mrs. W.^ 
 called it the " Jean Wood Society.'' 
 
 MRS. ABIGAIL MAYO, OF BELLEVILLE. 
 
 Another remarkai)le lady of Richmond, Virginia, was 
 Mrs. Mayo, the consort of Col. John Mayo, of Belleville, 
 the enterprising projector and proprietor of the lower bridge 
 now spanning James River, a work that was at first gene- 
 rally deemed impracticable, because of the depth and vio- 
 lence of the current, but which his energy and perseverance 
 hobly achieved. 
 
 Mrs. Mayo was the intimate friend of Mrs. Wood, and, 
 like her, an elegant writer, not in poetry however, but in 
 prose, as numerous productions from her pen give 
 proof. A journal she kept during her sojourn in Europe 
 in 1829 has been found among her papers, and is ex-' 
 
9 
 
 ceedingly entertaining and interesting, and beatitifully 
 written. 
 
 Mrs. Mayo's maiden name was De Hart, and her native 
 place Elizabethtown, New Jersey. She was ever distin- 
 guished for her personal comeliness and mental endowments; 
 so much so, that in former days it was said by some of her 
 companions and admirers, that ^' in her were united the 
 beauty of Venus, the dignity of Juno, and the wisdom 
 of Minerva !" and truly, she was a woman of rare mind, 
 character and talents, and withal kind-hearted and cha- 
 ritable. 
 
 A friend has oft-times been commissioned by her to per- 
 form acts of benevolence, for which she liberally supplied 
 the funds, and has repeatedly known ber to send loads of 
 fuel to warm and cheer the hearths and hearts of the poor 
 and needy. 
 
 It was entirely through the instrumentality and be- 
 hevolent exertions of Mrs. Mayo to assist an unfortunate 
 and worthy friend, that one of the first and best female 
 boarding-schools ever kept in Richmond was established 
 here in 1812, where many of the most distinguished ladies of 
 the present day acquired their education and accomplish- 
 ments. 
 
 She departed this life| on the 2nd of October, 1843, re- 
 taining to the last her mental faculties, and to an uncommon 
 degree, her strength and activity. She had reached the 
 advanced age of eighty-two when taken ill. A few sad 
 
10 
 
 'days she suffered from pain and fever ; then her spirit took 
 its flight, we trust, from Earth to Heaven ! 
 
 Eighteen months previous to her death, the spacious ^nd 
 beautiful mansion she occupied, uninsured:, and with nearly 
 all of its contents, was destroyed by fire. Her deportment 
 on this trying occasion created both respect and admira- 
 tion, as the following extract from the newspapers ot that 
 period will show : 
 
 *^ There was no white person upon the premises when we 
 Reached Belleville, except its strong-minded and wonder- 
 fully-gifted proprietress, Mrs. Mayo, the widow of Colonel 
 John Mayo; and mother-in-law^ of Gen. Winfield Scott 
 
 hnd Dr. R. H. Cabell, of this city We have 
 
 hever witnessed a more imposing spectacle of this descrip- 
 tion. The immense building on fire, the large masses of 
 light which were scattered in all directions, illuminating 
 grove and lawn, — the large groups of people collected 
 around, — the heaps of furniture piled up at the several pointsj 
 formed a tout en semble of the most striking character ! . . 
 , . . . But the most impressive thing of all, was the 
 moral effect imparted by the presence of the venerable lady 
 of the mansion, who sat in front of the burning ruins, amid 
 the masses of furniture, without one tear, one lamentation or 
 murmur, inspiring all who saw her with the deepest sym- 
 pathy and respect for one who bore herself so firmly, so 
 nobly, under so severe and sudden a calamity V^ 
 
 Mrs. Mayo lies interred near her husband and children in 
 
11 
 
 the family cemetery of Powhatan Seat, a short distance be- 
 low Richmond; where two white marble obelisks adorn, 
 their honored graves. 
 
 MRS. MARY W. MOSEBY, OF CURLS. 
 
 The next hallowed name we select from Richmond an- 
 .nals of female excellence and talents, is that of Mary 
 Webster Pleasants, the late consort of John G.Moseby,Esq., 
 of this city. 
 
 And who that knew her can ever forget her, or fail to 
 treasure the remembrance of her virtues and genius ? 
 
 Gentleness, piety, charity, liberality, and energy of mind 
 and character, w^ere her distinguishing traits, combined with 
 talent and intellectual cultivation. 
 
 She w^as profoundly versed in all scriptural subjects, and 
 what is very remarkable, had included in her studies, that 
 of medicine^ regarding that branch of knowledge as a ne- 
 cessary part in the education of one residing in the country. 
 I have been informed, too, that her proficiency in it has exci- x 
 ted the surprise of several eminent Physicians. 
 
 For many years her ready pen supplied a number of 
 Magazines with the rich harvests of its industry, and often 
 were the verses and prose pieces of ^'Marcella'' and 
 "M. M. W.'' (her usual signatures) lauded by the most fas- 
 tidious votaries of literature : they were always filled with 
 
12 
 
 pathos and religious feeling, for they were always the spon-= 
 .taneous effusions of a brilliant mind and pious heart. 
 
 Her poem of " Pocahontas/' the only one she ever _pu6- 
 lished, was .eulogized by the ablest critics and reviewers. 
 
 In her youth, Mrs. Moseby must'^have been very hand- 
 some : the writer had not the happiness of knowing her, 
 personally, till late in life, and even then her features were 
 delicate and regular, and her countenance sweet and intelli- 
 gent; but owing to protracted ill health, her complexion was 
 pallid. 
 
 It is now time to say something of her birth and parent- 
 age, the particulars of which have been obtained from one 
 who justly idolized her, and still deeply mourns her death ! — 
 from her husband. 
 
 She was born on the 25th of April, 1792^ and was the 
 daughter of Mr. Robert Pleasants, of Curls, in Henrico 
 county, whose father (also named Robert) w^ one of the 
 most distinguished members of the society of ^^ Friends" in 
 Virginia. 
 
 Her mother w^as Miss Elizabeth Randolph, of Tuckahoe, 
 the daughter of Col. Thomas Mann Randolph, and the sis- 
 ter of Col. T. M. Randolph, (formerly Governor of Vir- 
 ginia,) and of Mrs. David Meade Randolph^ Mrs. Harriet 
 Hackley, and Mrs. Virginia Carey. 
 
 At nine years of age, Mrs. Moseby was left an orphan, but 
 the loss of her parents was almost suppVied by her venerable 
 paternal grandfather. Being exceedingly strict i|^ his reli- 
 
13 
 
 gious principles, he sent her, when old enough, to his brother^ 
 (Mr. Samuel Pleasants, of Philadelphia,) with directions 
 that she should be placed at Weston School, which was 
 tinder the superintendance of persons of his profession of 
 jfaith ; but notwithstanding these precautions, after her 
 marriage she followed the dictates of her conscience arid 
 embraced the Episcopalian religion. 
 
 She resided seven years at Weston, and received every 
 advantage that the most careful education could bestow ; and 
 tliat the good seed was sown upon a rich and grateful soil, 
 was plainly evinced by her refinement of mind and manners, 
 her agreeable conversation and useful habits. 
 
 At eighteen she bestowed her heart and hand upon Mr. 
 Moseby : they were blessed with children, and for many 
 years enjoyed ease, happiness and prosperity. But the evil 
 day came at last ! 
 
 Like mariy others, they were destined to prove experi- 
 mentally, that *• Riches make unto themselves wings and 
 flee away.'^ .' . . . Necessity demanded the sacrifice, 
 and they parted with their pleasant rural residence on the 
 banks of James river, and located themselves in a small 
 llouse in Richmond. 
 
 In this season of trial, the virtues of Mrs. Moseby shone 
 with a lustre brighter than ever, and gained her still farther 
 the esteem and love of those who witnessed her fortitude, and 
 cheerful fulfilment of every duty, in the midst of reverses 
 so sudden and great ! 
 
14 
 
 It was in 1842 that to these were added the failure of her 
 health. She was attacked with disease of the heart ; and 
 although the most skillful physicians were consulted, and 
 unremitting attentions paid to her case, and every exertion 
 made for her restoration, all w^ere in vain. In the City 
 of Richmond, on the 19th of November, 1844, her sainted 
 spirit took its flight ! 
 
 The following lines are a feeble tribute to her memory : 
 
 Thou art gone where no ills can beset thee, 
 Where friends re-iimte ne'er to part ; 
 
 Thou art gone ! — but I ne'er will forget thee— 
 Thine image is graved on my heart. 
 
 Like the warm breath of spring-time, bestowing 
 New life on the foliage of earth — 
 
 So affection within my breast glowing, 
 Sweet musings about thee, call forth. 
 
 And I see thee in dreams, with bright spirits, 
 
 Whose rapturous anthems arise 
 In rich chorus, with saints who inherit 
 
 Their promised rewards in the skies. 
 
 There the arms of the Saviour enfold thee — 
 Oh, the thought is a balm for all grief! 
 
 And 'tis thus — yes, 'tis thus I behold thee 
 In visions dehghtful, though brief. 
 
LETTERS FROM A SISTER. 
 
 The acting personages in the following letters are ficti- 
 tious characters ; but the circumstances marrated are found- 
 ed on fact, and the descriptions strictly correct. The wri- 
 ter visited the scenes and places described, and has merely 
 changed a journal she kept at the time, into the form of a 
 correspondence. 
 
 LETTER FIRST. 
 
 Voyage — Havre de Grace — Light Houses — Frescati Bathsy and 
 Sea BatJiing — Tower of Francis the First. 
 
 Havre de Grace, . 
 
 My Dear Jane : 
 
 The la^t wave of your handkerchief, when we parted 
 from you at Southampton, made me feel quite sad for some 
 time ; but the bustling scene around me at length diverted 
 my thoughts from their gloomy course, and I emj)loyed my- 
 self in observing the rapid movements of the sailors, as they 
 obeyed the orders of their captain, w^ho had the voice of a 
 3tentor^ and took no pains to soften it. Our fellow passen- 
 gers were an elderly gentleman and his two sons, whom he 
 was going to place at a boarding-school near Havre. We 
 reached this celebrated port in the evening, and I am happy 
 
 to tell you {now that it is over^) not without an adventure. 
 b2 
 
16 
 
 Our parents and Edgar were not very sea-sick, but alas ! 
 for Sigismund and myself! we were the Jobs of the party. 
 I mean as regards suffering, not patience ; for of the last 
 we both stood in need. I already detest the sea, and dread 
 re-crossing it. But all this time you are unacquainted with 
 our adventure ; it was this. When within a few miles of 
 Havre, a sudden squall arose, and for more than an hour 
 our situation was truly terrifying. Fortunately the wind 
 blew from the land, or we should have been wrecked on the 
 " iron-bound coast/' which was very near us. The sails of 
 our small vessel flapped with such violence, that the captain 
 says they must have been torn to pieces if they had not been 
 perfectly new. 
 
 We have occupied ourselves since our arrival here, 
 in walking about the town and riding in its neigh- 
 borhood. Yesterday we visited the two light-houses on 
 Cape la Heve, and ascended one of them to view from its 
 roof the surrounding country, which is beautiful, and bound- 
 ed on three sides by the ocean. We purchased of an old 
 woman, residing in the light-house, some specimens of shell 
 work ; and I chose for you a little dog, ingeniously made 
 of small white shells, whose tiny black eyes shine as brightly 
 as your own. 
 
 This morning we surveyed t)ie Frescati Baths, and 
 the reservoir for oysters in front of them. The baths 
 are kept in elegant order, and the spacious mansion 
 containing them presents a handsome exterior, I did not 
 
17 
 
 relish the oysters ; they taste of copperas, like those we 
 get at home — and this is natural enough, as they come out 
 of the same waters. On the shore, contiguous to the ba- 
 thing establishment, we witnessed the amusing spectacle of 
 ladies and gentlemen in Turkish costume, struggling in the 
 briny element, whose billows almost threw them down, al- 
 though supported by the arms of sturdy sailors, and clinging 
 to ropes suspended from stakes on the beach. Last night 
 we w^nt to the theatre, and were niuch entertained by the 
 performance of Lepeintre, an excellent comic actor from 
 Paris. Havre is enclosed by lofty vfalh, outside of which 
 are deep moats, and the borders of these are covered with a 
 bright verdure. In the town there js a pleasant walk sha- 
 !^ed by lime trees, and the square in front of the theatre is 
 laid off in gravel walks, with seats on each side. Here the 
 gentry of the city, and hosts of children, with their nurses 
 to guard them, assemble every afternoon.. It is also used for 
 a military band to play there at sunset. The most interest- 
 ing object in Havre is an old structure called the " Tower 
 of Francis the First,- ■ in which that monarch was sumptu- 
 ously feasted by the [primeval] inhabitants of this place, 
 ihree centuries ago. But money must have been of extreme 
 value, and provisions very cheap in thai age, as it is said 
 |:he banquet cost only thirty pounds ; or perhaps what then 
 wa? considered a jTea.^?^, would in these days of luxury be 
 thought an ordinary meal. The following anecdote will 
 
 give you an idea of the strength of the edifice. A crazy 
 b3 
 
18 
 
 soldier once shut himself up in it while the garrison wer^ 
 dining, and although he was strongly besieged, maintained 
 possession for two hours ere he was overcome. 4^s we arQ 
 to rise at five o'clock to-morrow morning, for the purpose of 
 embarking for Rouen in the steamboat, I must retire to rest. 
 Accept our love, and remember us affectionately to aunt 
 Margaret and Albert. I hope you had a safe journey from 
 Southampton, and found all well at the Lodge. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 LpONTINE. 
 
 LETTER SECOND. 
 
 The Seine — QuiUeheuf—Cand check — Curious Rile at the Villaoe 
 of St. Arnold — La Mailleraie — Abbey of Jamicges — Charles 
 the Seventh and Agnes Sorrel — Chateau of Jlobert le Diahle—r 
 Arrival at Rouen, 
 
 RoUEN; . 
 
 My Dear Jane : — 
 
 What a silly creature you are, to be sure ! — to have pre- 
 ferred the shades of Morren Lodge, and the company of 
 good aunt Margaret, (not to say that of somebody else, for 
 fear of a blush,) to accompanying us in our present tour ! I 
 am more and more enchanted as we proceed, and cannot 
 help bewailing your decision, whenever we are partaking 
 of any })leasnrG or amusement. 'Tis true, yo^ lell ug {hi\i 
 
19 
 
 after your marriage next spring, Albert intends visiting the 
 continent ; but dear me ! how many things may occur in 
 the mean-while to alter your plans. Nay, the knot may 
 never be tied — for its no "" wonder of wonders" now-a- 
 days for lads and lasses to change their minds. And should 
 you prove a ^^ constant couple," and the wedding take 
 place, I doubt that Albert will be able to tear himself from 
 his books and musty parchments. You know I've often told 
 you, that he never would have fallen in love with your lady- 
 ship, I'm convinced, had he not surprised you that eventful 
 morning in papa's study, reading the life of the American 
 President, Thomas Jefferson, while the rest of us were play- 
 ing at battledore orir the lawn ; and this you may tell him 
 if you choose. '* Wellj enough of rattle,' Leontine, (I hear 
 you say,) and do let's have something interesting." So you 
 shall, sister Jane ; and I hasten to give you an account of 
 our voyage from Havre to this ancient capital. It was de- 
 lightful! We were favored with clear skies and propitious 
 breezes, and remained on deck the whole day to enjoy the 
 scenery, for the banks of the Seine are highly cultivated, 
 and at every turn present beautiful points of view. We gli- 
 ded by many villages, and several monasteries and castles. 
 Among the former I will only mention Quillebeuf and Can- 
 debeck. Quillebeuf is famous for its ninety-nine pilots ; and 
 as the navigation there is extremely dangerous for vessels, 
 they have full employment. It is remarkable that their num- 
 ber has always been ninety-nine from time immemorial. Can- 
 
20 
 
 debeckis situated immediately on the bank of the river, and 
 Vernet; the celebrated marine painter, pronounced the view 
 from its cfuay one of the most beautiful water prospects in^ 
 France. An old lady on board the steamboat told mamma 
 and myself, as we were passing Candebeck, that a few miles' 
 from it there is a village called St. Arnold, which dontaiiis^ 
 a pool of stagnant water, that many credulous people be- 
 lieve effidacious in healing cutaneous diseases, and that at a 
 certain period of the year, numbers who are afflicted wiffi 
 such disorders go to bathe in the pool. First, however, a' 
 particular cer6m6hy must be performed, or the water will 
 have no effect. Each applicant for health must steal from* 
 the neighboring woods a stick, and cast it down to assist irf 
 forming d pile. In the evening this is set on fire by the cu- 
 rate of the village, who comes forth dressed in his sacer- 
 dotal robes, and accompanied by priests chanting a hymn. 
 When the sinoke begins to darken the air, a white pigeon 
 is let loose f^roih the spire of the church, and the poor delu- 
 ded sufferers fii^mly believe it to be the holy ghost descend- 
 ing from Heaven to cure them ! Quillebeuf and Candebeck 
 are both associated with historical recollections. The for- 
 mer was fortified by Henry the Fourth, who considered it 
 an important point, and wished to have it called Henry's- 
 ville, after himself. This was not donCj however, and since 
 his death the fortifications have been destroyed. It was at 
 Candebeck that William the Conquerer crossed the Seine in 
 1047, on his way to Arqucs, to quell a sedition among tl;e 
 
21 
 
 people there, under the Count of Arques. It was governed 
 by the famous Talbot during the reign of Henry the Fifth 
 of England, and the inhabitants distinguished themselves by 
 their bravery in a combat with the English. At one period 
 it was noted for its manufactures of hats and gloves J and 
 at that time no one of bon ton would wear a hat that was 
 not made at Candebeck. The revocation of the edict of 
 Nantz proved a death-blow to the industry of this town. 
 Soon after leaving it, we passed the Chateau of La Maille- 
 raie, once the residence of Mademoiselle De la Yalliere, du- 
 ring her youth. The mansion is spacious, and its gardens 
 and thickets looked very inviting. In 1824 the Duchess of 
 Berri visited this retreat, and breakfasted in the garden ; 
 and to commemorate this circumstance, a white niarble col- 
 umn has been erected there. I wonder they did not sur- 
 mount it with a coffee-pot. Beyond La Mailleraie the sce- 
 nery is rather monotonous, but at length you approach the 
 Abbey of Jamieges, (founded by St. Philibert,) and the land- 
 scape becomes lovely. This noble ruin, with its numerous 
 Gothic windows, was a majestic spectacle. Being situated 
 on a peninsula, round which our course extended, we had a 
 view of it for a considerable time ; at last, to my regret, it 
 faded from our sight. Charles the Seventh built a fine villa 
 in the neighborhood of Jamieges, and here the beautiful, but 
 sinful and unhappy Agnes Sorrel, resided. At her death 
 her heart was deposited in the Abbey, and her body carried 
 {o Loches, ^vhpre it was interred whh orcat cpremony 
 
22 
 
 in the choir of the collegiate church; for Agnes had been 
 extremely munificent to the canons of Loches, giving them 
 two thousand crowns and quantities of jewels, tapestry and 
 pictures ; and these crafty ecclesiastics paid her remains all 
 due respect during the life of Charles the Seventh, her royal 
 lover ; but after his demise, while Louis the Eleventh was 
 visiting their church, knowing that he detested Agnes, and 
 designing to flatter him, they pointed out her tomb and re- 
 quested permission to have it removed. '^ I consent,'^ re- 
 plied the monarch, (indignant at their duplicity and ingrati- 
 tude,) ^'but you must first restore the riches she lavished upon 
 you." The last object I wdll now describe to you is the 
 Chateau of ^' Robert le Diable/^ a wicked wretch, whose 
 crimes sullied the earth, and whose spirit is believed by the 
 superstitious still to haunt the places that ^vitnessed them. 
 The scanty remains of his fortress are just visible on a rocky 
 height on the southern bank of the Seine. Beneath the 
 steep you behold a La Vacherie, a neat little country seat 
 that is worthy of notice, as being the residence of Madame 
 Bocage when she composed her " Columbiade.'' We landed 
 at Rouen about six o'clock, and are located in a comfortable 
 hotel, where papa says we will remain until we have seen 
 all the curiosities of this interesting old cit)^ You will 
 therefore hear from me again ere our departure. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 Leoxtine. 
 
23 
 
 LETTER THIHD. 
 
 jbescription of Rouen — Cathedral — Church of St Ouen — Picture 
 Gallery and Library in the Hotel de Ville — Square of Joan of 
 Arc — Theatre — Dress of the Norman Peasants^ 
 
 Rouen, — — . 
 
 My Dear Jane; — 
 
 According to your request and niy propensity to scrib- 
 bling, I intend tO'be very circumstantial in my details. Pray 
 don't grow tired of them, or if you do, keep it a secret, and 
 i!ny vanity may prevent my suspecting such a misfortune. 
 Mamma gives me great credit for being so industrious with 
 Aiy pen. Sigismund and' Edgar keep a journal 5 but that 
 requires more exactness than I possess, so I prefer writing tl 
 letter when the humor takes me. We have be^n out sight-' 
 seeingy every morning and afternoon, until to-day. A brisk 
 i^ain now confines us to the house, and affords me leisure 
 for again conversing with you. I will commence my agree- 
 able task with a description of the town. Its environs are' 
 beautiful, but the interior rather gloomy — the streets ar^' 
 generally so narr6w and the houses so old. It was formerly 
 surrounded by walls and moats ; the walls have been pulled 
 down, and the moats filled up and converted into public 
 walks. At Rouen, the ancient Dukes of Normandy held their 
 Courts, and it contains many vestiges of their magnificence. 
 The palace of justice is a vast Gothic structure of the reign 
 of Louis the Twelfth. Beneath it arc prisons, to which they 
 
u 
 
 were conducting two culprits as we entered. One of its va- 
 rious halls is of immense extent, and has a lingular vaulted 
 6eiling, that reminds you of the hulk of a vessel reversed — 
 a comparison, by the bye, that is not original with me. The 
 venerable cathedral, with its lofty spire and painted win- 
 dows, engaged us a long while. The spire is three hundred 
 and eighty feet high, and visible seven or e^ht leagues. 
 There are two towers ; one of them denomriiated the butter 
 tbWer, because the expense of erecting it was defrayed with 
 money that had been paid by the people for permission to 
 eat butter during lent ! It contained an enormous bell, nearly 
 equal in size to that at Moscow, and the founder of it is said 
 to have died in an ecstacy at its completion. This wonder- 
 ful bell was destroyed during the revolution. Many illus- 
 trious persons are buried in the cathedral. Among them, 
 Henry the Fifth of France, Richard Cour de Lion/ the 
 Diike of Bedford, and the Cardinals of Amboise. The mon- 
 umisnt of the two Cardinals is superb, and covered with ara- 
 besque work. They are represented kneeling on its sum- 
 mit. Above theni is a gilded equestrian statue of St. 
 George, their patron ; below them (ranged in niches on the 
 front of the tomb) are small marble figures, emblematical of 
 the virtues they possessed. Opposite this mausoleum is 
 another, equally remarkable. It is dedicated to the Grand 
 Seneschal Breze, the husband of Diana of Poitiers, and Go- 
 vernor of Rouen in the sixteenth century. Of the numer- 
 ous statues that adorn this tomb; that which represents the 
 
25 
 
 Seneschal as an extended corpse is the most striking, and it 
 is inimitably executed. The pinched nose, tight drawn 
 skin, hpllpw cheeks, and sunken eyes, give it the exact ap- 
 pearance of a dead body. Over the grand altar of the 
 church hangs a fine painting, by Phihp de Champagne ; the 
 subject of it is the adoration of the Magi, and the light is 
 ingeniously and beautifully reflected from the infant Jesus, 
 (the light of the world,) upon the surrounding objects. But 
 enough of the cathedral, Aliens a Saint Ouen, famous for 
 its fine interior perspective, w^iich is curiously and per- 
 fectly delineated by reflection on the surface of the holy 
 water, in the baptismal font, near the chief portal of the 
 church. St. Ouen was originally a Benedictine abbey. Its 
 architect, Berneval, is buried in one of the chapels, and 
 there is an improhahle tradition concerning him, viz : that 
 he was hung for assassinating his apprentice, who, by ex- 
 celling him in carving some trifling ornament for the ceil- 
 ing, had excited his jealousy. The painted windows of 
 St. Ouen are beautiful, and shed a mellow lustre over its tri- 
 ple aisle, which we regretted to exchange for the glare of 
 the sun without ; but time pressed, and we hastened 
 view the picture gallery and public library in the Hotel 
 de Ville — neither of them extensive, though worthy of 
 examination. We next proceeded to the square of Joan of 
 Arc, where a statue of her is erected on the spot upon 
 which she w^as burnt as a sorceress in 1430. Last night 
 we went to the play. The theatre is a handsome edifice. 
 
26 
 
 and the ceiling exhibits the apothesis of Pierre Corneille. 
 You behold him crowned by tragedy, while painting and 
 sculpture vie in copying his features, and fame sounds his 
 praise to the world. Apollo sheds over him his brightness, 
 and time with his scythe drives away envy and other evil 
 genii inimical to his glory. The ladies here dress well and 
 tastefully, but the costume of the peasants is very queer. It 
 is the same throughout Normandy. They wear high 
 crowned muslin caps, tight boddices^ full plaited short petti- 
 coats garnished with rows of black velvet, blue stockings 
 clocked with red, and black sharp-toed shoes, cut low on the 
 instep, and ornamented with rosettes. They always have a 
 gold cross, suspended from a black ribbon encircling the 
 neck, and a pair of gold earrings. But here am I continuing 
 to scribble, and the weather has cleared off and the carriage 
 is ordered for a drive, and I verily believe coming to the 
 door. There ! papa calls me to descend. In haste, fare- 
 well. 
 
 Leontine. 
 
 LETTER FOURTH. 
 
 Bridge of Boats at Rouen — Ancient Custom — Old Tower and 
 Town Clock — Church of St. Paid — Jugglers and Tumblers, 
 
 RoUEN, . 
 
 Dear .Tank : — 
 
 ^' Another letter from Rouen !" you'll exclaim ; yes, my 
 
 II 
 
27 
 
 dear sister, even so, — for papa being v^ell pleased with 
 our accommodations here, and finding the town contains 
 more curiosities than travellers are usually aware of, we 
 Jbave thus prolonged our stay ; but to-morrow go we must, 
 as our seats are engaged in the diligence for Paris. Since 
 I wrote you three days ago, we have seen divers other ob- 
 jects worthy of notice, though not so interesting as those I 
 have described to you. To-day we saw the bridge of boats 
 which connects the city with the suburbs of Saint Severe; it 
 rises and falls with the tide, and is divided into compart- 
 ments that can be easily separated for ships to pass through 
 at any moment. The invention of this bridge is attributed 
 to an Augustin monk. A handsome stone bridge is now 
 building over another part of the Seine. 
 
 Every evening at 9 o'clock w^e hear the tones of a clear 
 sonorous bell, sounding what is termed the "re^rea/.'' 
 This is merely the continuation of an ancient custom, 
 practised during the Norman wars, when it w^as necessary 
 to give a signal for those persons who might be without the 
 city to enter, ere the gates were shut for the night. This 
 bell is also rung on occasions of public ceremonies, festivi- 
 ties, or calamities, and is called the silver bell, because, ac- 
 cording to tradition, it was made of money raised from taxes. 
 It hangs in the belfry of a curious old Gothic tower, whose 
 archway spans one of the chief streets of Rouen, and on the 
 side of which is placed the city clock, resembling the face 
 of a gigantic watch. This afternoon we purpose visiting 
 
28 
 
 the botanical garden, and after that.'taking a farewell drive 
 in the neighborhood of the town ; there are many beautiful 
 prospects to be seen from the surrounding hills. 
 
 Yesterday Edgar and myself walked to the terrace of §t. 
 Paul, a plain and antique little church, built, it is said, on the 
 ruins of a temple of Adonis. From the terrace you enjoy a 
 jfine view ; and near it is a mineral spring, the second in 
 Rouen. Here we met wuth a number of ladies and gentle- 
 men, and w^ere much diverted at the tricks of a fellow who 
 mimicked the peculiarities of different nations; and when 
 about to show off the English^ cried out, " Maintenant 
 pour ^ Got dam ;' '' he made the most ridiculous faces you 
 can imagine, and excited great mirth. It was surprising 
 w^hat power of muscle and expression he possessed ; one 
 moment his nose appeared turned up, his .eyes squinting and 
 his mouth too small to admit a plum ; the next, you'd think 
 he could take in a melon — and his physiognomy would so 
 completely change, that you could scarcely believe it was 
 the same person before you. Sometimes, to increase the 
 effect, he put on a huge pair of spectacles and sung a 
 droll song, a companion playing merrily on the violin all the 
 while, and suiting the melody to the performance. After 
 this came a band of tumblers, and three children tawdrily 
 dressed — exhibited sundry feats on the back of a chair, and 
 on the head and shoulders of a man. It was painful to be- 
 hold the little creatures in such jeopardy ; and having con- 
 
29 
 
 tributed our sous for their benefit, we quitted the scene. 
 Adieu. 
 
 LEON-flNfi. 
 
 LETTER FIFTH. 
 
 Paris — Modes of Living — Rue cle la Paix^-Place Vendome — 
 Rue Castiglione — Garden of the Tuilcries — Louvre — Italian 
 Boulevard — Dress of the Ladies — Soiries — Admiralty — Made- 
 moiselle Mars, 
 
 PariSj . 
 
 Dear Jane : — 
 
 Not a questional pray you ! about the journey from Rouen 
 hither. I can only tell yoti that we chose the lower route ; 
 that the prospects were lovely, and the diligence rolled rap- 
 idly along the banks of the Seine ; that we stopped only to 
 swallow our meals as quickly as possible, and had not time 
 to examine any thing. We entered Paris by the Porte de 
 Neuilly and Champs Elysees, at dusk, and witnessed the 
 beautiful sight the latter presents, when illuminated by its 
 numerous lamps, which, instead of being fixed on posts, were 
 suspended high above our heads from ropes swung across 
 the road. The resemblance of these lamps, when hghted to 
 a range of brilliant stars, occasions the gate by which we 
 entered to be called the ^' barriere de I'etoile." We found 
 rooms ready for us, papa having written to request Mr. 
 
yo 
 
 Dorval to engage a suite in the pleasantest quarter of the 
 city. 
 
 Here there are four modes of living customary among' 
 visiters. First, boarding in a hotel by the day/ week, or 
 month : second, boarding at a lodging house by the week^ 
 month or year : third, hiring furnished apartments and eat- 
 ing at a restaurateur's, or being supplied thence : fourth, 
 furnishing rooms yourself, and having your ovi'-n cook. The 
 first of these plans, being the least troublesome, we have 
 preferred. It is, however, more expensive than either of 
 the others. Our hotel is delightfully situated, and com- 
 mands a view of the Italian Boulevard and of the Rue de la 
 Paix, at the corner of which it stands; the latter, one of 
 the widest and handsomest streets in the metropolis. From 
 our windows we can also see the ^^ Place Vendome," with^ 
 its superb and stately bronze column, erected by Napoleon, 
 in imitation of that of Trajan at Rome. It is made of the' 
 cannons taken by him at the battle of Austerlitz ; the prin- 
 cipal events of that campaign are represented in a bas-relief, 
 which is carried spirally around the whole shafij the figure 
 of the Emperor being prominent in each compartment. His' 
 statue formerly crowned the summit of the column ; but 
 since his downfall it has been removed, and the vacancy is* 
 now supplied by a simple banner.* 
 
 * The statue of Napoleon lias been replaced since the last revolii-, 
 tion ; the dress is the great coat and three cornered cocked hat in" 
 which he is so frecjiiently rcpresended, mid he holds in his hand a' 
 short telctco})e, or rather opera glass. 
 
3f 
 
 Beyond the Place Vendome is the Rue Castiglione, with 
 its fine shops and arcades ; and at the end of this street is 
 the garden of the Tuileries, where we repair before break- 
 fast every rtiorning, to enjoy its shades, and contemplate its 
 Statues, flowers and fountains. In flowers it always abounds, 
 for they are planted in pots concealed in the ground; and as 
 soon as one set goes out of season, it is replaced by another 
 in bloom. 
 
 From eleven until four o'clock we study the pictures in 
 the magnificent gallery of the Louvre, whose halls are opefi 
 for the benefit of strangers and students on every day of the 
 week, except Monday. On Sunday they are open to every 
 body, and consequently on Monday require the operations 
 of the broom and brush. The halls appropriated to sculp- 
 ture are on the ground floor, and the ceilings of several are 
 superbly painted. It was from the window of one of these 
 apartments that Charles the Ninth fired upon his persecuted 
 subjects during the massacre of St. Bartholomews, (August 
 24, 1572.) 
 
 Our usual evening resort is the Boulevard, where we 
 listen to music,~and observe the motley crowds around us ;' 
 and when tired, refresh ourselves with ices or lemonade ift 
 a cafe. 
 
 Dear me I how tastefully the French ladies dress ! What 
 beautiful robes, and hats, and gloves, and shoes and boots, 
 they wear! and how well each article corresponds with an- 
 other. If they have on different colors, they take care that 
 
32 
 
 they shall contrast agreeably, and not be an uncouth mix- 
 ture, displeasing to the eye. In the morning their toilette 
 is remarkably neat and appropriate. You'll probably find 
 them, when you call, in a simple gingham dress, with pele- 
 rine to suit, and a black silk apron ; their hair arranged in 
 puffs, and quite unadorned. Now, is this not more rational 
 than to be furbelowed, and curled, and richly clad, as if 
 they were expecting company, instead of being usefully em- 
 ploy ed? At entertainments and in the public promenades, they 
 display their fine clothes. We have already received and re- 
 turned the visits of several of the French families to whom 
 we brought letters ; but much to our regret, the venerable 
 Count Segurisout of town, and Baron Hottinguer, his lady 
 and son, are at their country seat. The Minister of the 
 Marine (Mr. Hyde de Neuville) and Madame his spouse, 
 are extremely pleasing and amiable. They still have their 
 regular soirees, notwithstanding the advanced season, and 
 we intend to avail ourselves of their polite invitation to 
 attend them. By the bye, I should tell you (what M. Dorval 
 told me,) that in Paris many persons have an appointed 
 evening for receiving their acquaintances, once a week, fort- 
 night, or month, (as suits their convenience,) and on this 
 evening they illuminate their rooms for the reception of 
 their guests. The greater number of these remain only a 
 half hour, and then repair to the opera, or to some other 
 soiree^ as such an assembly is termed. It is usual to go to 
 three or four on the same night. There is seldom any re- 
 
S3 
 
 freshments offered, and the amusements are conversation 
 and ecarte — sometimes billiards ; and when the soiree is so- 
 cial and small, they even introduce childish plays, such as 
 /^Colin-Maillard," " Le Mouchoir," " Tierce," &c. in 
 which elderly people frequently join with all the vivacity of 
 youth. 
 
 Monsieur and Madame de Neuville reside in a superb 
 mansion, that was formerly the " Garde raeuble," or royal 
 wardrobe. It is now called the "Admiralty," and appro- 
 priated to the use of the Minister of the Marine and Colp- 
 jnies. On its roof is a telegraph, and its front is embellished 
 with sculpture and columns, which support a portico as 
 loaag as the building itself. 
 
 A few nights since we were at the Theatre Francais, and 
 €aw Mademoiselle Mars perform the part of the Duchesse 
 de Guise in ^* Henri Trois." To the astonishment of every 
 body she excels in this >.haracter, although it is a difficult 
 one to play, and her first attempt at tragedy. Her talents 
 hitherto, you knoW; have been devoted to comedy. She is 
 the most lovely and youthful looking woman of her age I 
 ever beheld. What do you think of her being past fifty, 
 and yet not appearing as old as twenty-five? She is so 
 graceful too, and then her voice is melody itself. But I must 
 cease my encommms, or I shall not have space to assure you 
 that I am your affectionate sister, 
 
 Leontink. 
 
 c2 
 
34 
 
 LETTER SIXTH, 
 
 Palais Royal — King's Library — Hotel de Ville — Mint — Palace 
 oj Justice — Holy Chajpel — Flower Market, 
 
 Pa?,IS, . 
 
 Dear Jane ; 
 
 What a variety of places we have visited since I des- 
 patched to you my last letter. Par exemple, the Palais 
 Royal, with its agreeable garden and jets d'eau, surrounded 
 by arcades, under which are splendid shops and cafes, that 
 are dazzling when illuminated at night ; the Royal Library, 
 with its vast collection of manuscripts and engravings, and 
 its cabinets of antiquities and medals — the latter considered 
 to be the most complete in the world ; the Hotel de Ville, 
 on the Place de Greve, where the guillotine sometimes plies 
 its dreadful work ; the Exchange, with its sixty-four co* 
 rinthian columns, fine hall, and superb imitations of bas-re- 
 liefs, so admirably executed, that you can scarcely be con- 
 vinced they are the effect of the brush instead of the chisel. 
 Add to these several churches and fountains ; the Mint, 
 where we witnessed the curious process of coining, and the 
 '^ Palais de Justice.'^ In this vast structure of antiquity, the 
 judicial courts of Paris hold their sittings. It was founded 
 in the ninth century, and is termed a palace, because it was 
 once the abode of the French monarchs. I remember having 
 'read in some history of the magnificent entertainments they 
 
35 
 
 gave )iere, in a grand hall containing statues of their race 
 and a marble table of uncommon size, at which none but 
 princes of the blood were allowed to feast. In 1 618 nearly 
 the whole edifice was burnt, and the wonderful table and 
 statues destroyed ; it was rebuilt by Desbrosses, the archi- 
 tect of the Luxembourg. Besides the court rooms and many 
 others above them, filled with the judiciary archives of the 
 kingdom, there are long galleries which have on each side 
 rows of petty shops and stalls. Beneath these galleries are 
 the gloomy prisons of the conciergerie, wherein such attro- 
 cities were committed during the revolution. Here we saw 
 the dungeons in which Marie Antoinette and the Princess 
 Elizabeth w^ere immured ; the cell in which Robespierre 
 was confined ; and that of Louvel^ who assassinated the 
 Duke de Berri. We were shown the prison room of the gal- 
 lant Ney. The cells that inclosed the unfortunate queen 
 and her sister-in-law are now converted into a small chapel, 
 which communicates, by means of an arch, with another of 
 larger dimensions. In the latter, the captives of the conci- 
 ergerie are permitted to attend mass on the Sabbath. The 
 arch is decorated with medallions of Louis the Sixteenth 
 and the Princess Elizabeth, and a few lines extracted from 
 his wull are inscribed on an altar in the smaller chapel. On 
 the wall of this hang three pictures in oil colors ; the first 
 represents Marie Antoinette taking leave of her family just 
 before she was brought to the prison ; in the second, you be- 
 hold her standing wrapt in meditation by her miserable 
 c3 
 
36 
 
 cot-bed, after the door is barred upon her ; in the third, you 
 see her at confession, preparatory to ascending the scaffold. 
 Melancholy themes, and well suited to the gloom of the 
 place! You approach the Palace of Justice through an enor- 
 mous iron gate remarkable for its workmanship and gild- 
 ing. On the left of it stands an ancient building, called the 
 ^^ Holy Chapel/^ from its having been erected by Saint 
 Louis for the reception of the sacred relics he brought with 
 him from Palestine, whither he went on a crusade, in fulfilr 
 ment of a vow he had made during a dangerous illness. His 
 oratory is still shewn, and once served as a refuge from pop- 
 ular fury to the present King Charles the Tenth, in the time 
 of the revolution. The painted windows of the chapel are 
 beautiful, — the colors so bright and various. Around the 
 interior, instead of altars and confessionals^ are a range of 
 cases, containing archives and records. By the bye, among 
 those we saw in the upper galleries of the Palace of Justice, 
 (which communicates with the ^^ Sainte Chapelle,'^) were 
 the condemnation of Joan of Arc, and that of Jean Chatel, 
 who attempted to stab Henry the Fourth, but failed, and 
 having been seized was put to a dreadful death, according to 
 the mandate which we read. He was stretched on the rack, 
 then drawn on a sledge to the Place de Greve, his flesh torn 
 with hot pincers, and his right hand cut off; finally, his 
 limbs were tied to four wild horses, and thus rent asunder. 
 When dead, his body was burnt, and his ashes scattered to 
 the winds. The dress he wore when he attacked the King-j 
 
37 
 
 ind a rope ladder he used in endeavoring to escape "while 
 confined, are carefully preserved in a box, with a scull that 
 was found in the possession of a famous robber, and is said 
 to have served him as a cup, out of which he compelled his 
 victims to drink wine, and then swear allegiance to him* 
 The condemnation of Joan of Arc is replete with super- 
 stition and abuse of that poor v^arrior damsel ; she is 
 pronounced a sorceress, a blasphemer, a devil, &:c., and 
 numerous other opprobious epithets are given to her be- 
 sides. We were likewise shown the hand-writing of Fran- 
 cis the First, Louis the Eleventh, and that of several others 
 of the French monarchs ; and to speak the truth. I don't 
 think their penmanship does them much credit. 
 
 Returning home, we stopped at the flower market, and 
 were surprised at the beauty and cheapness of the flowers. 
 You may buy them growing in pots, or arranged as bouquets. 
 The market is held on the Quay Dessaix, under two 
 rows of trees, in the midst of which a plentiful fountain re- 
 freshes the air, and affords water for the plants. Adieu. Ever 
 yours, 
 
 Leontinev 
 
38 
 
 LETTER SEVENTH. 
 
 Church of SL Roch — Pere la Chase. 
 
 Paris, — — « 
 Dear Sister : — 
 
 Your letter (received within a few hours) gave us all 
 great pleasure, and we are rejoiced to learn that folks and 
 things are going ^on so well at the Lodge. What a fine 
 time you and Albert have for sentimentalizing ! Make 
 the best of it ; for you know October is only a few months 
 off, and when it comes you'll perhaps find me at your elbow 
 oftener than you anticipate. I shall have so much to talk 
 about ; for believe me, although my communications are so 
 long and frequent, a great deal will remain to be told when 
 we reach '^ sweet home.'' 
 
 Now, let me inform you of the strange sight we have just 
 been witnessing in the Church of St. Roch ; a funeral and 
 two weddings solemnizing in the same place and at the 
 same moment ! To us it was shocking, and certes if / had 
 been one of the votaries of hymen on the occasion, I should 
 have experienced sad forbodings of evil in the connubial 
 state. Really, it was sometimes difficult to hear the 
 priests w^ho were performing the marriage rites, their voices 
 being drowned in the loud requiem chanted over the dead. 
 The coffin was strewed with white flowers, emblematical of 
 the youth and maidenhood of the deceased. 
 
39 
 
 We have visited Pere la Chase, and spent nearly a 
 whole day in reading the inscriptions on its numerous and 
 varied monuments, — many of them so magnificent ! many 
 so neat and simple ! The inscriptions are generally beauti- 
 ful and touching — they speak to the hearts of all ; and the 
 lovely and odoriferous flowers that decorate the tombs, seem 
 to rob the grave of its sadness, and shed their balmy influ- 
 ence o'er the mind of the beholder. Several tombs are also 
 adorned with miniatures inserted in the stone^ and portray- 
 ing the once animated countenances of those who rest be- 
 neath them. This romantic burying ground spreads itself 
 over the side of a hill, and from the upper part you have a 
 noble prospect of the city and its environs. In the four- 
 teenth century it was the site of a splendid mansion, built by 
 a wealthy grocer, whose name was Regnaud. Its magnifi- 
 cence being incompatible with his rank, it was soon entitled 
 ^' Regnaud's Folly. ^' The Jesuits afterwards obtained pos- 
 session of it, and gave it the name of "^ Mont Louis," be- 
 cause Louis the Fourteenth when a boy witnessed from its 
 summit the battle in the Faubourg St. Antoine, between the 
 Frondeurs,'^ commanded by the Prince of Conde, and the 
 Court Partj", under Marshal Turenne. I recollect reading 
 
 * This party were termed frondeurs or slingers by their oppo- 
 nents, in allusion to the boys who were then in the habit of throwing 
 stones with slino;s in the street, and who ran away when any one 
 appeared. The Sobriquet, as has frequently happened, was adopted 
 by tl'iPiTi as their distinctive nppellntion. 
 
40 
 
 in Voltaire^s history of that monarches reign, that during 
 this bloody skirmish. Mademoiselle d'Orleans (Louis' cousin) 
 sided with the Prince of Conde^ and had the cannons of the 
 Bastile pointed against the royal troops. This ruined her 
 forever in the opinion of the king ; and Cardinal Mazarin 
 remarked, knowing her desire to marry a crowned head, 
 *^ ce canon la, vientde teiir son marV^ — ^' that cannon has 
 killed her husband/' Bnt I've digressed from my original 
 theme, and hasten to resume it. Pere la Chase, one of the 
 Jesuits, became confessor to Louis, and had entire control 
 of ecclesiastical affairs. The King was very fond of him, 
 and as a mark of his esteem, presented him with the estate 
 of '^Mont Louis," having considerably enlarged and embel- 
 lished it for his use. On the death of the holy father, it re- 
 verted to his brethren, and was called after him. These wily 
 priests projected there the Revocation of the edict of Nantes, 
 and issued thence many a lettre de cachet, decreeing impri- 
 sonment to their enemies. They retained possession of the 
 place until the abolishment of their order in 1763, when it 
 was sold for the benefit of their creditors, and had divers ow- 
 ners, until purchased by the Prefect of the Seine, and appro- 
 priated to its present purpose in 1804. There are three 
 kinds of graves : first, those termed public^ in which the 
 poor are gratuitously, buried ; but each body can remain 
 only five years, the time supposed to be sufficient for its de- 
 composition. These graves resemble immense ditches, and 
 the coffins are deposited one upon nnolher, and side by side, 
 
41 
 
 as close as they can lay. They are wretchedly made, and 
 soon drop to pieces ; and therefore it is not uncommon, in 
 burying a corpse, to see the exposed head and limbs of an- 
 other ! Is'nt this horrible ? Second, temporary graves, 
 wherein the dead remain undisturbed during ten years, for 
 the sum of fifty francs. At the close of that period, unless 
 the grave be rendered of the third kind, perpetual ^ by the 
 payment of a larger portion of money, its ghastly tenant is 
 removed. The oldest and most interesting sepulchre is that 
 of Abelard and Heloise ; it is formed of the ruins of the 
 paraclete, and covered with antique sculpture and ornaments^ 
 It represents a gothic chapel, in the centre of which the 
 bodies of the lovers are represented extended on a bier ; the 
 whole is of gray stone. The monument of the Countess 
 Demidoff, a Russian lady, we considered the richest and 
 handsomest in the collection. It is composed of pure white 
 marble highly polished. A part of the cemetery is appro- 
 priated to the use of strangers, and a considerable space 
 allowed to the Jews. The gate is always thronged w^ith 
 carriages that have brought either visiters or mourners. On 
 each side of the entrance are stalls, w^here wTcaths and 
 bunches of flowers may be purchased. I must now conclude, 
 and am sure you will dream of church-yards and hobgoblins, 
 after reading this letter, from your attached 
 
 Leontine- 
 
42 
 
 LEtTER KIGiHTH. 
 
 Hotel des Invalides — Chamher of Deputies — Pont Louis IQth—^ 
 Bridges of Paris — The Pont Neuf. 
 
 PARIS; . 
 
 Dear Jane t 
 
 " Let them gild the dome of the Hotel des Invalides/' 
 said Napoleon to an officer, who informed him that unless 
 the war with Italy was discontinued, there would certainly 
 be a revolution in Paris. The mandate was issued, the 
 dome covered with the shining leaf, and the minds of the 
 people immediately turned from the operations of war, to 
 those of the artizans employed on the cupola of the military 
 asylum. Napoleon foresaw this, for well he knew the char- 
 acter of his subjects. A mere trifle, having novelty to re- 
 commend it, attracts their notice, engages their attention, 
 and forms the theme of their conversation for a long while — 
 at least, until another nev/ bubble arises. This we must 
 own is a happy disposition, and better calculated to render 
 a nation contented and joyous, than the sober, phlegmatic 
 temperament of our Islanders. 
 
 Thus, my dear Jane, have I managed to describe to you, 
 in a very few words, the dome of the Invalids and the char- 
 acter of the Parisians. Knowing you hate prolixity, I re- 
 joice at my success, and for the same reason, proceed with- 
 out delay to give you an account of the Hospital in ques- 
 
43 
 
 tion. It is a stately edifice, and was erected by Louis 14th, 
 for the reception of brave and disabled old soldiers. In ap- 
 proaching it, you traverse a vast esplanade embellished with 
 a fountain and bordered by a grove of lofty trees, with seats 
 beneath them to tempt the lounger and rest the weary ; 
 some of them were occupied by veterans whom I readily 
 imagined to be telling '- how fields were won." We s-)ent 
 three hours in their noble asylum, examining its spacious 
 halls and dormitories, its cleanly and well-arranged kitchen 
 its library and magnificent church, and its cabinet of archi- 
 tecture, which consists of two large rooms, containing mo- 
 dels of all the fortified towns io the kingdom. These are 
 most ingeniously and beautifully executed, and give you a 
 perfect idea of the places they represent. The council cham- 
 ber adjoins the library, and this and two other apartments 
 are decorated with the portraits of the deceased marshals of 
 France : while the originals are living, their likenesses are 
 deposited in the ^-'Salle des Marecheaux,'' at the Palace of 
 the Tuileries. In the church we saw the mausoleum of 
 Turenne and that of the famous engineer Vauban.*' The 
 interior of the dome and the ceilings of six chapels surround- 
 ing it are richly painted, and the tesselated pavement, in- 
 terspersed with fleurs de lis and other symbols, is exceed- 
 ingly beautiful. Three hundred flags, the spoils of differ- 
 
 * He was deformed, and being once asked by the kincr what his 
 ^nemiesdiought of bis back.-- Sire, (be replied,) rbey bare never 
 
44 
 
 exit nations, were once suspended from the dome ; but when 
 the allies entered Paris, the invalid warriors tore them down 
 to prevent their being retaken. 
 
 From the Hotel des Invalides we rode to the Chamber of 
 Deputies, adjoining the palace of Bourbon, and situated on 
 the southern bank of the Seine, which separates it from the 
 ^^ Place Louis Quinze.'' It is a handsome building, adorned 
 "with statues and corinthian columns, and has a pleasant gar- 
 den attached to it ; the deputies hold their assemblies in a 
 semi-circular hall, lighted from the top and appropriately- 
 arranged. Monsieur de N was so kind and polite as 
 
 to send us tickets, and we have been twice to hear the de- 
 bates ; they were very animated, though whenever a mem- 
 ber wished to speak, he was obliged to curb the spirit that 
 moved him, until he could cross the floor and mount a ros- 
 trum, which delay I should think is most unfavorable to 
 extemporary eloquence. 
 
 Returning, we passed over the Pont Louis Seize, and ex- 
 amined the twelve colossal figures of white marble that 
 .uave been recently placed on it ; they are masterly pieces 
 of sculpture, but too gigantic for the size of the bridge and 
 their approximation to you. There are no less than seven- 
 teen bridores athwart the Seine, but not one of them can be 
 compared to those of Waterloo, Blackfriar's, or Westmin- 
 ster at London, cis regards strength or magnitude. The 
 Pont Neuf is the largest ; it is more than sixty feiet w^ide, 
 and lined on each side with stalls of every description ; (he 
 
45 
 
 passengers are continually beset by the importunities of the 
 shoe-black, the dog-shaver, the ballad singer, the bird sel^- 
 ler, the fruiterer, the pedler, the vender of second-hand 
 books, and various other petty dealers. Good night, dear 
 sister. My paper and candle warn me to conclude, which I 
 fear you will not regret. 
 
 Leontine. 
 
 LETTER NINTH. 
 
 Arrival of Friends — Voyage from London to Calais— Route from 
 Calais to Paris — Levee at the Minister s of the Marine — Exj[)ia- 
 tory Chapel, 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 My Dear Jane : 
 
 We were agreeably surprised the day before yesterday, 
 while at dinner, by the arrival of the Danvilles, the Ameri- 
 can family with whom we were so charmed at Bath last 
 summer. Leonora is as lovely as ever, and delighted at the 
 idea of spending the fall and winter here ; she expects, too, 
 to be joined by her cousin Marcella, of whom we have heard 
 her speak with such affection and admiration. She has been 
 so good as to let me read her journal, and I have obtained 
 her permission to transcribe a part of it for your perusal. It 
 
concerns the journey from Calais to Paris, and as I have 
 given you a sketch of that from Havre here, this will enable 
 you to compare the two routes. I dare say you will like, 
 also, to read her observations about the Thames and our 
 steam boats. She writes thus : 
 
 ^^ Soon after leaving London, the Thames quite astonished 
 me. I had no idea it w^as so considerable a river. For many 
 miles it is broad and winding, and each shore presents fine 
 scenery. We had a good view of several noted towns, and 
 remarked the superb hospital at Greenwich and the royal 
 dockyard at Woolwich, where ships of war are made. At 
 Gravesend we passed two vessels transporting convicts to 
 Botany Bay, and I regretted to observe that the women 
 were more numerous than the men. 
 
 ^^ The motion of the English steam boats is still more dis- 
 agreeable than that of ours, but their machinery is less 
 noisy. Coal being used for fuel instead of wood, the 
 passengers soon look dingy in face and dress : there- 
 fore one should not travel in them handsomely clad, as 
 clothes are quickly ruined by the smoke and dust. There 
 is no particular hour for breakfast ; each person calls for it 
 when it suits his pleasure^ and has a table to himself. Din- 
 ner is served at five o'clock. 
 
 ^^ We reached Calais_^about eight P. M. At the custom 
 house the officers were not strict in their examination of our 
 luggage ; this surprised us, for w^e had understood that they 
 were always very rigid in performing this troublesome duty. 
 Perhaps our being Americans w^as the cause of tl^^^''- ^-^ ^ 
 
ration in disturbing aur trunks and boxes, — for the I^rench 
 like us almost as much as they detest the English, On 
 landing, we were highly diverted at the scene on the Quay, 
 The instant we left the boat we were beset with men and 
 boys on every side, recommending different hotels, — and fre- 
 quently cards of address were absolutely forced into our 
 hands. When one overheard another advising any of us 
 to go to a particular house, he would cry out, "' never do 
 you mind that fellow, ma'am, (or sir,) he tells a lie; he al- 
 ways tells lies!'' Or, ^^no such thing, sir; that house is full, sirj 
 you can't get in, and he knows it !" Or, " that hotel is not a 
 good one, sir, — indeed it is not; try mine, sir ; mine's a palace 
 to iti" and fifty other such droll speeches, at which (tormented 
 as we were) we could not help laughing. Sometimes they would 
 even seize us by the arm and entreat us to accompany them 
 to their hotel, if only to see how comfortable it was. These 
 besiegers (we have since been told) receive a trifle from 
 every innkeeper to whom they carry a guest, and it is their 
 anxiety to obtain this fee that renders them so annoying to 
 travellers. 
 
 ^'Ere leaving Calais, we had sufficient leisure to walk about 
 the town and visit the church, the town hall on the ^^ place 
 d'armes," and the column on the pier commemorating the 
 landing of Louis 18th, on the 24th of April, 1814. It is 
 a plain stone pillar, surmounted by a ball and a fleur de lis. 
 In front of it is a representation in bronze of the print of the 
 king's foot (or rather his shoe) upon the spot he first stepped 
 on from the vessel. We found the country between Calais 
 
48 
 
 &nd Paris uninteresting and generally barren^ Once 6t 
 twice we had a fine view of the sea. The French villages 
 appeared horribly dirty after the exquisite neatness of those 
 in England. The highways presented a bustling and enter- 
 taining scene ; for men and women, boys and girls, gaily 
 dressed, continually passed us, carrying baskets of fruits, ri- 
 ding on donkeys, or driving along pigs, sheep, cows, or 
 geese. The venders of fruit would frequently jump up be- 
 hind our carriage, and thrust in, at the window^, peaches, 
 pears and grapes, beseeching us to buy them, and assuring 
 us we had never tasted better in all our lives. Whenever we 
 stopped at an inn, or ascended a hill, we were surrounded 
 by dozens of paupers, begging for a sous. Sometimes they 
 looked so miserable, it was impossible to refuse ; at others, 
 we were fain to bestow it in order to get rid of them. Little 
 urchins would also solicit a penny, and scamper after us a 
 considerable distance, often springing up behind and sticking 
 their heads into the coach. Upon the whole, I am contented 
 with our journey hither; for if it was not picturesque, it w^as 
 highly amusing. 
 
 ^' The principal towns we have passed through, are Bou- 
 logne, Abbeville, and Beauvais. The first is said to have 
 been founded by Julius Csesar ; and Le Sage, the author of 
 Gil Bias, died there in 1747 ; the house in which he ex- 
 pired, is yet shewn as a curiosity. Within a mile of 
 Boulogne is a corinthian column, which Bonaparte began 
 to erect as a memento of his victories over the English ; he 
 
49 
 
 left it unfinished, and Louis 18th had it completed for his own 
 honor and glory." 
 
 Thus far, dear sister, I have copied from Leonora's diary; 
 now for something of my own. Last night we were at M. 
 de Neuville's grand levee ; he has one every week^ and be- 
 ing exceedingly popular, his rooms are generally crowded. 
 We saw, there, many distinguished characters ; among thenn. 
 Monsieur de Chateaubriand, whose travels have afforded us 
 so much entertainment and instruction, and General Saldan- 
 ha, the brave Portuguese. He has a commanding figure 
 and face, and wears a pair of tremendous mustachios, 
 which are so frightful and so fashionable ! To-day we devo- 
 ted a portion of our time to the Expiatory Chapel, a beau- 
 tiful building, constructed in honor of Louis 16th and Marie 
 Antoinette ; it covers the spot w-here their remains were 
 first interred ; for since the restoration of the Bourbons, 
 these have been conveyed to the royal vault at St. Denis. 
 The entrance and interior of the chapel are very handsome; 
 the light is admitted from the cupola, beneath which are 
 fifteen niches, destined to hold statues of the chief victims of 
 the revolution. There is a neat altar, and the will of Louis 
 and that of his sistei* (the Princess Elizabeth) are engraved 
 in golden letters, on two white marble tablets. A subter- 
 ranean apartment contains another altar; and in front of this, 
 a black marble slab, bearing an inscription, still designates 
 the original grave of the royal and unfortunate pair. In 
 the court of the chapel, many of their faithful Swiss guards 
 
50 
 
 are interred. The testament of Louis, wherein he expresses 
 good will towards his enemies^ and forgiveness of his unloyal 
 and cruel subjects, is very touching. A peasant girl was 
 reading it when we entered, and her cheeks were bedewed 
 with tears. 
 
 I regret ta inform you that mama has had a return of her 
 consumptive cough, and is compelled to drink asses' milk. 
 She is plentifully supplied with it every morning, by an old 
 man who drives a flock of female asses about the streets, 
 and milks them before the door of each customer. The 
 tingling of a little bell, which he carries, gives notice of his 
 arrival whenever he stops. Farewell : kind greetings to 
 those around you,— and above all to yourself. From 
 
 Leontine/ 
 
 LETTER TENTH. 
 
 The Luxembourg — The Ohservalory — Notre Dame — The Panthe- 
 on — Madame Malihran — M'lle Sontag, 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 Dearest Jane : 
 
 On inquiring the day of the month, I am quite surprised 
 to find that my pen has been idle nearly a week. I will now 
 try to make up for lost time, by describing to you some of 
 the places we have visited in the interim ; and the Luxem- 
 bourg being first on the list, will commence with that. It 
 is one of the m-ost magnificent palaces in Paris. The exterior 
 
ol 
 
 is highly embellished, and, to use the words of an English 
 tourist, " the architecture throughout is distinguished by 
 its bold and masculine character, and by the regularity and 
 beauty of its proportions.'' This palace was built by order 
 of Mary de Medici, the widow of Henry 4th ; it afterwards 
 became the property of some of the French nobility, but 
 was finally restored to the crown. During the revolu- 
 tion, it was used as a prison ; the Senate afterwards oc- 
 cupied it ; at present it contains the Chamber of Peers, — 
 and its galleries are filled with the chef d'oeuvres of mo- 
 dern artists, whose productions are not admitted into the 
 Louvre until their death. Of course, the collection 
 of paintings here is much smaller than at the Louvre; 
 but the pictures are all on the most interesting subjects, an^ 
 are seen to greater advantage, the light being let in from 
 above instead of from the sides of the rooms, as is the case at 
 the Louvre. There are some choice pieces of sculpture ; one 
 of them (by Charles Dupaty) represents the Nymph Biblis 
 changing to a fountain. It is both a singular and ingenious 
 production. The Chamber of Peers, like that of the Deputies, 
 is semi-circular in shape ; it is hung with blue velvet ; and the 
 marble effigies of several orators, legislators and warriors of 
 old, grace its walls. From the ceiling, which is painted, hangs 
 a splendid chandelier. I will only mention one or two more of 
 the apartments — the Salle du Trone,^ as being particularly 
 rich, and the billiard room, which is tapestried with white vel- 
 
 * Hall of the Throne. 
 
52 
 
 vet, with various views of Rome beautifully delineated on it 
 in water colors. On the ground floor is the chapel — this is 
 very plain ; near it is the gorgeous chamber of Marie de Medi- 
 cis;, — the ceiling, walls and shutters of which are covered 
 with gilding and arabesque paintings. The principal staircase 
 of the palace is remarkably grand and magnificent ; there are 
 forty-eight steps, each twenty feet in length, and formed of 
 a single stone; on the right and left of it, are statues and 
 trophies. The garden of the Luxembourg is shady and plea- 
 sant, and has the usual embellishments of gods and goddesses 
 amid fountains and flowers. As you are fond of the mar- 
 vellous, I will tell you a tradition I have just read respect- 
 ing it. 
 
 There once stood a castle on the site of this garden, w^hich, 
 remaining along while uninhabited, was said to be haunted 
 by frightful demons and apparitions ; the whole neighbor- 
 hood was nightly disturbed by them ; no person would ven* 
 ture out after sunset, and finally the inhabitants were com- 
 pelled, for the sake of rest, to seek other dwellings. In this 
 state of things, the monks of a Carthusian monastery at 
 Gentilly (who were doubtless at the bottom of the mystery) 
 promised to drive away the malicious spirits by exorcism, if 
 St. Louis would grant them the castle and its appurtenan- 
 ces. Their request was complied with ; and they so faith- 
 fully performed their part, that peace was soon restored, and 
 the chateau converted into a convent, which existed about 
 six hundred voars. 
 
53 
 
 From the Luxembourg we proceeded through a long 
 sunny avenue, to the observatory. On the left of the road, 
 x\rnaud, our valet de place, pointed out the spot upon which 
 Marshal Ney was shot. '- Regardez, Mesdames ! ce fut la 
 (pointing with his finger) I'endroit ou le brave Marechal 
 Ney fut massacre — Jetais present et il me semble que je le 
 vois tout sang'lant dans ce moment/' said he, shuddering. 
 We paused to look at the once bloody spot, now verdant 
 with grass and so sadly interesting. The observatory may 
 be considered a wonderful building, for neither iron or wood 
 have been used in its construction; it is entirely of stone, 
 each piece being ingeniously fitted to another. Four astro- 
 nomers pursue their avocations here, and have the advan- 
 tage of a good library and apparatus ; there are, likewise, 
 an anemometer for indicating the course of the wind, and a 
 pluviometer for measuring the quantity of rain that falls at 
 Paris. A geometrical staircase leads to the entrance of some 
 spacious caverns where experiments in congelation are made, 
 and these caverns communicate with subterranean galleries 
 that w^ere originally quarries, and extend a considerable dis- 
 tance under the city, containing beautiful stalacities, formed 
 by water oozing through the rocks. We did not see them, 
 for they cannot be entered without a special guide, and a 
 written permission from certain persons appointed by gov- 
 ernment to superintend and inspect them. 
 
 But my stars ! I have exhausted nearly all my paper, and 
 
 have yet a dozen places to describe ! Well, well, von must 
 
 d2 
 
54 
 
 be contented with an account of two of the most important; 
 and by the time I have finished w^ith them, I shall have to 
 squeeze in my name, no doubt. And now let me decide 
 which of the various objects w^e have examined, I ought to 
 regard as chief. Why, the mother church of France '^ No- 
 tre Dame/' and the Pantheon, to be sure ! The first is the 
 most ancient religious structure in the city, and is pro- 
 nounced to be one of the handsomest in the kingdom. Be- 
 ing built in the Gothic ages, its architecture is according to 
 the fashion of those times, very singular and bold. The in- 
 terior of the building corresponds with the outside in curious 
 carving and designs; the choir and the stalls surrounding it 
 are covered with grotesque sculpture. There are no less 
 than thirty chapels, and all of them contain pictures, but 
 are generally very indifferent. There are several fine ones 
 around the choir — among them the ^'Visitation," by Jean 
 Jouvenet ; this painting w^as executed entirely with his left 
 haind, after he lost the use of his right by a paralytic stroke. 
 Behind the altar, is a gooil piece of sculpture by Coustou ; 
 the subject is the ^' descent from the cross." In the vestry 
 room, w^e were shown some extraordinary relics, — such as 
 part of the crown of thorns that was worn by our Saviour, 
 and a bit of his cross ! We also saw the regalia of Charle- 
 magne, and the splendid robes given to the priests of this 
 cathedral by Bonaparte at the period of his coronation, 
 upon which occasion they w^ere used ; they are embroidered 
 in the richest manner with gold and silver, and amazingly 
 
55 
 
 heavy. Numerous sacred festivals are celebrated at Notre 
 Dame in the course of the year ; and in August there is to be 
 a procession in fulfilment of a vow made by Louis XIII. 
 This is done on the 15th of that month annually, and the 
 royal family always join in it. We shall go to see it, of 
 course ; and how I wish youj aunt Margaret and Albert 
 were of our party. 
 
 The Pantheon, or Church of Saint Genevieve, is a mag- 
 nificent structure, and its dome is the most striking object 
 that presents itself as you approach Paris. The interior of 
 it is beatifully painted, the artist having chosen for his sub- 
 ject the apotheosis of Louis' XVI and his family. When the 
 work was finished, the King went to see it, and after looking 
 at it attentively for a quarter of an hour, he turned to the 
 painter Gros, who was anxiously awaiting his opinion, and 
 said to him, ^^Eh bien Monsieur le 5aron votre ouvrage 
 est tres bien fait !'' thus recompensing his talents, by be- 
 stowing on him a title of nobility. Saint Genevieve, the 
 patron Saint of Paris, is buried in the Pantheon, and her 
 tomb is always surrounded by lighted tapers, the votive 
 offerings of those who come to demand her intercession for 
 pardon or blessing. In the vaults beneath the church, many 
 distinguished men are interred. Indeed, it was to receive 
 the ashes of such, that the Pantheon was designed ; and 
 Louis XV, who was the liberal encourager of science and 
 art, was the founder of it. 
 
 Contrary to my expectations, 1 find I've yet space enough 
 
56 
 
 to inform you that we have been twice to the Italian Opera, 
 to hear Madame Malibran and Mademoiselle Sontag. The 
 former seems really adored here. At her benefit, many gen- 
 tlemen voluntarily paid one hundred francs for a ticket, in- 
 stead of twenty, the actual price. She sings enchantingly 
 and acts with great spirit ; so does her rival. Mademoiselle 
 Sontag. In fact, I know not to which of these nightingales I 
 prefer listening. Adieu. 
 
 Leontine. 
 
 LETTER ELEVENTH. 
 
 Malmaison, Tomh of the Ex-Hmj)ress Josephine'— Engine for con- 
 veying water to Versailles and St, Cloud — >S^ Germain en Lay e — 
 Nanterre — St, Generieve, 
 
 Paris, . . 
 
 Although quite fatigued, I cannot retire to rest ere I have 
 rendered ray dear sister an account of to-day^s excursion to 
 St. Germain and to Malmaison, the favorite residence of the 
 late Ex-Empress Josephine. We took an early breakfast, 
 and sat off by ten o'clock ; the Danvilles in their carriage, 
 accompanied by Sigismund, and we in a remise, or, as it is 
 termed in England, a glass coach. We soon alighted at 
 Malmaison, it being only two leagues from Paris, and spent 
 more than an hour in walking over the house and grounds, 
 <\nd thinking of poor Josephine. A great deal of the fur- 
 
r 
 
 57 
 
 niture yet remains as she left it ; even her music books are 
 kept as she arranged them. The room she occupied as her 
 chamber, is exceedingly beautiful. It is circular, lined with 
 cloth of crimson and gold, and surrounded by mirrors insert- 
 ed into the walls and doors. The bed is supported by golden 
 swans, and the coverlid and curtains are of silver lama. In 
 the library we saw the writing table and inkstand of Na- 
 poleon. The first bears evident marks of his penknife ; 
 which, while meditating, he used to strike into the wood. 
 The domestic who conducted us through the apartments, 
 spokeof the Ex-Empress with great affection ; and so did 
 the gardener, a West India negro, whose ebony visage was 
 a novel spectacle to us. They said she w^as beloved by all 
 the household and neighborhood, for her affability and kind- 
 ness. The green house is filled with gay and choice flow- 
 ers and shrubs ; and it is melancholy to reflect that these, 
 the frailest productions of nature, have outlived their lovely 
 mistress, and still blossom and flourish and shed their frag- 
 rance around, while she, like a shadow, has passed away ! 
 After following awhile the windings of a stream that meanders 
 through the garden, we found ourselves at the threshold of 
 a pretty Httle temple dedicated to Cupid. The mischiev- 
 ous urchin himself, treading upon roses, is placed in the cen- 
 tre, and on the pedestral beneath him, this vindictive coup- 
 let is inscribed : 
 
 A 
 
 II Pest, le flit, oil le doit etre, 
 Qui que cc soit, voici ton Maitre. 
 
58 
 
 We quitted the shades of Mahnaison with regret, and pro-' 
 ceeded to the neighboring village of Ruelle to visit the 
 tomb of Josephine in the church there, where her ashes re- 
 pose. The monument is of white marble, and was erected 
 to her memory by Eugene Beauharnais, her son. On its 
 summit she is represented clad in a folding robe with a dia- 
 dem on her head, and kneeling before an open breviary. It 
 is a handsome tribute of filial love. 
 
 Near Ruelle is a chateau that once belonged to Cardinal 
 Richelieu, and since then to Marshal Massena, whose widow 
 still inhabits it.*^ Being informed that the family were ab- 
 sent, and that it was customary for strangers to visit this 
 sojourn of those distinguished men, we drove there ; and, 
 alighting from our carriages, were demanding permission of 
 a person in the yard to see the mansion and its grounds, 
 when a lady suddenly made her appearance, and we had the 
 mortification to find that we w^ere intruding on the privacy 
 of Madame Massena herself. We immediately explained 
 our mistake, and would have come away, but she insisted on 
 our entering, and was so polite that we could not refuse. 
 The chateau is very plain, and furnished with correspond- 
 ing simplicity. In front of it is a limpid sheet of w^ater, 
 and behind it a pleasant garden, where we wandered awhile, 
 and then took leave, gratified with our adventure, awkward 
 as it was at the commencement. 
 
 *This lady is since dead. She died soon afterwards. 
 
o9 
 
 Retracing our steps a short distance, we continuea our 
 ride to St. Germain en Laye, and observed on our left a stu- 
 pendous steam engine, which, on inquiry, we found is used 
 for supplying the fountains of Versailles and St. Cloud with 
 water from the Seine, and has succeeded the famous machine 
 of Marly. This machine had become so decayed in some 
 parts before its removal, that it occasioned the death of sever- 
 al persons who were examining its construction, and heed- 
 lessly stepped on an old board, which, giving way, they were 
 precipitated in the river and drowned, or crushed to death 
 by the wheels. St. Germaine en Laye derives it name from 
 the extensive forests adjoining it, which is considered the 
 finest in France, and has ever been the favorite hunting 
 ground of the French monarchs. While partaking of the 
 pleasures of the chase, they inhabited the spacious palace 
 that still exists, and is at present a barracks for soldiers. 
 That abject king, James the Second, resided in it twelve 
 years, supported by the munificence of Louis le Grand, and 
 finally closed his earthly career in this noble retreat. He 
 was buried in the adjoining church, and his heart is enshrined 
 in a paltry looking altar, before which a lamp is constantly 
 burning, and upon which is an inscription informing the 
 reader why it was erected. But what renders the palace at 
 St. Germain peculiarly interesting, is its having been the 
 residence of the Duchess de la Vallicre ; and in the ceiling 
 of one of the rooms appropriated to her use there is a trap 
 door, through which it is supposed her enamored sovereign 
 
60 
 
 descended when he visited her clandestinely. On the left 
 of the castle is a terrace one mile in length, and bordering 
 an acclivity that overhangs the Seine, and is highly cultiva- 
 ted in vineyards and fruit trees. This terrace is much fre- 
 quented by persons who resort there for the purpose of en- 
 joying fresh air and a fine prospect. Some go in carriages, 
 but the usual mode of conveyance is by a donkey, and this 
 we chose. The streets of the town are wide, and the houses 
 generally large ; which might be expected, as court festivi- 
 ties were so often held here ; and now^-a-days, many of the 
 Parisian gentry pass the summer months here. 
 
 We finished the day by dining at a neat auberge, (inn,) 
 with a garden teeming with flowers just in front of our par- 
 lor. Returning home, we passed through the village of 
 Nanterre, (the birth-place of St. Genevieve,) and stopped an 
 instant to buy some of the cakes for which it is renowned ; 
 they are merely buns, and we did not think them deserving 
 of their fame. Nanterre beer and Nanterre sausages are 
 also held in great estimation ; but of these we did not taste, 
 being quite satisfied with our trial of the cakes. I imagine 
 you know the history of St. Genevieve ; though lest you 
 should not, I will tell you, in a few w^ords, that she was a 
 shepherdess, whose virtues and piety caused her to be can- 
 onized after her death, and made the patron saint of Paris. 
 There is a lovely picture of her at the Louvre, by Pierre 
 Guerin, representing her turning a spindle while guarding 
 her flock. Good night, Leontine. 
 
61 
 
 LETTER TWELFTH. 
 
 Lajayeite and his Family — Sevres Manufactory — Palace of St* 
 Cloud — Madame de Genlis — Savoyards — Ballet of Mars and 
 Venus. 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 Dear Jane : 
 
 We have formed acquaintance with some delightful cha*- 
 racters since I wrote to you a few days since. We have 
 been introduced to the good and brave General Lafayette 
 and his family. On Wednesday he came with his son, Mr. 
 George W. Lafayette, to see Mr. Danville, and the latter pre- 
 sented us to them. The print you have seen of this distin^ 
 guished patriarch is a correct likeness ; and his manners 
 are as benevolent as his countenance. He has a soiree on 
 every Wednesday night, and we have gladly ac(jppted the 
 kind and pressing invitation he gave each of us to attend 
 them. The ladies of the family, consisting of his daughters, 
 his grand-daughters, and daughter-in-law, Madame G. La- 
 fayette, have also called, and we find them very amiable 
 and pleasing. 
 
 We have likewise had an introduction to Madame de 
 Genlis, for which we are indebted to Mrs. Danville ; who, 
 rightly conjecturing it would be gratifying to us to know 
 this celebrated lady, and being well acquainted with her, 
 requested her permission to present us to her. This was 
 readily granted, and this morning appointed for the visit. 
 Accordingly, after an early ride to the Sevres manufactory 
 
02 
 
 of porcelain and the Palace of St. Cloud, the most splendid 
 of all the King's habitations, we repaired to her residence. 
 On arriving^ we were conducted up stairs by a tidy-looking 
 femme de chamhre and ushered through a small bed-room, 
 plainly furnished, into an apartment that, from the variety 
 of its contents, might be compared to Noah's ark. Besides 
 the usual appendages of a parlor, it contained a piano, a 
 harp, a guitar, a folding screen, and several tables loaded 
 with books, papers, baskets and boxes, &c. 
 
 We found the venerable authoress seated in an arm chair, 
 near the window. Her regular and delicate features and 
 fair^skin still indicate former beauty. Her nose is aquiline, 
 and her eyes clear blue ; as they are weak, she is obliged to 
 wear a green shade, to protect them from the light, but has 
 never yet%und it necessary to use spectacles : this is aston- 
 ishing, for she will be eighty-two on the 25th of next Janu- 
 ary I She wore a black silk gown, and a simple muslin cap ; 
 and when Mrs. Danville introduced us, she offered her hand 
 to each, and, as soon as we were seated, entered into conver- 
 sation with a degree of vivacity that quite surprised us ; we 
 were still more so, at her vanity. She talked a great deal 
 about her own works, and in their praise ! We asked her 
 if she continued to play on the harp. ^^ Oh oui ! tres bien !" 
 she replied. ^^ And on the piano and guitar, Madame V^ 
 ^^ Oh, oui, tout, toutj tres bien!'' She told us she often practis- 
 ed on the harp and composed in prose at the same time : and 
 that while reciting verses aloud in a distinct voice, and with 
 
63 
 
 strict attention to punctuation and emphasis, she could 'read 
 a page from any author, and then recount to you, in regular 
 rotation, every idea therein expressed ; and this proved, 
 she said, that the mind is capable of two operations at once. 
 Papa observed that Charles the Twelfth, of Sweden, prov- 
 ed it a century ago, when he played chess while dic- 
 tating letters to different persons. She did not notice 
 this remark, but proceeded to extol a novel she wrote some 
 years since, entitled '^ Alfred the Great." She considers it 
 one of her best productions, and gave it to a physician who 
 attended her during a dangerous illness, and declined being- 
 paid for his services. She said she thought she could not com- 
 pliment him more, than by making him a present of her work; 
 that he seemed highly delighted with it, and declared he 
 would have it published immediately, but that, much to her 
 regret, he had not kept his promise. 
 
 Alfred is her favorite hero, and she expressed her wonder 
 that he is not often made the subject of a romance. She 
 informed us that she always retires' to bed at half past ten 
 o'clock, and rises at seven, and is careful to eat very mode- 
 rately. Her faculties continue perfect, and she knows fifty- 
 two trades ; such as sewing, knitting, spinning, embroider- 
 ing, making baskets, weaving purses, (fcc. (fcc. We saw on 
 the chimney-piece a snuff box that Mademoiselle d'Orleans, 
 her ci-deva7it pupil; had sent to her. On the lid she had 
 painted a harp entwined with a garland of flowers, and be- 
 low it this sentence was wriiten : " Cast votre ouvragc/ ' 
 
64 
 
 Having sat with her two hours, we took leave, and had 
 quitted the room, when she called us back to show" us with 
 what ease she could rise from her chair without resting her 
 hands on the arms of it to aid herself, as old people are 
 commonly obliged to do. She has invited us to call on her 
 whenever w^e can, and was so polite as to say she felt quite 
 flattered by our visit. 
 
 On reaching home, we found Mr. Danville and Leonora 
 much diverted at the exploit of a monkey that had climbed 
 in at the window, and ere they perceived it, twitched from 
 Leonora's hand a bunch of raisins she was eating. It was 
 the property of a little Savoyard, who had taught it a vari- 
 ety of tricks, in order to gain a few sous by their exhibition. 
 The Boulevard abounds with these little wanderers, and 
 their marmosets. 
 
 This evening we are going to a fete at the Tivoli Garden; 
 the New Tivoli as it is called ; the old one (which I am told 
 was far handsomer) has been converted into ground for build- 
 ing. We have seen the Ballet of Mars and Venus, at the 
 grand opera ; nothing can be more beautiful and splendid 
 than it is ! Leaving it for your imagination to fancy, I sub- 
 scribe myself your affectionate 
 
 Leontine. 
 
65 
 
 LETTER THIRTEENTH. 
 
 Fete at Tivoli — The Catacomhs — Cemetery of Montmartre — Abat- 
 toirs — Lady Morgan — Mrs. Opie — A Quaker Meeting, 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 Dear Jane : — • 
 
 We were much entertained at Tivoli. The garden was 
 brightly illuminated, and all sorts of amusements went on ; 
 and what a variety of these the French have, and with what 
 zest they partake of them! We did our part very well too. 
 We swung, we rode on wooden horses, sailed in ships, looked 
 at a cosmorama, witnessed a phantasmagoria, rope-dancing 
 and fire-works, a play performed by puppets, and some 
 metamorphoses of little paste-board figureS; that were quite 
 wonderful; for instance : —a tiny lion was changed, as if 
 by magic, into a cupid driving a car drawn by swans, a 
 young lady into a basket of flowers, a butterfly into a beau, 
 &c. &c. These transfigurations, I think, must be produced 
 in the following manner : Two different objects are painted 
 on a bit of pasteboard, one on the back and the other on the 
 front of it ; the pasteboard is then folded into the shape of 
 one of them, and threads, too fine to be visible at a mode- 
 rate distance, attached to it ; after exhibiting the first figure 
 a sufficient time, the threads are pulled and the pasteboard 
 adroitly turned round and thrown open, thus displaying the 
 second figure, to the form of which its edges are trimmed. 
 As no person was visible, the threads wore undoubtedly 
 
66 
 
 passed through the scenes of the miniature stage into the 
 hand of the skilful operator, — for skilful he or she was who 
 conducted the business. When tired of strolling, w^e entered 
 a fine cafe, situated in the centre of the garden, and re- 
 freshed ourselves with ice creams; afterwards, attracted by 
 the sound of music, we repaired to an open space, wdiere an 
 orchestra was erected and a band of musicians were playing 
 quadrilles for a party of beaux and belles, w^ho danced away 
 merrily, not on the tnrf^ but in the sand ; they were, how- 
 ever, so inspired by the tones of violins and clarionets, that 
 they moved along as if on a board floor. 
 
 You will wonder, perhaps, how w^e sailed in ships w^ithout 
 the aid of wind or tide ! I will tell you. Two poles, with 
 a little ship suspended by a rope from each end, were placed 
 crosswise on a pivot, and turned as rapidly as you chose, 
 carrying you round and round in the air, with an undulating 
 motion, not dissimilar to that of a vessel at sea, and so un- 
 ])leasant to our feelings that we soon dis embarked » This 
 diversion is termed " les Espagnolettes.'' The wooden 
 horses are arranged in like manner, except that they 
 are firmly fixed on the ends of the poles, and conse- 
 quently, in riding on them, you do not experience the sick- 
 ening, waving motion. The machine for swinging is de- 
 nominated a " Balancoir.'^ This consists of a couple of 
 beams placed athwart each other, with chairs attached to 
 their ends, w^hich are thrown alternately up and down. 
 Several parties, as they glided round on the wooden horses. 
 
67 
 
 amused themselves by trying to pass a stick through a large 
 ring, which was held towards them by a woman mounted 
 on a bench. Whenever a ring w^as caught and borne off, 
 it was instantly replaced by another; until one of the coai- 
 petitors had ohtainedfive, and thus won the game. 
 
 I must now change my theme, and inform you of our disap- 
 pointment as respects seeing the catacombs. They are closed 
 at present by order of the government — I believe on account 
 of the danger there is in visiting them. We have been to the 
 * cemetery of Montmartre/' or " Field of Repose," as it is 
 likewise styled. It is of much older date than ^' Pere la 
 Ghase,^' but not so extensive, nor does it contain such hand- 
 some monuments ; there are, however, some shady, melan- 
 choly dells and moss-covered tombs, that render it peculiar- 
 ly interesting. Vcstris, the celebrated dancer, and Very, the 
 chief of restaurateurs, are buried there. 
 
 From the cemetery we proceeded to the ^' Abattoir," or 
 ^^ Slaughter-house of Montmartre ;" an establishment of 
 this kind is erected in every department of the city. With- 
 in them the butchers exercise their sanguinary functions*, and 
 the expense of them is defrayed by taxes on the animals that 
 are killed. They are kept in the neatest order, and com- 
 posed of numerous buildings, each of which is appropriated 
 to a particular branch of the business. In one, the poor ani- 
 mals are knocked in the head ; and there is a receptacle 
 for the blood, which trickles into it through furrows made in 
 the floor : in a second, the carcase is skinned ; in a third, 
 
. 68 
 
 quartered: in a fourth, the entrails are separated and cleansed', 
 in a fifth, the fat is boiled in an immense kettle. There are, 
 besides, spacious stables, where the unconscious victims are 
 sheltered, and amply supplied with food and straw, while 
 awaiting their fate. It made me quite sad to behold them 
 eating and reposing so calmly, and then to think of their 
 Woody destiny! The " Abattoirs" are liberally watered 
 and often washed, and therefore no disagreeable odour is 
 'perceptible about them. I wish our butchers would folr 
 low the example of their French brethren as regards these 
 places ! 
 
 We had the gratification of meeting with Lady Morgan 
 last night at Madame B — — 's. Mamma had a great deal 
 of conversation with her, and found her extremely affable 
 and agreeable. You know we were told she was ugly — we 
 do not think her so, but she certainly dresses too girlishly, 
 rouges too highly, and seems too desirous of admiration. 
 This cannot be said of Mrs. Opie, to whom we were also 
 introduced. She was as plain in her attire as a dark grey 
 silk gown, and a white muslin kerchief and cap, could make 
 her. In her manners she is unaffected; in her conversation, 
 animated and intelligent. Her countenance is open and 
 expressive of her lively mind. The moment we beheld her, 
 we recognized her as a lady we had seen at a Quaker meet- 
 ing, which we attended, from motives of curiosity, on Sun- 
 day. A Quaker meeting in Paris! you will exclaim. 
 Even so, my dear, for what is lliere on the face of the earth 
 
69 
 
 (that depends not on soil or climate) which may not be found 
 in this bustling capitol? The meeting was held in a house 
 in the Champs Elysees, belonging to a Quaker family with 
 whom Mr J), was acquainted, and who gave him a cheerful 
 permission to bring wuth him, whenever he w^ished it, any 
 friends desirous of going there. We were shewn into a 
 neat parlor, where about twenty persons w^ere sitting in 
 solemn silence, and for nearly an hour not abound was heard, 
 save the occasional sneezes of an old lady who had a violent 
 cold in her head. At length, however, the spirit moved a 
 dark-eyed gentleman, and he gave us a tolerable sermon. I 
 conclude with love from all of us to yourself, aunt M. and Al- 
 bert, and to our relations and friends in the vicinity of Morven 
 Lodge. I have not always room for affectionate messages, 
 or be assured they would always be inserted. 
 
 Leontine. 
 
 LETTER FOURTEENTH. 
 
 Soiree at General Lafayette'^ s — Benjamin Constant — Messrs. Per- 
 rier, Lafitte and Ternaux, S^c, — " Conservatory of Arts and 
 Trades^^ — Dioraraa — Georania — Ndorania — " Royal Printing 
 Office*^ — Manufactory of Plate Glass — Hospital of the Quinze 
 Vingts — Castle of Vincennes — Fountain of the Elephant — 
 Franconi's Circus — The Duchess of BerrVs family, 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 Dear Jane : — 
 
 Another busy week of pleasure and amusement has glided 
 
 by since you have heard from us, and two evenings of it have 
 
70 
 
 been spent at two delightful soirees. The first at Madame 
 de N 's ; the second, at the galhnt old General Lafa- 
 yette^ s, in the rue d- Anjou ; where he has a suite of small 
 and neat apartments, illuminated for the reception of his ex- 
 pected guests on every Tuesday evening. We made our 
 debut there about 9 o'clock, and found them crowded. 
 Among the throng there were many celebrated and interest- 
 ing personages, for the worthy and enlightened of all na- 
 tions seem ever ready to do homage to the virtuous patri- 
 arch of Lagrange. At his soirees the greatest ease prevails — 
 the refreshments are simple and plentiful ; and in compli- 
 ment to the Americans and English, tea is always served, a 
 custom not practised among the French. We again saw 
 Sir Charles and Lady Morgan and Mrs. Opie, with whom, 
 by the bye, we have exchanged visits. Then there was the 
 orator, Benjamin Constant; a pale, thin man, with light blue 
 eyes and snowy hair, looking as if he were far on his pass- 
 age to the next world. He was environed by a crowd of 
 gentlemen, to whom he was speaking very earnestly with a 
 great deal of gesture. Not far from him we observed other 
 stars of the Chamber of Deputies, and these were Mes- 
 sieurs Casimir Perrier, Lafitte and Ternaux, whose coun- 
 tenances bespeak their noble minds. Monsieur Ternaux 
 has introduced here, and carries on the manufacture of cash- 
 mere shawls, and they not only equal those of India in tints 
 and texture, but surpass them in the beauty and richness of 
 the borders. To him also is attributed the discovery of the 
 
71 
 
 art of stamping patterns in relief on cloth table covers, &c. 
 In the next room, we saw Mr. Cooper, the American no- 
 velistj and his lady — the two Miss P— --— 's, cousins of Lord 
 Byron, and Mr. and Mrs. — — . She is the daughter of 
 Gen. Bertrand, and a beautiful creature she is. The lovely 
 Countess d'A— — was sitting near her. She is the sister 
 of Madame George W. Lafayette, and is an intelligent and 
 fascinating woman. She called here yesterday, with Madame 
 Lasteyrie and her daughters. 
 
 It is now time to speak of some of the curiosities of Paris, 
 to which we have recently been devoting our nsornings. 1 
 believe the " conservatory of arts and trades^^ stands firs! 
 on the list. It is also termed the ^'museum of industry,'^ 
 and is a collection of all sorts of machines and models, pat- 
 terns and specimens of things that French genius and labor 
 have produced ; for the government obliges every French- 
 man to deposit here a sample or model of whatever he im- 
 proves or invents, and to accompany it with an account of its 
 manufacture or construction. Besides several halls exhibiting 
 machines and models, there are others filled with specimens 
 of porcelain, glass, stone ware, lace, silks, ribbons, tapestry, 
 colored and stamped paper, scissors, knives, fans, watches, 
 clocks, lamps, and a thousand other articles. One of the 
 halls contains a number of miniature buildings, represent- 
 ing sundry manufactories. They are open in front, and dis- 
 play in different apartments the various processes of each 
 business, and the implements required in it. not omitting the 
 
73 
 
 most trifling tool. Another hall contains a library of 10,000 
 volumes, written in almost every language, and treating on 
 subjects connected with the purport of the establishment — 
 and professors of geometry and natural philosophy give lec- 
 tures there to such pupils as are recommended by the minis- 
 ter of the interior. Would it not be shameful if the French 
 nation did not rapidly progress in the arts and sciences, 
 vvhen the government is so liberal in encouraging them, by 
 affording those persons who possess talents every advan- 
 tage gratuitously, so that the poor may rise as well as the 
 rich, if blessed with abilities? Among the patterns of ta- 
 pestry is one, concerning which a droll story is related, viz : 
 that Vaucanson, a skilful mechanic, being offended with the 
 inhabitants of Lyons for undervaluing some looms he had 
 invented, tied an ass to one of them, and made him execute 
 the piece of embroidery from which this specimen was cuty 
 and which excelled any they had ever done. 
 
 We have also visited the Diorama, the Georama and the 
 Neorama^ the royal printing office, the manufactory of plate 
 glass, and the hospital of the ^' Quinze Vingts.'' A diorama 
 you have seen. A georama is a panoramic representation 
 of the earth, with its divisions of land and water ; the spec- 
 tator standing in the centre. A neorama is a painting, so 
 ingeniously designed and arranged as to produce the illusion 
 of your being within whatever building it represents. The 
 one we saw is a picture of the interior of St. Peter's at Rome, 
 and M. Dorval, who has been there, says it is an exact copy. 
 
 4 
 
73 
 
 The royal printing office is an establishment of great 
 magnitude. There is a vast collection of types and several 
 hundred presses. We were informed that Pope Pius VII 
 visited this office during his sojourn in Paris, and that while 
 he was there the Lord's prayer was printed in no less than 
 150 languages and presented to him. 
 
 At the plate glass manufactory, we beheld mirrors of 
 wonderful magnitude. The plates are cast at Cherbourg 
 and at St. Gobin, (a castle in the department of Aisne,) and 
 sent here to be quick-silvered and polished. Eight hun- 
 dred workmen are constantly employed in the business. 
 The French are indebted to the great Colbert for this 
 establishment ; prior to its foundation, plate glass could only 
 be had by sending for it to Venice. 
 
 Having satisfied our curiosity here, we proceeded to the 
 hospital of the ^' Quinze Vingts/^ founded by St. Louis in 
 1220 for the maintenance of 300 blind — a larger number is 
 now admitted. It was customary in the age of St. Louis 
 to count by twenties; and there being 15 twenties in 300, this 
 institution derived its appellation from having that number 
 of pensioners. We were pleased with the neatness and 
 comfort that reigned, and arrived there just in time to hear 
 a class of the blind sing and play ; for those wlio evince a 
 talent for music are instructed in it. The women were the 
 vocalists; and the men performed on various instruments. 
 Even the leader was sightless ! They kept time very well, 
 and we enjoyed their concert exceedingly, though the dis- 
 
74 
 
 torted faces some made while singing were horrible. They 
 are taught a variety of trades, and not only reading, but the 
 art of printing; and we saw a man arrange the types and 
 print several words with both skill and quickness. The 
 types were extremely large and made of wood, and no ink 
 was used in the operation; but the letters pressed on the pa- 
 per, so as to leave the traces of them perceptible to the 
 slightest touch. 
 
 On Wednesday we went to the castle ofVincennes, a 
 gothic fortress, about three miles from the city. It con- 
 tains the state prisotis and an armory. A note to the com- 
 mandant: from Mr. Warden, the American Ex-Consul, and 
 a kind friend of the Danvilles, gained us admission, and we 
 spent two hours in examining the castle, within whose gloomy 
 turrets, nobles and monarchs have sighed in captivity. The 
 celebrated Mirabeau was a prisoner there during four years, 
 and there wrote his letters between Gabriel and Sophie. 
 The duke d'Engliien was shot in a moat of this castle : the 
 spot where the execution took p'ace is designated by a wil- 
 low tree and a black column, bearing this inscription, ''Here 
 he fell." In the chapel is a handsome mausoleum enclosing 
 his ashes. Returning from Vincennes, we stopped on the 
 Place dela Basi'de (once occupied by that terrific build- 
 ing) to view the model of the fountain of the Elephant. It 
 is of plaster, and 72 feet high. A tower on the animaFs 
 back is to serve as a reservoir for the water which is to 
 flow from the proboscis, and one of the legs is to contain the 
 
75 
 
 stair-case leading to the tower. The whole mass is to be of 
 bronze, but it is doubtful if this grand fountain will ever be 
 made ; it was one of Napoleon's gigantic designs, which ad- 
 versity and death prevented his accomplishing. Last night 
 w^e witnessed the w^onder of an Elephant acting a part in a 
 play at the Cirque Olympique, a theatre of the same descrip- 
 tion as that of Ashley's in London. The house was crowd- 
 ed almost to suffocation, and the docile and astonishing crea- 
 ture excited universal admiration by her performance. She 
 is called ^^ Mam'selle Dyjeck/' is a native of the island of 
 Ceylon, and wms purchased from somiC Indian jugglers by 
 Monsieur Huguet, her present owner. She is so attached to 
 him, that she shews evident distress if he is long absent from 
 her, and extreme delight when he returns. If he be fa- 
 tigued or indisposed, it is said that she even undresses him, 
 puts him to bed, and watches by him while he rests. Tra- 
 vellers, I know, are expected to exaggerate^ bnt I assure you 
 lam not availing myself of the privilege in the present in- 
 stance. The play w^as entitled "FElephant du roi de Siam," 
 and was written expressly to exhibit the address and sagaci- 
 ty of M'lle Dyjeck, who really acted throughout as if she 
 were a human being. At the close of the performance, the 
 audience vociferated for her re-appearance; and after a few 
 moments elapsed, the curtain rose, and the royal lady came 
 forth, proudly tossing her trunk. She advanced to the edge 
 of the stage and made three courtesies, retreating all the 
 while; and looking round on the spectators as she rose, until 
 
76 
 
 she had sufficiently receded, she walked off* amidst a roar of 
 applause. It was quite an inspiring scene. The Duchess 
 of Berri and her suite were present. 
 
 Apropos — Madame F. lately gave us a most interesting 
 account of her Highness' children, the little Duke of Bor- 
 deaux and M'lle Louise. She says they are both remarka- 
 bly amiable ; and le petit Due holds a levee daily, is dressed 
 en militaire^ and assumes all the airs of a grown gentleman. 
 He is so proud of his sword, that the severest penalty his 
 tutor can inflict, when he misbehaves, is to deprive him of it. 
 He is a pretty boy: we have ofien met him taking an airing 
 in his coach and four surrounded by gens d'armes ; for the 
 Bourbons are so unpopular, that for fear of his sharing the 
 fate of his father, he is always strongly guarded whenever 
 he appears in public. He pays dearly for his lineage, poor 
 little fellow ! and I never see him without thinking sorrow- 
 fully of the probability of his perishing by the ruthless hand 
 of an assassin. But mercy ! what a packet. Have patience, 
 
 dearest ! with your 
 
 Leontine. 
 
 LETTER FIFTEENTH. 
 
 Foundling Hospital — Hotel Carnavalet — Count de Segur, 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 My Dear Jane : — 
 
 This morning, we visited the Foundling Hospital. Be- 
 ing told we should go there very early to behold the empty- 
 
77 
 
 ing of the baskets in which the babes are deposited at the 
 gate daring the night, we hastened there ere seven o'clock ; 
 but we had been misinformed, and were disappointed in our 
 wishes. The infants are carried there at all hours ; none, 
 however, were received during our visit. 
 
 We were conducted through the numerous wards, and saw 
 many forsaken little creatures — a distressing sight, indeed ! 
 Then to behold the sufferings of such as were diseased ! 
 Some of them lying on hard beds, with a bright light from 
 opposite windows torturing their eyes, which were generally 
 inflamed from being thus exposed. Some of the nurses, too, 
 were exceedingly rough. For instance, in an apartment 
 attached to the sick wards, four or five women were occu- 
 pied in dosing and feeding several babies : one of them 
 asked another, who stood by a table, to hand her a spoon ; 
 instead of handing it, she threw it, and so carelessly, that the 
 poor child received a blow on the cheek. I could have 
 boxed the vixen ! Each infant is swathed, and wears on 
 its wrist a piece of pewter, telling the hour, the day of the 
 month, and the year, of its reception at the hospital ; this 
 enables a parent, who may desire to reclaim a child, to find 
 it. About six thousand children are annually received here, 
 and frequently as many as twenty in the course of a day. A 
 considerable number are sent into the country to be nursed ; 
 and during our stay, a half a dozen carts drove off, filled 
 with peasant women and their helpless charges. The des- 
 
 tinv of those we thought enviable, when compared with that 
 
 f2 
 
78 
 
 of those who remained. At two years of age, the children 
 
 are removed to another hospital, and there instructed unril 
 
 old enough to be put to some trade. 
 
 After breakfost, we visited a place of a more pleasing 
 
 description ; this w^as the Hotel de Carnavalet, formerly the 
 
 residence of Madame de Sevigne. It is now inhabited by a 
 
 Monsieur de P , an eminent engineer, with whom we 
 
 have become acquainted, and who kindly invited us there, 
 
 to see the very chamber and cabinet occupied by that lady, 
 
 when she penned those charming letters to the Countess de 
 
 Grignan. The window of the cabinet overlooks a small 
 
 garden^ in which is a flourishing yew tree, that was planted 
 
 by Madame de Sevigne herself. As I viewed it, and thought 
 
 of her who reared it, Lord Byron's beautiful lines on the cj^- 
 
 press came forcibly to my mind. 
 
 *' Dark tree ! still sad when other's grief is fled, 
 The only constant mourner o'er the dead." 
 
 The charming old Count de Segur has returned to town, 
 and we have paid him our respects at his residence in the 
 Rue Duphot. He was here yesterday, and invited us to dine 
 with him en famille to-day; we are going, and I shall 
 close my letter with an account of the party, when we come 
 back. At presentj I must abandon the w- riting desk for the 
 toilet table. 
 
 Eleven at night. We reached home a half an hour since, 
 and having changed my dress for a robe de chambre, behold 
 me quite at my ease, and again in possession of the pen, 
 
79 
 
 We spent our hours delightfully at the Count's ! On 
 alighting there, we were for some minutes sole tenants of 
 the parlor, and thus had an opportunity of examining a 
 Ijeautiful portrait that decorates the wall of the room, and 
 which, we afterwards learned, is that of the Countess de 
 Segur, It was painted duiing her youth, and if the re^ 
 semblance be a good one^she must have been a lovely crcas 
 ture ! Our observations were interrupted by the entrance 
 of the Count from his library, adjoining the parlor — ^and 
 our circle was soon increased by the addition of several 
 French gentlemen, to whom he introduced us, but I quite 
 forget their names. One of them had recently been in 
 Greece, and described a horrible scene of carnage he wit- 
 nessed there. In the evening, the Count had many visiters, 
 this beins^ the time he prefers his friends to call on him. 
 Among those who came in, was the authoress of '' Adele de 
 Senange," that interesting novel we read together last win- 
 ter. You may depend I heard the name of Madame de 
 Susa announced with great satisfaction. She entered, and 
 we beheld a plain looking woman, apparently about fifty 
 years old. Then there was Monsieur de Marbois, w^ho 
 wrote the history of Louisiana, one of the United States; 
 and Count Philip de Segur, author of the " Russian Cam- 
 paign," who is considered the ablest military historian of 
 the age. I am now so sleepy, I can write no more ; so bid 
 you, in the name of all of us, a fond adieu. 
 
 Leontine. 
 
80 
 
 LETTER SIXTEENTH. 
 
 Saint Denis — Montmorency — the Rendezvous — the Hermitage — 
 Englden — Mass at ike Tuileries' Chapel — the Bourbons,, 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 Dear Jane i 
 
 Marcella Erisford has arrived, accompanied by her father, 
 who returns to Soissons to-morrow. He has been residing 
 there eleven months, in order to settle some business, rela- 
 tive to a legacy left him by an intimate friend ; in the 
 spring he expects to re-embark for Philadelphiaj his native 
 city. He resembles his sister, Mrs. Danville, and appears 
 equally amiable and desirous of contributing to the happi- 
 ness of those around him. We shall sincerely regret his 
 departure. Marcella is quite a beauty, with her glowing 
 cheeks, hazel eyes and pearly teeth, although her features 
 are by no means regular. She is less lovely than Leonora, 
 but just as intelligent and accomplished ; so you see I have 
 two delightful companions to console me (if it were possi- 
 ble) for your absence. Our brother Edgar is, I think, des- 
 perately smitten with Marcella ; certes, when she is by, he 
 has neither eyes or ears for anybody or anything else. 
 
 Now for our peregrinations, The weather being remark- 
 ably fine on Tuesday, and the carriages at the door by 9 
 o'clock, according to order^ we proceeded to Montmorency 
 and the Abbey of St. Denis. Oh, how your pensive spirit 
 w^ill luxuriate in wandering through the solemn aisles and 
 caverns of this ^^ hoary pile/' among the sepulchres of its 
 
81 
 
 mighty dead ! You are aware that, during the revolution, 
 this asylum of deceased royalty, was invaded by a barbar- 
 ous populace, who dragged the corpses from their graves, 
 loaded them with indignities, and cast them into ditches and 
 other places of filth. It is related, that the corpse of the 
 brave Louis XIV, when thus profaned, raised its arm, as if 
 to strike the miscreant who dared the deed, while that of 
 the good Henry Quatre (which was found uninjured by 
 time) smiled benignantly on his ungrateful subjects ! The 
 tombs have since been restored by Napoleon, who intended 
 for himself, and his descendants, the vault which is appro- 
 priated to the Bourbons. It is secured by two massive 
 bronze gates, w^hich he had made to close upon his own 
 ashes, that now repose under a simple stone on the b rren 
 island of St. Helena ! So changes the glory of this world 
 and its mighty ones ! 
 
 The Abbey of Saint Denis was originally a plain chapel, 
 erected by a pious and Vv'ealthy lady named Catnlla, to 
 shelter the remains of that martyr (St. Denis) and his com- 
 panions, after their execution. The generosity and care of 
 various monarchs, have transferred the humble chapel into 
 the present majestic cathedral. The relics of St. Denis are 
 enclosed in a splendid shrine, the gift of Louis XVIII ; and 
 the sumptuous altar in front of this, with its enormous gold 
 candlesticks, was given to the church by Bonaparte^ after 
 his marriage with the Empress Marie Louise, on which oc- 
 casion it w^as first erected in the Louvre, where the cere- 
 
mony was performed. In the side isles of St. Denis, are 
 several superb monuments, in memory of Francis I, Henry 
 II, and Henry III, and their Queens. The antique sepul- 
 chres of Dagobert, and his spouse Natilde, are near the 
 door, and that of Dagobeit is most curiously carved. In 
 one of the vaults we saw the' stone coffin of King Pepin ; it 
 is open and empty, and when struck on the side, sounds like 
 metal. Near the mausoleum of Francis the I, stands the 
 mimic bier of Louis XVIII, canopied and richly decorated 
 with funeral ornaments. It will remain until succeeded by 
 that of Charles X, for such is the custom of France. What 
 gave rise to it I knovv' not ; but we may reasonably suppose 
 that it was intended, like the monitor of Philip of Macedon, 
 to remind the reigning monarch of his mortality. 
 
 At Montmorency we had fine sport, riding about on don- 
 keys to the different points of vievv'^ that merit notice for 
 their beauty. The little animal upon which Mr, Erisford 
 rode, was at first extremely refractory, and the trouble he 
 had to force it along excited our mirth ; then my saddle girth 
 broke, and this was another source of merriment. After 
 riding over the valley, we alighted at the hunting seat of 
 the unhappy father of the murdered Duke d'Fnghien, the 
 present Prince of Conde, who is said to be yet overwhelm- 
 ed with affliction at the untimely and cruel end of his noble 
 son. The place is called the '^ Rendezvous ;'^ it is shady 
 and pleasant — the house a plain stone building : we did not 
 enter it, but partook of some cool milk beneath the trees, 
 
83 
 
 in front of the door. We purchased it of- the game-keeper 
 and his wife, who reside there. 
 
 Retracing our path, (and the little donkeys, I assure you, 
 trotted back riiucli faster than they went^) w^e stopped at the 
 Hermitage. This is the most interesting object to be seen at 
 Montmorency , and indeed the chief attraction to that 
 spot — although circunistances induced us to defer our visit 
 to it till the last. It is a quarter of a mile from the village, 
 and w^as the residence of Jean Jacques Rousseau, and after- 
 wards of Andrew Gretry, the musical composer, whose 
 family still occupy it. They are so obliging as to allow 
 strangers to visit this rural retreat of those celebrated men, 
 and have arranged, in a small apartment, various articles that 
 were owned and used by them, and that are consequently 
 interesting to the spectator ; for instance, the bedstead and 
 table of Rousseau; the cup and saucer of Gretry ; his comb 
 and spectacles^ and the antique little spinet upon which he 
 tried his compositions. A flower garden adjoins the man- 
 sion, and there we saw a rose bush that w^as plant(,'d by 
 Jean Jacques, and the stone bench upon which he used to 
 sit while writing his '•' Hcloise.'' From the bay tree that 
 shades it, I procured a leaf for your herbarium. A rivulet 
 meanders through the garden, and empties into a small lake, 
 near which is the bust of Gretry, supported by a column, 
 with an inscription in ^ilt letters. Rou-seau's bust occupies 
 a niche in the wall, and is covered w^ith a glass to protect 
 it from the pencils of scribblers, which have disfigured it 
 considerably. 
 
84 
 
 Bidding adieu to the Hermitage, we returned to the 
 "White Horse," an excellent inn we had selected in the 
 tow^n, and, having recruited ourselves w^ith a hearty dinner, 
 resumed our seats upon the donkeys, and repaired to the 
 village of d'Enghien, (a mile distant,) to see its neat and 
 commodious sulphur baths, and the pretty lake of St. Gra- 
 tien, on the border of which it stands. In the centre of the 
 w^ater is a restaurant, to which, if you choose, you are con- 
 veyed in a boat; but it was so late, that our parents would 
 not consent to make this aquatic excursion, and we there- 
 fore returned to Montmorency, and thence to Paris. A 
 bright moon lighted us home, where we arrived about 11 
 o'clock, pleased with our day's adventures, and so sleepy 
 we could scarcely reach our chambers w^ithout falling into a 
 slumber on the way. 
 
 On Sunday, Mr. Dorval brought us six tickets of admis- 
 sion to the Chapel of the Tuileries, whei-e high mass is per- 
 formed every Sabbath, while the king is in the city. Not a 
 moment was to be lost, so we hastened to array ourselves 
 for the occasion, as full dress is required, if you sit in the 
 gallery with the royal family, and our billets were such as 
 to admit us there. Marcella, Leonora and myself had just 
 purchased new bonnets, and these we wore. Their's are 
 of straw colored crape, ornamented with blond and bunches 
 of lilacs, and are very becoming ; mine is of pink, and de- 
 corated with blond and white hyacynths. Our party, con- 
 sisting of mamma, papa, Edgar, and our three ladyships, 
 
85 
 
 was soon ready and at the palace. The chapel was crowd* 
 ed, but we found no difficulty in obtaining seats— for, on. 
 presenting our tickets, the captain of the guards handed us 
 to them, and the throng yielded to him without hesitation. 
 The music was very fine, and we had a close view of the 
 Bourbons and their suite. They were sumptuously clad, 
 and the King and Duke and Duchess of Angouleme seem- 
 ed very devout. The Duchess has a most melancholy ex- 
 pression of countenance; owing, perhaps, to the sad vicis- 
 situdes of her youth. Neither she, her spouse or uncle are 
 popular. The Dutchess de Berri is exceedingly so, and is 
 considered one of the mos,t charitable ladies in the kingdom. 
 She is extremely fair, has light hair and a pleasing face. 
 She is not sufficiently dignified, I think, and is a terrible 
 fidget ; during service, she was continually a.djusting her 
 tucker, necklace, or sleeve. It is reported, that when the 
 omnibuses, or circulating carriages of the Boulevards, were 
 first introduced, she made a bet with the king that she would 
 ride in one of them, and actually did so, in disguise ! I am 
 summoned to the parlor to receive visiters— so kiss my hand 
 
 to you. 
 
 Leontine. 
 
 P. S. Our guests proved to be General and Mr. George 
 Washington Lafayette. They came to take leave of us ere 
 their departure for La Grange. The Chamber of Deputies 
 havinoulissolved,they goto the country to-morrow, where the 
 rest of the family have already established themselves. We 
 
86 
 
 have been so pressingly invited to pay them a visit, that we 
 have determined to do so, and anticipate great pleasure and 
 gfatification from spending a day or two in the midst of this 
 charming and highly respected family. Again adieu. L. 
 
 LETTER SEYENTEETH. 
 
 The Garden of Plants — T7ie Camel Leapard — The Library^ 
 Museum^ and Cahinet of Anatomy — Manufactory of Gohelin 
 Tapestry. 
 
 PARIS; . 
 
 Dear Jane : 
 
 I do not wonder that you are surprised at my not having 
 yet described to you the ^- Royal Garden of Plants/' The 
 fact is, we have been thrice disappointed in our arrange- 
 ments to go there, but at last have accomplished our pro- 
 ject, and devoted both Tuesday and Wednesday to the in- 
 vestigation of this famed spot, and we have seen nothing in 
 Paris that has interested us more. It is of great extent, 
 and affords the visiter as much information as amusement 
 
 It was founded by Jean de Brosses, the physician of Louis 
 
 * 
 
 XIII, and much improved by the exertions of BufFon, the 
 naturalist. It contains various enclosures, some of which 
 are appropriated to botany, and display every plant, flower 
 and shrub, native and foreign, that can be made to grow 
 there. Each is labelled^ and bears its botanical name ; and 
 there are spacious hot-houses for such as require shelter and 
 
87 
 
 extreme care. We remarked here some fine specimens of 
 
 the bread tree and sugar cane. Other enclosures are filled 
 
 with all sorts of culinary vegetables. There are, besides, 
 
 nurseries of fruit trees and samples o! different kinds of 
 
 fences, hedges and ditches, and of various soils and manures. 
 
 The enclosures are separated by wide gravel walks, 
 
 **Bouiided by trees, with seats beneath the shade, 
 For talking age and whispering lovers made." 
 
 In the centre of the garden is an artificial hill, crowned with 
 a temple, from whieh you enjoy a view of the city, and may 
 aid your sight with a spy glass, by paying a trifle to a man 
 who owns it and generally sits there, for the purpose of 
 hiring it, and indicating to strangers the names of the pub- 
 lic edifices visible in the prospective. On the way to the 
 temple, you pass under a huge and towering cedar of Leba- 
 non, which De Jussieu, the botanist, planted more than 
 eighty years ago. This superb tree was considerably in- 
 jured during the revolution ; and bad it not been for the 
 remonstrances and influence of Humboldt, the traveller, the 
 whole garden would probably be now in a ruinous condi- 
 tion — "for when the allies were in Paris, it was owing to his 
 exertions that the Prussians were prevented encamping 
 ther<Ei. 
 
 The menagerie exhibits the greatest variety of animals. 
 The ferocious are kept in iron cages ; those that are gentle, 
 in enclosures and habitations suitable to their propensities 
 and natures, and embellished with such trees and shrubs as 
 
83 
 
 are found in their native dimes. Goats, for instance, are 
 furnished with artificial acclivities for climbing, and bears 
 with dens and rugged posts. The populace often thow bis- 
 cuit^ and fruit to the bears, in order to witness their endea- 
 vors to catch them ; but this is dangerous diversion, for in 
 doing this, a boy was not sufficiently alert in his movements, 
 and, ere he withdrew his arm, had it severely lacerated by the 
 eager animal. On another occasion, a careless nurse, while 
 amusing herself in a similar manner, let a child fall in, which 
 was instantly devoured! Among the gentlest and most 
 curious of the quadrupeds, is th e giraff, or camel leopard, 
 which was brought from Africa about two years ago, and 
 threw all Paris into commotion. Thousands visited him 
 daily, and belts, reticules, gloves, kerchiefs, and even cakes 
 and blanc manges, were decorated with his image. It is said 
 that he possesses both sagacity and sensibility, to prove 
 which the following anecdote is related of him. As his 
 keepers were bringing him to Paris, they were joined by a 
 man on horseback, who continued to bear them company for 
 several miles, until he came to another road. The girafF, 
 which had manifested o-reat delio-ht when the traveller first 
 appeared, then evinced deep distress, and even shed tears ! 
 Upon inquiry, it was found that the traveller's horse and the 
 girafi w^ere from the same part of Africa, and probably old 
 acquaintances. This is a marvellous story, I must confess ; 
 nevertheless, many persons believe it. I will now tell you 
 another less incredible, and which shews to what perfection 
 
89 
 
 the flower makers here carry their art. The girafF is very 
 fond of rose leaves ; and not long since, seeing a bunch of 
 artificial roses in a lady's bonnet, and thinking thera natural, 
 he seized hojcj of them, and pulled with such force, that he 
 soon had possession of hat and all. It must have been a 
 ludicrous scene. He is so delicate, that strict attention is 
 obliged to be paid to his food and lodging. The first con- 
 sists of delicate vegetables, and the heat of the last is re- 
 gulated by a thermometer ; and his African attendant sleeps 
 near to guard him and supply his wants. Leaving the 
 quadrupeds, we proceeded to look at the birds, which are 
 also admirably arranged. The water fowls have their pools 
 an,d lakes — the ostrich its sands, and so on. 
 
 I have now detailed what we saw on Tuesday. On 
 Wednesday, we returned to the garden, and examined the 
 Library, the Museum of Natural History, and the Cabinet 
 of Comparative Anatomy, where, for the first time in my 
 life, I beheld the human form, divested of its skin and flesh, 
 and changed to a machine ot dried bones and sinews, and 
 bloodless veins I The sight made me shudder, and I felt 
 relieved when we came away. 
 
 Not far from the Garden of Plants, at the corner of the 
 Rue Mouffetarde, is the celebrated manufactory of Gobelin 
 Tapestry, which derives its name from a dyer who first own- 
 ed the establishment, and employed himself in coloring 
 worsteds. Colbert, the patriotic champion of the arts and 
 
 sciences, during his ministry, occasioned the rise and per- 
 
 g2 
 
90 
 
 fection of it in the following manner. He engaged work- 
 men to weave tapestry in imitation of that of Flanders. 
 The attempt succeeded, and such has been the proficiency 
 of those who have since carried on the work^ that their pro- 
 ductions are now equal to any others of the kind. You 
 may imagine what care and expense is required in the busi^ 
 ness, when I inform you that a. single piece of tapestry fre- 
 quently demands two'years' labor to finish it, and has cost 
 almost three hundred pounds sterling! 
 
 The clock is striking two. and I must prepare for a ride in 
 the Bois de Boulogne. It being a dehghtful afternoon, we 
 shall no doubt f^nd it alive with carriages, pedestrians and 
 equestrians. Those who repair there in coaches, usually 
 drive to a pleasant spot, and then descend to walk to and 
 fro in the shade, for air and exercise, until the approach of 
 the dinner hour, or some other engagement calls them else-r 
 
 where. Farewelh 
 
 Leontine, 
 
 LETTER EIGHTEENTH. 
 
 Ceremony of taJring the Veil — Palace of the IVarm Baths^ a Ro- 
 man Ruin. 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 Oh! Jane, how we wished for you yesterday ! Early in 
 
 the morning we received a note from Madame F , saying 
 
 that if the ladies of our party would like to witness the 
 
91 
 
 ceremony of '^ taking the veil," and would repair to her 
 house by nine o'clock, she would accompany them to a 
 neighboring coavent, where it was to be performed about the 
 hour of ten. The Abbess being her friend and cousin, she 
 had obtained her consent to our attending on the occasion, 
 in case we wished it. We wished it, you may be sure, and 
 her kindness was eagerly and thankfully accepted. On 
 reaching the convent, its portals were opened by two of the 
 
 sisterhood; who greeted Madame F very cordially, 
 
 made their curtsies to us, and then conducted us to the gal- 
 lery of a small chapel, the main body of which was filled 
 with nuns clad in black, and seated on rows of benches, each 
 side of the aisle. In the centre of it, upon a damask chair, 
 sat a young lady richly dressed. She wore a yellow silk 
 frock trimmed with lace, white satin shoes, long white kid 
 gloves, and ornaments of pearl. A wreath of orange blos- 
 soms mingled and contrasted with her dark hair, and were 
 
 partly concealed by a flowing veil. Madame F related 
 
 her history, and, to our surprise, we learned she Vv^as an 
 English girl who had been placed in the convent at an early 
 age to be educated. As might have been expected, associa- 
 ting so constantly and closely with Catholics from child- 
 hood, she became one herself; and when her parents came 
 over to France for the purpose of carrying her home, they 
 found her resolved on becoming a nun. Having tried in 
 vain to dissuade her from it, they at length yielded to her 
 entreaties, and were even present when she took the vows; 
 
92 
 
 jand as they did not appear distressed on the occasion, I supr 
 .pose they had finally become reconciled to their bereave- 
 ment. But to proceed to the ceremony. 
 
 Long prayers were said, incense scattered, and a fine 
 hymn chanted — the novice kneeling down before a table 
 .covered with a crimson cloth, and reclining her head upon 
 ft, in hurpble submission to that Divine Power to whom she 
 was dedicating her heart and days ! When the music ceased, 
 the Abbess advanced, and, taking her hand, led her out 
 through a side door ; and while they were absent, a nun 
 distributed among the sisterhood a number of large wax 
 candles, which she afterwards illumined. The Abbess now 
 re-entered with her charge, and prayers and incense were 
 again offered, a second hymn sung, and the novice had her 
 hair, or a portion of it, cut off; she then prostrated herself 
 before the altar, and a black pall was cast over her, to sig- 
 nify she was dead to the world. On rising, she retired a 
 second time v;ith the Superior, and in a few minutes re-ap- 
 peared, clad in the habiliments of the cloister, and went 
 round the chapel to receive the kiss of congratulation and 
 welcome fro^i each of the community ; after which the 
 lights were extinguished, and every one departed^ leaving 
 her to solitude, meditation and prayer, until the vesper bell 
 should tell the hour for rejoining her. How awful I felt 
 while a spectator of the solemn scene; and how strange, is 
 it not ? that reflecting beings, who know the fickleness of 
 human nature — that ^^ nature's mighty law is change'^— can 
 
93 
 
 tenture thus to bind themselves for life to stay in one limited 
 space, and pursue one unvaried mode of existence ! I hope 
 and think I love religion truly ; but I am sure, if I were a 
 saint upon earthy I should never hide my light in a monas- 
 tery. 
 
 I ought to mention, that except the father and brothers 
 of the new nuiij no gentlemen were admitted to the cere- 
 mony ; and I ought also to state that she was very pretty. 
 Leonora says that, notwithstanding the scene and place, she 
 was constantly imagining the interference of some brave 
 youth, to save the fair creature from her fate, by rushing in 
 and bearing her off hy force ; but alas ! the age of chivalry 
 is long past, and now-a-days a hero in love would be thought 
 a prodigy and hard to find, unless, perhaps, he was sought 
 for in a certain old-fashioned fabric in the vicinity of Mor- 
 ven Lodge. There, peradventure, such an extraor dinar 1/ 
 personage mxight he discovered. 
 
 From the convent vre drove to what is called the "Palace 
 of the Warm Baths." This is a relic of Roman antiquity. 
 In itj the Roman emperors, and after their dominion ceased 
 in France, the French monarchs, used to reside. Its foun- 
 dation is attributed to Juhan, the Apostate. The sole re- 
 maining apartments consist of an extensive and lofty hall, 
 and some cells beneath it. The hall is lighted by an im- 
 mense arched window, and its vaulted roof for several ages 
 supported a garden. By this we may judge how firmly and 
 ftrongly the Romans used to build. I cannot, for lack of 
 
04 
 
 space, express to you the kind messages with which I am 
 charged. Suffice it to know, we all love you dearly. 
 
 Leontine. 
 
 r 
 
 LETTER NINETEENTH. 
 
 Visit to Versailles — The Little Trianon — The Grand Trianoii-^ 
 Church of St. Louis, and Monument of the DuJce de Berri — 
 Mendon — Chalk Quarries — Tortoni-s — Wandering Musicians — 
 An Evening at Count Segurs — Children's Fancy Ball, 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 Dear Sistkr :— 
 
 I have really a great mind to give you a scoldings instead 
 of a description, for your perusal. What are you all about 
 at the Lodge, that you have not written to us for this fort- 
 night. Papa and mamma are quite out of patience with 
 you, and desire me to request you will answer this the mo- 
 ment it reaches you. Indeed, I hope you will, for they are 
 evidently uneasy in consequence of your long silence. 
 
 Now, let me tell you of our visit to Versailles. We spent 
 Friday there, and, carrying with us a cold dinner, partook 
 of it under the trees near the Petit Trianon, havincr gained 
 a keen appetite by first walking over the immense palace 
 and its garden ; of the splendors of both you are well aware. 
 We were not much pleased with our rustic mode of eating 
 on the grass, the premises of the table-cloth being frequently 
 mvaded by insects. Like dancing on the turf, such arrange- 
 ments are pleasanter in description than in reality. The 
 
95 
 
 Petit Trianon was the favorite residence of Marie Antoi- 
 nette, and there she passed a great deal of her time, free 
 from the bustle and formality of the court; and devoted to 
 rural occupations. The place still exhibits evidences of her 
 taste and innocent amusements. The grounds are diversi- 
 fied with grottos, cottages, temples, mimic rivers and cas- 
 cades. Then there is a beauttful little music room, a laby- 
 rinth, a dairy, and a lake. The palace is a tasteful edifice, 
 and a part of the furniture is the same that was used by the 
 decapitated queen. 
 
 The Grand Trianon, another palace, situated in the 
 park of Versailles, is superior to this in elegance and em- 
 bellishments, but not half so interesting. The parterre, be-* 
 hind the mansion, teems with Flora's choicest gifts, and re- 
 minded me of the saying, that '-Versailles was the garden 
 of waters ; Marly the garden of trees ; and Trianon that of 
 flowers." In the orangery at Versailles, we were shown an 
 orange tree which is computed to be three hundred years 
 old ! It is denominated ^*The Old Bourbon," and has been 
 the property of several kings of that race. Its trunk and 
 foliage are remarkably thick. The garden and park are 
 five miles in circumference ; and only think of these, and the 
 magnificent structure overlooking them, being completed in 
 seven years ! But, perhaps, did we know the number of 
 workmen employed upon them during that period, the fact 
 would not seem so amazing. 
 
 We rode through the wide streets of the to\vn, visited the 
 
90 
 
 Church of St. Louis, where a simple monument is erected 
 in honor of the Duke de Berri, and then turned our course 
 homewards, stopping for an hour at Mendon, a royal chateau 
 that Napoleon fitted up elegantly for his son ; it is now 
 unoccupied, though I believe the Duke de C — some- 
 times spends a few w^eeks there. A noble avenue leads to 
 the house, and from the terrace in front of it, the prospect 
 is very fine. As we traversed the grounds, guided by an 
 old soldier, we were quite diverted at the astonishment he 
 expressed, on discovering, from an observation of Leonora's, 
 that she and her family were ilmericans. ''Mais comme 
 "i^ous etes blo-ndes !'' cried he, ^'et j'ai toujours entendu dire 
 que les habitans d'Amerique etaient rouges ou noirs!"* 
 
 At the foot of the hill of Mendon, near the banks of the 
 Seine, are large quarries of chalk, that we were told merit- 
 ed our attention ; but it was too late to profit by the infor- 
 mation, and we hastened on to Paris. 
 
 After resting ourselves and drinking tea, we sallied forth 
 again, and strolled on the Boulevards as far as Tortoni's, to 
 eat ices. He is master of a grande cafe, and famous for 
 his ices and dejeunes a la fourchette. His establishment is 
 splendidly illuminated every night, and so thronged w^ith 
 customers, that it is often difficult to procure a seat. Some 
 prefer regaling themselves before the door in their carriages; 
 and there is generally a range of stylish equipages in front 
 
 * But how fair you are ! and I have always heard that the inhabi- 
 tants cf America are red or black. 
 
97 
 
 of the house, filled with lords and ladies, and beaux and 
 belles, partaking of the cooling luxuries of iced lemonade 
 and creams, and listening to the bands of ambulatory musi- 
 cians, that here are always to be found and heard, wherever 
 there is a crowd. They select the popular airs of the 
 theatres and those of the first composers of the day, which 
 are as familiar to the common people as they are to ama- 
 teurs. 
 
 We recently spent another delightful evening at Count 
 Segur's. We found him, as usual, surrounded by thele?arn- 
 ed and refined ; and he met us with his accustomed smile of 
 benevolence and bonhomie. There was a lively young rela- 
 tive of his present, and when mofst of his visiters had de- 
 parted, she insisted on his joining her and myself in playing 
 ^•I'Empereur est Mort," &c., and with the utmost amiability 
 he complied with her wishes. The play of I'Empereur is 
 similar to that termed the "Princess Huncamunca." 
 
 While we were at the Count's, Mr. and Mrs. Danville 
 attended a levee at the Hotel Marine, and the girls accooi?^ 
 
 panied a young friend of Marcella^s (a Miss Y from 
 
 Soissbns) to a fi\ncy ball given by the children of Madame 
 
 Clement's seminary. Miss Y being a pupil, had the 
 
 privilege of inviting two acquaintances, and chose Marcella 
 and Leonora as her guests. They were highly entertained. 
 All the scholars wore costumes, and several supported the 
 characters they assumed with proper spirit. There was a 
 little round, rosy faced girl, of five years old, decked as a 
 
98 
 
 Cupid. She was entwined with a silken drapery, thickly 
 studded with golden stars ; sandals laced on her feet, and a 
 quiver slung over her plump and naked little shoulders ! In 
 her right hand she held a gilt bow, and her curls were con- 
 fined by a glittering bandeau. They danced until ten 
 o'clock, and as none of the masculine gender w^ere admitted, 
 the elder Misses played the part of beaux. I should have 
 liked to join in the frolic, I confess, though not upon condi- 
 tion of foregoing the pleasure we had at No. 13, Rue Du- 
 phot, Count S6gur's residence. 
 
 Papa has presented me a beautiful watch, and intends 
 purchasing another for you. With tender regards to aunt 
 M and Albert, I remain your attached sister, 
 
 Leontine, 
 
 LETTER TWENTlfLTil. 
 
 Mechanical Theatre — The Boulevards — The derivation of the 
 
 term. 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 *'Joy ! joy!'^ cried I, on looking out of the window yes- 
 terday, and spying Arnaud returning from the post office 
 with a letter, which, according to our wishes, proved to be 
 from our naughty Jane. Arrant scribbler that I am, I hasten 
 to answer it, though you must feel you do not deserve to be 
 replied to so speedily. However, as this is the first time you 
 have been negligent, we ought not to be relentless — so here 
 
99 
 
 iwS my hand in token of forgiveness and good will ; but be- 
 ware of repeating the offence. 
 
 Having finished my lecture, and knowing you are fond of 
 listening to adventures, I will now recount a droll one that 
 happened to us last evening. At sunset we were w\ilking 
 on the Boulevard du Temple, which abounds in every variety 
 of the lower order of ^museinent^, when suddenly a violent 
 shower began to fall, and, of course, every body to scamper 
 to some shelter. We took refuge in the portico of an illu- 
 minated building, entitled, in large transparent letters over 
 the'door, '^Theatre Mecanique,'' and finally determined to 
 enter and witness the acting within. We accordingly pur- 
 chased tickets of the woman employed to sell them, and fol- 
 lowing her up a narrow flight of stairs, were ushered into 
 a confined gallery, overlooking a dirty pit, the highest grade 
 of whose occupants seemed to be that of a cobbler. Four 
 tallow candles lighted the orchestra, \N\ieve two hai^d plying 
 fiddlers performed their tasks. We began to think we might 
 be in "Alsatia !'' and then the actors and actresses ! what 
 were they ? Why. a set of clumsy wooden figures that tot- 
 tered in and out, and were suspended by cords so coarse, as 
 to be visible even amidst the gloom that surrounded them. 
 A ventriloquist made these puppets appear very loquacious ; 
 and, whenever they stopped to make a speech, it was quite 
 ludicrous, for they vacillated to and fro like the pendulum of 
 a clock, for more than a minute. We would have rejoiced 
 
 to get out, but the rain still poured, and we were compelled 
 to remain. 
 
100 
 
 After the piece was concluded, and the fiddlers bad put up 
 their instruments, and were puffing out and pocketing the 
 bits of candles, and we were reluctantly preparing to issue 
 forth into the storm, up came the above mentioned vender 
 of billets, (who, it seems, was manager likewise,) and call- 
 ing to the musicians to resume their operdtions, begged us 
 to be re-seated, in order to see the first act repeated, 
 which we had lost by arriving too late. We availed our- 
 selves of her politeness and honesty , but could scarcely re- 
 frain from laughing as we did so — and, fortunately, diiring 
 the half hour that succeeded, the weather cleared, and we 
 were thus enabled to get home without the dreaded wetting ; 
 but the Boulevards not being paved, the walking was exceedr 
 ingly muddy, and it was so long ere we reached a stand of 
 carriages, that when we did, we thought it m.6rie prudent to 
 continue our route on foot than to risk sitting in our wet shoes. 
 As you may not know what is meant by the ^'Boidevards^^^ 
 I will tell you. They are wide roads, or streets, edged 
 with spreading umbrageous elms, and formerly bounded the 
 city, but now, from its increase in size, they are ivithin it. 
 Their appellation of "Boulevards'' is derived from "bonier 
 sur le vert," to '-bowl upon the green'^ — being once covered 
 with turf, and the frequent scene of playing at bowls. Here, 
 nightly, the citizens forget the cares and labors of the day, 
 and resign themselves to pleasure and mirth. Rows of 
 chairs, owned and placed there by poor persons, may be 
 hired for two sous a piece. Adieu. 
 
 Leontine, 
 
101 
 
 LETTER TWENTY-FIRST. 
 
 Places of Protestant Worshij:) in Paris — History of Mr. Lewis 
 Way, an Ulnglish Divine, 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 Dear Jane : 
 
 Here is an interesting narrative to amuse you, which I 
 have just heard related. Jn the Cha??ips Elj/sees, there 
 stands a beautiful Protestant chapel, where we attend divine 
 service almost every Sabbath ; if w^e do not go there, we 
 repair to the oratorio, a Protestant church, in the Eue St^ 
 Honore, or to the English Ambassador's, where there is pub- 
 lic w^orship every Sunday, or to another temple consecrated 
 to our form of worship, (the Church of the Visitation,) in 
 the Rue Saint Antoine. Bishop Lusconabe officiates at the 
 oratorio, and Mr. Wilkes, a Presbyterian clergyman, assem- 
 bles his congregation in an upper apartment adjoining the 
 church. The history in question, is that of the Rev. Mr. 
 Lewis Way, who owns the chapel in the Champs Ely sees 
 ^ncl preaches there ; he is extremely eloquent and energetic, 
 and speaks plain truths to his flock w^ithout hesitation, when 
 necessary. It is said that when a youth he had an ardent 
 desire to be educated for the church; but his parents 4)eing 
 extremely poor^ and not having any relatives to assist him, 
 he became a student of law at the temple, and Wiis one 
 morning proceeding to his labors, when he observed his 
 own name inscribed on the door-plate of a handsome dwell- 
 ing. He immediately ascended the steps, and requested to 
 h2 
 
102 
 
 speak with the master of the house ; and on his appearance, 
 after apologizing for the liberty he was taking, told his 
 story, represented his forlorn situation, and begged to be 
 informed if there was any relationship between them. On 
 comparing notes he found there w^as not^ and \vas taking 
 leave; but the gentleman, w^ho was an odd old bachelor, 
 insisted on his prolonging his visits and, in the interim, sent 
 a trusty servant to inquire his character of the lawyer under 
 whom he studied, and w^ho happened to be the one w^hom 
 he (Mr. Way, senior) usually employed. 
 
 The lawyer's answer was highly creditable to his pupil, 
 and from that moment the old gentleman adopted him, en- 
 abled him to take orders, and, dying soon afterwards, be- 
 queathed him a fortune of 300,000 pounds sterling. The 
 sudden accession of such w^ealth affected his brain, and he 
 was crazy for several years. Now^, /think he must have 
 been so, w^hen he introduced himself so strangely to his 
 benefactor ; hut be that as it may, on rega'ining his senses, 
 he resolved to make Paris his future home, and to devote 
 his time to the Protestants in that city. He accordingly 
 came over here, purchased the hotel Marboeuf, his present 
 aboffe, and converted a portion of it into the tasteful little 
 chapel, where he addresses and edifies a numerous congre-r 
 gation on all holy days. 
 
 The seats of the chapel are covered v/ith cerulean velvet, 
 the windows ornamented with paintings^ and there is a good 
 organ, upon which one of his daughters (for he has married 
 
103 
 
 and has several children) always performs. A shady and 
 pleasant garden adds to the beauty and comfort of the place!, 
 And thus ends my story, for the truth of which, ren^ember, 
 I do not vouch. 
 
 Binju^t as it was told to me, 
 Have I detailed it unto thee. 
 
 And with this flourishing rhypae conclude. Yours, 
 
 Leontine, 
 
 LETTER TWENTY-SECOND. 
 
 Excursion to Lagrange — Count de Tracy and Madame Ld 
 Fayette — Theatre of Monsieur Compte — Chinese Baths, 
 
 Paris, — -— . 
 I thank you, beloved sister ! for your affectionate letter 
 of the — instant, and shall not delay answering it, for I am 
 impatient to inform you of our recent agreeable excursion to 
 Lagrange. On Friday we availed ourselves of the kind 
 General's invitation, and, rising very early, commenced our 
 journey to his castle. We partook of coffee, eggs, and 
 bread and butler, at a village some leagues hence, and, 
 having rested the horses, went on so rapidly as to reach 
 Lagrange in time for dinner; met with a cordial reception 
 from all the family, and were introcjuced to several distin- 
 guished guests. Among these, were the venerable Coun^t 
 de Tracy and the celebrated Monsieur Constant. The for- 
 mer is the father of Madame G. Lafayette, and a charming 
 
104 
 
 old gentleman he is. The latter, the intimate friend of Ma- 
 dame de Stael, and the leader of the liberal party in the 
 Chamber of Deputies, I have descriJDedto you in aprevious 
 letter^ Madame George W. Lafayette is the presiding hos- 
 jtess of Lagrange, ai;d has uncommonly affable and affec- 
 tionate manners ; indeed, the whole family (as I have al- 
 ready remarked) are extremely amiable, and so charita- 
 ble, that many poor persons in their neighborhood are sup- 
 ported by their bounty. 
 
 Madame Lafayette, senior, you know, died of a ma- 
 lady contracted in the damp and noxious dungeon of 
 Olmutz, while she shared her husband's captivity. Her 
 memory is deservedly venerated by him, and I am toljd that 
 he cannot speak of her, without shedding tears of sorrow 
 and gratitude, at the recollection of her sufferings and self- 
 sacrifice for his sake. He showed us a miniature of their 
 jailor, which was taken by his eldest daughter, Madame de 
 Maubourg, during their imprisonment, in the following sin- 
 gular manner. She drew it first on her thumb nail with a 
 pin, not being allowed a pencil or paper ; however, having 
 found means to obtain a piece of crayon and a blank leaf 
 from a book, she copied the head sketched on her nail, and, 
 as the resemblance was striking, her father h^s sinpe had it 
 painted in oil colors, by an artist, who has enlarged the de- 
 signj; by portraying the old Cerberus with a huge bunch of 
 keys, and in the act of unlocking the prison door. It is 
 quite an interesting little picture. 
 
105 
 
 I will now describe the farm, for we examined all parts of 
 it. Order and neatness reign throughout the domain, and 
 the General himself sees that nothing is neglected. He has 
 a numerous flock of merino sheep, well guarded by a shep- 
 herd and two faithful dogs. Their sagacity and vigilance 
 are remarkable ; if one of the flock separated itself from 
 the others only a few feet, these dogs would observe it in an 
 instant, and hasten to drive back the wanderer to its place, 
 which they always did with evident tendt-rness. The horses, 
 cows and swine were in a thriving condition, looking con- 
 tented, fat and sleek. The poultry yard contains foreign as 
 well as domestic fowls; they are accommodated according 
 tb their habits, and form an amusing spectacle. The regu- 
 lations of the kitchen, the dairy, the ice-house, stables and 
 pig-styes, are admirable, and you may tell Albert, that I ad- 
 vise him to come over and take a lesson in such useful ar- 
 rangements, "though I will answer for it, you. entertain so 
 exalted an opinion of his knowledge on all subjects, that you 
 deem more 'acquirements or improvements unneccessary, 
 ^^Mais revenons au Chateau." 
 
 It is a stone building, enclosing three sides of a square 
 court. There are five towers, one at each corner, and 
 one in the centre of the left side of the castle, as you enter 
 through a large arch which leads into the square court ; it 
 is surrounded by a thickly spreading ivy, which was planted 
 by our great statesman, Charles James Fox, more than 
 iwenty years ago, while on a visit to Lagrange. You ap- 
 
106 
 
 proach the arch by a bridge, thrown over a raoat^ bounding 
 two sides of the castle, and terminating in a small lake. 
 Here may sometimes be seen floating an American boat, that 
 in 1824 beat an English one, in a race on the water at New 
 York, and was afterwards presented to the good General. He 
 is adored by the Americans, and quite devoted to them and 
 their interests. His drawing room is decorated with the 
 portraits of their Presidents, and in an adjoining room may 
 be seen, in golden frames, their declaration of independence 
 and the farewell address of Washington ; also, the colors of 
 the ^' Brandywine,'' the ship they sent out wdth him when 
 he returned from an excursion to their country four years 
 ago. These colors were presented to him by the officers of 
 that vessel, and the midshipmen gave him, as a testimony of 
 their respect, a handsome silver urn, with an appropriate 
 inscription. The library and a cabinet of curiosities are 
 likewise supplied with American productions. In the first, 
 are beautiful engravings of various parts of the United 
 States, some American w^orks, and the cane of Washing- 
 ton ; and in the second, divers odd articles of Indian man- 
 ufacture. 
 
 On Saturday, we took leave of Lagrange and its in- 
 mates ; their kindness and attention to us, and the pleasure 
 we derived from our visits to them, we can never forget ; 
 they will be associated with our most agreeable remin- 
 iscences of France. Last night we w^ent to the theatre 
 of Monsieur Compte, w^here all the performers are 
 
 fi 
 
107 
 
 children ; the little creatures acted remarkably well and 
 with great spirit, and we were highly diverted. Monsieur 
 Compte is considered the best ventriloquist in Europe. 
 
 Edgar and Sigismund have been taking lessons in swim- 
 ming ; there are several excellent schools here for teaching 
 the art, and one for ladies ; and Marcella, Leonora and my- 
 self had serious thoughts of entering as pupils, but finally con- 
 cluded we had enough of loater-works at the delightful '^Chi- 
 nese Baths," on Wednesdays and Saturdays, our regular 
 bathing days, when W'e usually rise extremely early, so as to 
 accomplish our purpose, and get back in time for breakfast. 
 The ^'Chinese Baths" are so called, because the building 
 containing them is in the Chinese style ; in front is a parterre 
 of flowers, and, beyond this, masses of artificial rocks, witli 
 a couple of Chinese figures among them ; the whole ar- 
 rangement is singular and picturesque. The H 's have 
 
 returned to town for a few weeks, and we are engaged to 
 pass this evening with them. I do not covet going, how- 
 ever, for their parties are said to be very stiff: 
 
 With our usual affectionate greetings to aunt Margaret, 
 
 Albert, and yourself, I Conclude. 
 
 Leontine. 
 
108 
 £etter twenty-third. 
 
 A sociahle eiicning at the Ex-Minislefs of the Marine — Museum of 
 Artillery- -Bay Market — Cor?i Market — St. Germain VAuxcr^ 
 rois, 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 Dear Ja>-e : 
 
 Our stay here is drawing to a close, and, consequently^ 
 during the last ten days, we have been so occujned in shop- 
 ping, visiting and sighi-seeing, that I have found it itnposr 
 sible to write ; but here is a rainy day, and I take advantage 
 of it to resume our correspondence. We called yesterday 
 
 to take leave of Monsieur and Madame de N -, and 
 
 they looked happier, I assure you, in their own residence in 
 the Faubourg du Roule, than they did when inhabiting the 
 sumptuous edifice of the ^^Admiralty," on the place ^'Lonis 
 Qif.inze,'^ I suppose you have learnt from the newspapers 
 that Monsieur de N — — - thought it prudent to resign hi§ 
 officey and has been succeeded by Monsieur . 
 
 We found him and Madame de N— ; surrounded by 
 
 friends, who had accidentally dropped in as well as our- 
 selves, and the evening being sultry, the company were re- 
 galed with delicious sorbets and iced creams. Ecarte was 
 soon introduced among the elder gentry, and several of Mr. 
 de Neuville's young nieces being there, our brothers and 
 two other youthful beaux, the girls and myself, joined them 
 in playing '^Tierce" and Blindman's-buff in the saloon.- 
 We enjoyed ourselves thus till quite a late hour. 
 
 One of the most curious and interesting places that has 
 
109 
 
 recently attracted our attention, is the '' Museum of Artil- 
 lery," in the street of the University. It is the depot of a 
 great variety of antique armor, ordnance and implements of 
 war, and among the first we beheld the coat of mail of 
 many a famous champion, and that of Joan of Arc, which 
 we thought uncommonly large to fit a woman. Every ar- 
 ticle is kept beautifully neat and bright, and a number of 
 the things are labelled, which saves the trouble of a guide 
 to explain their names and use. Another most singular 
 place we have seen is the '^Marche du Vicux LingCy^ or 
 "rag fair." This is an emormous building divided into four 
 halls, containing 800 stalls or petty shops. And oh ! the 
 queer articles that are in these shops ! — taw^dry second hand 
 hats and dresses — old shoes, old gloves, old ribbons, old 
 trunks, old carpets*, bedding, chairs, and other furniture. 
 These castaways are vamped up for sale, and wo betide the 
 unfortunate wight whose path lies through or near the mar- 
 ket ; he is sure to be assailed and deafened with loud im- 
 portunities from every quarter, to ^^come and buy," and may 
 think himself lucky if he be not seized and absolutely forc- 
 ed into some of the stalls, to behold their wonders. We 
 w^ent out of mere curiosity, and were glad to hurry out as 
 quickly as our feet could carry us, the people were so rude 
 and presuming. 
 
 The '^Halle au Ble," or "corn market," well merits ex- 
 amination. It is a large circular edifice of stone, enclosing 
 one immense hall with a vaulted roof of sheet iron ; sup- 
 
110 
 
 ported on an immense framing of cast iron ; from a window 
 inj^the centre of which the light descends. The bags of 
 corn are heaped in enormous masses at regular distances, and 
 through the myriad of narrow passages formed by these 
 you thread your way. 
 
 To-day we visited the venerable church of St. Germain 
 P Auxerrois, the bell of which tolled the signal for the Cath- 
 olics to commence their direful murders on the eve of St. 
 Bartholomew, in 1572. It was once rich in pictures and 
 statues ; at present, it is remarkable only for its antiquity 
 and the curious carving around its portal. Its founder was 
 the cruel and superstitious Childebert, and two statues of 
 stone, near the entrance, are said to represent him and his 
 wdfe. On the fete de Dieu, the royal family walk there in 
 procession from the palace of the Tuileries, to hear mass. 
 They are magnificently arrayed and attended by a concourse 
 of priests and soldiers, and by a band of females clad in 
 white, who strew roses in their path. From St. Germain, 
 we hastened to the palace of the fine arts on the quay 
 Conti. For an account of it, you must wait till my next 
 letter reaches you; this, you perceive, is almost full, so ^ 
 while I have room, I had better insert the name of your at- 
 tached 
 
 Leontine. 
 
HI 
 
 LETTER TWENTY-FOURTH. 
 
 Packers — The Muette de Portici — Tke Whale — Place Louis. 
 Qainze — Manufacture of Chocolate — Iced Creams — Chanqjs de 
 Mars — Racing — Palace of the Fine Arts and Royal Academy 
 or Institute. 
 
 Paris, . 
 
 '* What ! again at your pen Leontine ?" inquires Marcella; 
 ^•assuredly you are a most indefatigable scribe or an exceed- 
 ingly devoted sister V\ ^^ Leave out the or^^'' I answer, '^ for 
 I am hothP You, dearest Jane, can bear witness to the 
 truth of my assertion, and I hope it will ever be my pride 
 to merit the second appellation. Indeed, it would be shame- 
 ful if I did not endeavor to deserve it, as you continually 
 set me the example. This w^ill be my last letter from Paris, 
 for the signals of our departure are resounding through the 
 saloon, from the hammers of the packers there busily en- 
 gaged. Here, for five francs, you may have your fine 
 dresses and hats, &c., &c., safely and neatly arranged for 
 travelling, by men who thus gain their hving ; and it is sur- 
 prising with what adroitness and fitness they adjust each 
 article, depositing more in ona box or trunk than we could 
 in two^ and fixing every thing so securely that it cannot get 
 injured, no matter how violent the motion of the carriage 
 may be. 
 
 On Wednesday, we shall set out for the borders of the 
 Rhine. Papa has determined to proceed to Strasbourg, and 
 thence descend the river as far as Niraueguen, where we 
 
112 
 
 shall abandon the steamhoat for the stage, and commence 
 our tour through Holland. How I shall regret to part with 
 the Danvilles ! Poor Edgar, it will cost him a severe pang 
 to bid farewell to Marcella, though I verily believe she has 
 refused him, judging from certain indescribable, but very ex- 
 pressive symptoms in their recent behaviour towards each 
 other. Alas ! we shall probably never see her again. Mr. 
 Danville has promised to rejoin us at Morven Lodge, about 
 the period of your marriage. Papa, without assigning the 
 reason of his request, has urged him to be with us there by 
 the 10th of April ; but I have been so loquacious as to ex- 
 plain all to Leonora, and we have decided on acting as 
 bride's maids, which you must own is extremely kind. 
 Pray, don't scold me in your next for tattling, and don't tell 
 Albert of my volubility ; you know^, he always insists that 
 the stale and foolish sayincr, '^^a woman cannot keep a se- 
 cret," is correct, and he v/ould be sure to crow over my 
 frailty. This evening we are going to see the opera of the 
 ^^Muettc de Portici,^' in which there is a representation of 
 Mount Vesuvius in a state of eruption, and the imitation is 
 considered excellent and wonderful. Our party will be 
 large, but I suspect not gay, for the reflection, that in two 
 days we shall be far separated, wull doubtless cast a gloom 
 over the mind of each. As for me, I cannot bear to dwell 
 upon the subject in thought or w^ord, so will hasten to an- 
 other. 
 
 Who should drop in upon us yesterday evening, while 
 
113 
 
 we were at tea, but Ernestus Blanforcl, and he rendered 
 himself doubly welcome by delivering your despatches. 
 Thank you for my share of them and for the beautiful em- 
 broidered reticule. Mamma is much pleased with her's. 
 Really, you are cunningly skilled in producing. Love in a 
 Mist J Hearfs Ease, and Bachelor^ s Buttons ; may you 
 be as successful in creating the first and second in the hy- 
 meneal state ; for the third, there will then be no demand. 
 Our father and brothers desire their acknowledgments for 
 the w^atch-guards you wove them, and Sigismund bids me 
 say, that if the chains with which you have encircled Albert 
 are as soft and silken as those just received, he is no longer 
 amazed at his tame submission to thraldom. 
 
 We took a farewell drive through the city this morning, 
 
 and visited the whale now exhibiting on the place ^^Louis 
 
 Quinze/' in a neat edifice erected for its reception ; and 
 
 what do you think of their having converted the poor dead 
 
 monster into a reading room ? It is a fact, that the interior 
 
 of the carcass is decorated and furnished for that purpose, 
 
 and is the resort of the newsmonger, as well as the curious I-^ 
 
 It was on the place ^^Louis Quinze,^' (from the centre of 
 
 which, the view of palaces, avenues, colonades and bridges, 
 
 is superb,) that the royal martyrs, and thousands of other 
 
 victims of the reign of terror, met their fate, at the foot of 
 
 a statue of Liberty, erected during that bloody period on 
 
 the ruins of an equestrian statue of Louis XV. This was 
 
 overthrown by the remorseless revolutionists, although it 
 
 i2 
 
114 
 
 was universally regarded as an exquisite piece of sculpture, 
 (especially the'horse,) and was the chef d'ceuvre of Bouch- 
 ardon. Issuing like Jonah from the whale, but probably 
 with less velocity J we went to the Bazaar to purchase some 
 rolls of sweet chocolate, which we are advised to carry 
 with us, as being agreeable and wholesome to eat early in 
 the morning, when travelling a long distance to breakfast. 
 While the woman who sold it was tying up the package, vre 
 questioned her about the conflagration of the old Bazaar, 
 that happened several years ago, and among other things 
 ghe told us that two Anacondas, confined in a room of the 
 building, perished in the flames, and, during their torments, 
 shrieked like human creatures. 
 
 It is quite amusing to remark the variety of forms into 
 which chocolate is cast here. Tiny boots and shoes, pots 
 and kettles, bugs and nuts, little men and little women, and 
 numerous other objects, are represented by the ingenious 
 manufacturer of that luxury. As for the bugs with their, 
 wire legs, and the divers sorts of nuts, you can distinguish 
 them from real ones only by the touch or taste. While on 
 the subject of eatables, let me mention the peculiar manner 
 in which iced creams are served at balls and parties. Each 
 kind is moulded into the shape of the fruit with which it is 
 flavored, and frequently a peach or apple dexterously tinged 
 with red, to render the semblance of nature more complete. 
 The plates containing them are usually in the form of a 
 golden grape leaf; the stem turned up constitutes a handle, 
 
115 
 
 and golden spoons accord with the burnished leaf. When 
 an entertainment is given, it is only necessary for the mas- 
 ter or mistress to send a mandate for the requisite number of 
 ices, to Tortoni, Hardi, or any other adept in the freezi7ig 
 art. and at the appointed hour they arrive, disposed in the 
 tasteful order just described. 
 
 We have lately witnessed a race on the "Field of Mars," 
 the spot appropriated to such sports and to military parades. 
 It is a vast plain, in front of the military school, and is 
 capable of admitting the evolutions of 10,000 soldiers with- 
 in its boundaries. These consist of rows of trees and a ver- 
 dant bank, or a wide wall of turfed earth, which affords a 
 safe and convenient station for the spectators of the scene 
 below. The race road is immediately beneath the bank, and 
 separated from the area of the plain by stone pillars con- 
 nected w^ith iron chains — beyond these, the carriages and 
 horsemen are ranged. We observed several ladies dashing 
 about on horseback at a fearless rate, and among them the 
 pretty Mrs. W., the Yankee wife of a rich banker. On one 
 side there was a pavillion wherein w^e procured seats, and 
 the royal family occupied another near it, which had been 
 prepared for them. The little duke of Bordeaux and his 
 youthful sister were in extacies w^henever the horses ran by. 
 The chief contention w'as between a courser of Monsieur 
 Casimir Perrier and one belonging to Lord Seymour. The 
 French steed gained the victory, much to the delight of ihc 
 populace. But some Fno-lislimrn surmisp,! that if Pnrdy 
 
116 
 
 had been there, matters would have ended differently. 1 
 asked Mr. Danville who they meant by Purdy, and he in- 
 formed me that he is a countryman of ours, who once dis- 
 tinguished himself in America (at the city of New York, I 
 think he said) by mounting a famous horse, ycleped Eclipse^ 
 and wrestling the palm from Henry, a celebrated racer of 
 the South. At present, I must fulfil my promise of describ- 
 ing to you the "palace of the arts," anciently termed the 
 colleo;e of the four nations, because it was desio;ned bv its 
 founder. Cardinal Mazarin, for the reception of pupils from 
 among the four nations subdued by Louis the great. 
 
 It is a handsome structure, extending for many yards 
 along the borders of the Seine. Its designation has been 
 changed, and it is now used by the "Royal Academy or In- 
 stitute,'' for their private meetings and general assemblies. 
 This corps of Savans was established in the reign of Louis, 
 and is composed of the elite of the philosophers, artists and 
 literary men of the kingdom. They correspond with the 
 literati of all countries, and have done much in the cause of 
 literature and the arts and sciences. They have ranged 
 themselves into four classes ; the first is devoted to the im- 
 provement of natural philosophy, chemistry and mathema- 
 tics, and is denominated the ^ ^Academy of Sciences ;" the 
 second makes the language and literature of France its care, 
 and is called the "French Academy ;" the third applies it- 
 self to history and ancient learning, and bears the title of 
 the "Academy of Inscriptions and Belles Lettres ;" and the 
 
117 
 
 fourth, the ^.^Academy of the Fine Arts," is employed on 
 music, painting, sculpture and architecture. The classes 
 meet separately once a week, and hold each general annual 
 association in the months of March, April, July and Octo- 
 ber ; at which times prizes are awarded by the Academy of 
 the Fine Arts, to such as deserve them ; who are afterwards 
 permitted to repair to Rome and remain there some years to 
 improve themselves in their vocations, the government pay- 
 ing their expenses. The hall in which the general meet- 
 ings are held, was formerly a chapel ; beneath it Cardinal 
 Mazarin lies buried. The members wore a costume of black 
 and green, and the successful candidates are sometimes 
 crowned with wreaths of laurel. The hall, and .several 
 apartments leading to it, are decorated with statues of vari- 
 ous distinguished characters, — as Bossuet, Fenelon, Sully, 
 Pascal, Descartes, Rollin, Moliere, and others, whose names 
 are venerated by the learned and good. The post hour has 
 arrived, so farewell to my ^'bonny Jean''— -we shall soon be 
 still farther from you, but any where and every where I 
 
 shall still be your devoted sister, 
 
 Leontine. 
 
THE DEAD BRIDE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 **THE FOUNTAIN OF TREVI.' 
 
 A TALE FOUNDED ON FACT. 
 
 In the spring of 18 — , two young ladies, attended by 
 their brother, sallied forth from one of the chief hotels in 
 Rome, to view some of its architectural wonders and inhale 
 the balmy air of a glorious morning. 
 
 Day, * ^beautiful day !'' shed a golden lustre upon dome, 
 column and spire, each of which seemed rejoicing beneath 
 the brightening influence, as in gleaming grandeur it tower- 
 ed to the skies. 
 
 The pedestrians proceeded first to the '^Fountain of 
 Trevi," which is considered the most beautiftil and most 
 wholesome in the city. They admired its capacious basin, 
 which is many feet in circumference and several feet deep ; 
 its pile of artificial rocks in the centre, and the colossal 
 figure oif old Neptune in his car of shoUs, drawn by sea- 
 horses and guided by Tritons; its emblematical statues and 
 basso-relievos, one of the latter representing the peasant 
 girl who directed some thirsty soldiers to the source of this 
 fountain, (eight miles distant,) from which circumstance it is 
 termed "Aqua Virgina ;" and another portraying the val- 
 iant Marcus Agrippa, the embellisher of Rome, to whom the 
 ancient city is indebted for the Pantheon, and many of its 
 noblest edifices. 
 
 As they stood upon its brinK'; examining its decorations 
 
ISO 
 
 and listening to its musical ripplings — **What a charming 
 conception for a fountain V^ exclaimed Constantia, the 
 younger sister, whose dark and mirthful eyes, glowing 
 cheeks and dimpled mouth contrasted strongly with the 
 pale and pensive, yet lovely face of Dora, the elder. '^All 
 hail to the son-in-law of Augustus, for having had this wa^ 
 ter conducted to Rome, although it w^as merely for the self^ 
 ish purpose of supplying his baths. And more thanks still 
 to Clement the Twelfth, for the ornamental devices and 
 statues he has lavished upon it, thus rendering it so gooflly 
 a spectacle for our present benefit ! How refreshing just to 
 look upon it and hear its murmurings V^ 
 
 '^ Do you remember/^ said Dora, '^ Madame de Stael^s 
 beautiful description of it in her thrilling novel ^Corinne?' 
 I should like to come and read it here on the spot some clear 
 moonlight night. Suppose we do V^ 
 
 ^'Agreed, thou romantic girl, if Ernest will again be our 
 escort," replied Constantia^ 
 
 Their brother acceded to the proposition ; and they con- 
 tinued their ramble to the Piazza Monte Cavallo, a noble 
 square, pleasantly situated on the Quirinal Hill, and sur- 
 rounded by magnificent buildings. In the midst of these, 
 rises a lofty Egyptian obelisk of red granite, flanked by two 
 celebrated specimens of antique sculpture, attributed to 
 Phidias and Praxiteles, the majestic figures of Castor and 
 Pollux with their struggling chargers. From these superb- 
 ly executed coursers, the square derives its name of ''Monte 
 Cavallo*'' 
 
 After gratifying curiosity and admiration here, they pro- 
 ceeded to the Rospiglio Palace, to see the famous picture of 
 Aurora, or morning personified, by Guido Reni. It is paint- 
 ed in// 'f5.9Co. (an art now lost,) on the ceiling of a basement 
 
 i 
 
131 
 
 room, and wonderful is it for beauty of design^ coloring and 
 expression ! 
 
 Another party of English visitors were present, and quite 
 enthusiastic in their encomiums on it, and among them a 
 young lady so intent upon inspecting the picture, that, gaz- 
 ing upwards and w^alking backwards at the same time, she 
 came suddenly against Constantia, and was near being pros- 
 trated. Recovering her balance, she turned to apologize for 
 her rough intrusion on the pretty foot she had pressed, when 
 the owner of it and herself simultaneously ejaculated in 
 joyful surprise — ^^Why, my dear friend, are you here ?'^ At 
 the same moment, Dora and Ernest appoaching, affectionate 
 greetings w^ere exchanged between them all ; for who should 
 it be but their friend and former schoolmate, Sophia Elfort, 
 standing so unexpectedly among them ! They had parted 
 the year before in London, and at that time she had no idea 
 of following them to Italy ; but, in the meanwhile, two 
 wealthy relatives, Mr. and Mrs. Mervin, having invited her 
 to accompany them in a lour on the continent, she accepted 
 their kindness, and was thus again united, much sooner than 
 either of the three anticipated, to her favorite associates. 
 
 She introduced them to the Mervins, and after spending 
 an hour together in social chat, and promising to meet often, 
 the travellers separated and returned to their respective 
 hotels to breakfast. 
 
 We w^ill now retrograde in our story, in order to render it 
 more intelligible to the reader. 
 
 Mr. Wentworth, a rich merchant of Bristol, a man of 
 sense and refinement, and of high parentage, was travelling 
 for his health, accompanied by his wife, his two daughters, 
 Dora and Constantia, and his only son Ernest, a chief actor 
 in some of the scenes to be described. 
 
122 
 
 The family had passed the ^^inter in Florence ; but, ow- 
 ing to Mr. Wentworth's indisposition, they lived very re- 
 tired, with the exception of Ernest, who, becoming intimate 
 wdth two gay and fashionable young men from England, was 
 often induced to join in their amusements and mingle with 
 the world. After spending many weeks in a round of dis- 
 sipation, he determined on going to Rome with his new 
 friends and boon companions, Herman and Medway, and 
 there aw^aited the arrival of his parents and sisters, who 
 purposed remaining a month longer in Florence. They de- • 
 parted with letters of introduction, that soon enabled them 
 to share in the festivities of Rome as they had done in those 
 of Florence, and they joined in the frivolities and mad frolics 
 of the carnival with great zest. 
 
 At that time, there resided in the Rue de Ripetta, an Ital- 
 ian gentleman, the Signor Albertini. with his only daughter, 
 the lovely LaUra, and his orphan niece, the fair Eudosia, 
 whose father, Mr. Sanford, was an Englishman, and once a 
 resident of Naples, where he married the sister of Alber- 
 tini. Eudosia was about seven years old when her parents 
 removed to London to take possession of an inheritance be- 
 queathed them by a distant relation. In the course of a few 
 years they also died, and she was left, at the age of thirteen, 
 a wealthy heiress and unprotected. Albertini immediately 
 offered her a home, (his motives, we will not scan,) and she 
 gladly exchanged 'Hhe vapors, clouds and storms'^ of old 
 England, for the bland and sunny clime of her native 
 "Italia," where she soon became the devoted and beloved 
 companion of her beautiful cousin, Laura. Being nearly of 
 the same age, they attended the same schools, and pursued 
 their studies congenially together until womanhood, when. 
 
123 
 
 buoyant with spirits and pleasant anticipations, they enter- 
 ed society. 
 
 For poor Laura, these were quickly blighted. The ava- 
 ricious disposition of her father proved as fatal to her bud- 
 ding hopes and affections, as is the breeze from the baneful 
 upas to the flower upon which it may chance to blow* 
 Talented, and very lovely, she attracted numerous admirers, 
 and among them a rich nobleman. Lord V. She disliked 
 him exceedingly, and avoided and repulsed him on every 
 occasion ; but he was as invulnerable to slight and rude- 
 ness, as was Achilles .to the weapons of his foes — -nay, more 
 so, for the Greek champion could be wounded in the heel, 
 but Lord V. was entirely callous ; and perceiving that the 
 sordid Albertini favored his suit, he prosecuted it with an 
 ardor which rendered him still more detestable to the object 
 of his passion. Compelled, at length, by her stern and in- 
 exorable sire, to listen to the addresses of her tormentor, 
 and consent to sacrifice herself at the shrine of mammon, the 
 timid girl became almost broken-hearted. Eudosia deeply 
 sympathised with her, and vainly strove* to soothe and cheer 
 her. Calm and tearless, she moved about, as it w^ere, in a 
 lethargy of grief, and every day the roses faded from her 
 cheek. 
 
 Things were in this sad state, when the Duchess of M. 
 gave a ball, and she being the aunt of Lord V., Albertini 
 insisted that his daughter and niece should attend her gala. 
 He was not to be disobeyed, and they did so, though most 
 reluctantly. 
 
 Dressed in virgin white, and pale as the snowy w^reaths 
 that twined her hair, Laura entered the splendid halls of the 
 Duchess, accompanied by Eudosia and Albertini, who, as 
 he advanced between them, reminded one of a dark and 
 
124 
 
 lowering cloud separating two lovely stars. Having paid 
 their respects to the hostess of the palace, they stationed 
 themselves in a favorable position for viewing the dancers, 
 where we will leave them for the present, and recount what 
 was passing on the opposite side of the ball-room between 
 two young cavaliers, conversing as follows : 
 
 '^ Ernest, did you ever behold a more complete realization, 
 in face and form, of Byron's Zuleika, than that beauteous 
 being novv' before us ? V/hat a divine creature !" 
 
 "She is, indeed !'' replied his companion, involuntarily 
 repeating the lines alluded to, as he gazed upon the uncon- 
 scious girl to whom his attention was called — upon Laura, 
 who, fair and drooping as a lily — fit emblem of her purity 
 and Sweetness — stood leaning on her father's arm. 
 
 " Oh, cease your poetizing, Ernest," cried Herman ; " for 
 to me it nov\^ seems very i^'f'osing, as I am impatient to find 
 out who she is ; and before the revels are over we must form 
 her acquaintance — for she is a goddess at whose shrine I 
 fain would worship : so come along." 
 
 ''•What think you of the blue-eyed sylph on the other side 
 of that scowling old gentleman ?" asked Medway, who had 
 just then approached and heard their remarks. 
 
 " 'Aime les yeiix noir si tu "Wiif^'^'^'^i — 
 Moi, j'aime les yenx bleu.' " 
 
 "Ah! well, aid us in our voyage of discovery, and we 
 will not interfere with your choice," was the reply, and the 
 lively trio mingled with the crowd around them. 
 
 A few hours afterwards, Medway was dancing with 
 Eudosia, and Ernest and Herman holding " sweet converse" 
 with Laura. 
 
 Seated in an alcove, apart from the ^'busy throng," they 
 
125 
 
 listened to her gentle tones, and, alike entranced by her 
 beauty and intelligencej the friends became rivals. Lord V. 
 witnessed, with jealous and angry feelings, their devotion to 
 bis betrothed, and, seeking Albertini, the destiny of poor 
 Laura was soon decided ; for he demanded and obtained the 
 promise of a speedy union. 
 
 At a late hour, Albertini returned home with his daugh- 
 ter and niece, and informed them that in one month from 
 that night the proposed nuptials were to be solemnized, as 
 Lord V. would not consent to delay them any longer. 
 
 In vain did Laura and Eudosia plead for a respite : it was 
 peremptorily denied ; and oppressed with disappointment 
 and sorrow, they retired to their chamber, not to rest, but to 
 mingle their tears and vain regrets. At early dawn, Laura 
 arose fi^om her sleepless couch, and wrote the following note 
 to her father. Pity that it had not softened his adaman- 
 tine heart, and changed his stern resolve. 
 
 " Father ! father ! once more I supplicate for mercy. 
 Oh ! grant it to me, I beseech you ! I am almost frantic at 
 the thought of marrying Lord V., that hateful man ! He 
 is odious to me, and a union with him will be more dreadful 
 than the bitterest death ! Father, will you not save me 
 from it ? Would that he had never crossed my path, which 
 he has so strewn with thorns. Father, again I call upon you 
 to save me from him, to rescue me from a fate that will im- 
 pel me to destruction with a power as irresistible as that 
 which draws the doomed vessel into the maelstrom I'^ 
 
 The appeal was useless — her fate was sealed. 
 
 We will now return to our three heroes, Ernest, Her- 
 man and Med way. 
 
 After the departure of the cousins from the ball, they 
 
 also left it, and repaired to their lodgings, where, before re- 
 j2 
 
126 
 
 tiring; they talked over the events of the evening. Med- 
 way acknowledged hinaself deeply smitten with the charm- 
 ing "les yeux bleu,^^ and Herman and Ernest confessed the 
 passion with which the beautiful Laura had inspired them ; 
 but, at th^same time, pledged themselves by the sacredness 
 of friendship and fellowship, not to impede each other in the 
 pursuit of her favor, but to be strictly guided in their course 
 by the partiality she might evince for either. Striking 
 hands to this Pythian game, they sought their pillows. 
 
 The following afternoon they were gallantly mounted, 
 and mixing with thecrowd of carriages and horsemen which 
 daily assemble at four o'clock to drive and ride in the 
 "Strada del Corso," the gayest and most fashionable street 
 in Rome, and so called from the races which annually take 
 place in it. In these the horses run without riders, and are 
 covered with leather straps furnished wdth small iron points, 
 w^hich prick the poor animals at every motion, and, together 
 with the shouts of the spectators, urged them to full speed. 
 It is a cruel sport. 
 
 Our adventurers had not proceeded far, ere they descried the 
 objects of their search in an open landau, attended, as usual, 
 by the watchful sire and his chosen son-in-law. 
 
 On recognizing Herman and Medway, Laura and Eudosia 
 bowled and blushed, and the shafts of Cupid sank still 
 dii^^per into the hearts he had already pierced. That night, 
 ki the watching hour of twelve, dulcet sounds and melodi- 
 ous voices broke upon the slumbers of the cousins, and from 
 their balcony they listened, and their gentle bosoms respond- 
 ed to the'lender strains that were chaunted beneath it. 
 
 Again and again were these serenades repeated, and 
 afforded poor Laura the only moments of happiness she en- 
 joyed ; for whenever Eudosia and herself w^ent out, though 
 
127 
 
 they always met Herman and Medway, they could seldom 
 converse with either, as Albertini and Lord V. generally 
 escorted them. But love is as shrewd as it is watchful, and, 
 during the carnival, opportunities had occurred, whereby 
 they had eluded the vigilance of their male Duennas^ and 
 with the eastern eloquence of flowers, told tales of ardent 
 attachment, and in stolen interviews exchanged vows of 
 eternal fidelity. 
 
 And w^hat of poor Ernest ? 'Tis tftne we should speak 
 of him and tell how nobly he acted — how (true to his pledge) 
 he withdrew from the fascinations of Laura as soon as he 
 perceived her predilection for Herman. His parents and 
 sisters arriving in Rome, he devoted himself iothem; but 
 his saddened aspect and pallid cheek betrayed a secret sor- 
 row within his breast, despite his efforts to conceal it. It 
 was an unquenched and unrequited flame that preyed upon 
 him, baffling his every struggle to subdue it. Lest he should 
 meet with Laura, he kept out of society — lest he should 
 hear .her spoken of, (he even dreaded the ^'magic of a name,") 
 he avoided his friends, Herman and Medway, and held 
 no intercourse with them for many weeks. During that 
 period, how wretched was the object of his adoration ! 
 
 Preparations were made for her approaching nuptials, or, 
 more properly speaking, her immolation. Rich and rare 
 was the trousseau which the golden coffers of Lord V. pro- 
 vided ; and if silks and velvets, lace and jewels, could create 
 felicity, the highest might have been hers — but alas ! what 
 avail such gewgaws to the stricken heart ! It turns from 
 them in disgust. 
 
 "Young ladies, are you ready for our walk to the 'Foun- 
 tain of Trevi?'" demanded Ernest, one evening, shortly 
 after the events recounted above. ^-'Thc moon is shining 
 
128 
 
 brightly, and the heavens without a cloud — if you have 
 found the book, pray let us go." 
 
 ^^Here it is/^ observed Constantia ; "but Sophia Elfort 
 has not arrived, and we cannot proceed without her. What 
 can thus detain her ?" 
 
 Just then they heard her voice in the corridor, and she en- 
 tered, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Mervin. 
 
 ^'Well, really, mytfriend, we quite rejoice to greet you,'' 
 said Dora. "We began to fear you would not come, as you 
 are generally so punctual to your engagements, and it is 
 jiow long past the hour appointed for assembling." 
 
 "Pardon me, dear girls, for thus trying your patience/' 
 she replied ; '^but w^hen you learn the cause of my fault, you 
 will excuse me, I'm sure. Know, then; that as we came by 
 the '^Chiesa del Jesu,' we observed it was illuminated, and 
 entering to see what was going on, we beheld a most touch- 
 ing, painful, yet beautiful spectacle ! — the lifeless body of a 
 young and lovely girl, clad in bridal attire, and laid on a 
 bier surrounded by a railing to prevent intruders from ap- 
 proaching too near to the sacred remains. Oh ! she was 
 as fair and beauteous as the orange-blossoms that decorated 
 her clay-cold brow ! We learned her melancholy history 
 from a bystander, and I will relate it as we sit by the foun- 
 tain — to do so now", will delay us too long. Come, let us 
 hasten on, for, perhaps, after listening to the sad tale, you 
 will like to repair to the church and gaze upon the dead." 
 
 They proceeded — Ernest with a dark presentiment in 
 his mind, which made him shudder, and dread to hear the 
 promised recital. 
 
 A month had elapsed since he had received tidings of 
 Herman and Medway, or the family in the Rue di Bipotta, 
 
129 
 
 and what might not have happened in that time ! — for ^^who 
 knoweth what even a day may bring forth !" 
 
 The rays of the moon fell softly on the glittering spray 
 of the Fountain of Trevi, as it danced and rippled over the 
 mimic rocks in the centre. Madame de StaeFs pleasing and 
 graphic description of it was read according to agreement, 
 and quite hurriedly too ; for both the reader and listeners 
 were impatient for the narration Sophia had promised; and 
 she declined giving it until Ihe object of their visit was ac- 
 complished. This done, she began, and Ernest, almost 
 breathless with anxiety, placed himself at her side, leaning 
 for support upon one of the stone pillars which stand upon 
 the brink of the reservoir. 
 
 "Our informant/' continued Sophia, "did not know the 
 name of the beautiful corpse ; he had only been told that 
 she was the daughter and sole child of a crusty old Itahan, 
 whose avarice had compelled her to resign a young and ar- 
 dent lover, whose affection she reciprocated, and with whom 
 she had vainly tried to elope, and to marry a dissipated old 
 nobleman who was very rich. Yesterday was to have been 
 the wedding day of the ill-matched pair, and a numerous 
 company w^ere bidden to the espousals. They assembled at 
 the appointed hour, and anxiously awaited the descent of 
 the bride from her chamber, where, at her request, her at- 
 tendants had left her alone a short time previous to that at 
 which the ceremony was to be performed. 
 
 "The guests and attendants waited in vain — the hour 
 struck and past — still she came not forth — they sought her 
 apartment, the door was locked within ; they knocked, they 
 called — no answer was returned — the door was forced open, 
 and horror-stricken, they beheld her in ""all her rich attire 
 
130 
 
 and beauty, stretched upon the nuptial couch, and still and 
 cold in death ! 
 
 ^'To avoid the hateful union to which she was doomed, 
 she had swallowed a subtle poison, and the too late repent- 
 ant father was childless !'^ 
 
 As Sophia concluded;, a groan, instantly succeeded by a 
 heavy plunge into the deep and spacious basin of the foun- 
 tain, caused the three girls to start and scream with alarm. 
 Ernest had fainted and fallen in ; his sisters and Sophia 
 shrieked for succor, but it was late and the street forsaken, 
 and many minutes elapsed ere help arrived. Alas ! when it 
 came it availed not the unhappy youth ! Cold and sense- 
 less, he was drawn from the water and carried home, follow- 
 ed by the terrified and weeping females. Every effort to 
 restore him proved unavailing : life was extinct, and he was 
 buried in the same vault wdth the beautiful and lamented 
 Laura Albertini, whose story and WTetched fate our readers 
 must doubtless have recognized in the sad recital of Sophia 
 Elfort. On his tomb v/as engraved "Ernest ;'' on hers, 
 ^ 'Laura'' — nothing more bespoke the place of their rest — 
 naught told of their virtues or their sorrows, save the re- 
 cords of memory in the hearts of their friends. Separated 
 in life, in death they were united. 
 
 The anguish of Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth cannot be depict- 
 ed — neither that of Herman. For weeks he w^as in a state 
 bordering on frenzy. At length he grew more composed, 
 and consented to return to England with the Wentworths, 
 who, notwithstanding their own griefs, visited him in his 
 affliction as being a ^^stranger in a strange land," and a 
 chosen friend of their lamented son. 
 
 Med way parted from him reluctantly, but remained in 
 Rome to console and wed Eudosia, who was almost distract- 
 
131 
 
 ed at the untimely end of her darling cousin. After some 
 months they were united in wedlock, and with the approval 
 of her uncle J the miserable Albertini, who, agonized and 
 softened by the loss of his lovely daughter, no longer op- 
 posed their wishes, and very soon after their marriage, re- 
 tired to a monastery, where he endeavored, bya life of piety 
 and penance, to obtain that inward peace the world can 
 never give. Let us hope he succeeded. Lord V. wore 
 mourning for his betrothed the usual period dictated by eti- 
 quette, and then resumed his pursuits of pleasure in the fash- 
 ionable coteries of Rome and Florence. 
 
 And now for the moral of my story. Parents, take 
 warning by the fatal and painful incident upon which it is 
 founded, and let not a base regard for ^'filthy lucre," as the 
 Scripture calleth it, induce you to sacrifice the happiness of 
 your sons and daughters at the altar of hymen. Wedlock 
 without love is bad enough ; but to share it with one while 
 the heart throbs with devotion for another, is insupportable 
 misery ; the mere anticipation of which has probably driven 
 many to self-destruction, like the unfortunate heroine of our 
 tale. 
 
 It is finished, save that for the edification of our readers 
 we will add a few lines, to say that when time had alleviat- 
 ed the* grief and despair of Herman, he sought further con- 
 solation in a union with the gentle Dora, and that previous^ 
 to this event, Constantia and Sophia bestowed their hearts 
 and hands upon two worthy nephews of Mr. Mervin. 
 
wo AND WEAL; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE TRANSITIONS OF LIFE. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 "Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow ; 
 Naught may endure, but mutability." 
 
 Mrs. M. W. Shelby. 
 
 Harcourt and Reginald Delacy were twin brothers, and 
 the only children of a brave officer, who was killed at the 
 bombardment of Fort McHenry, near Baltimore, Maryland, 
 during the war of 1812, between the United States and 
 Great Britain. 
 
 That ^misfortunes rarely come singly/' is as true a pro- 
 verb as it is common, and this, their first calamity, was 
 quickly followed by a second equally severe, the loss of their 
 mother, whose constitution had been so enfeebled by long 
 declining health, that she sunk under the affliction occasion- 
 ed by her husband's untimely death, and, a few months after 
 that melancholy event, her sainted spirit took its flight from 
 earth to rejoin him in a happier sphere. 
 
 A stetch of Mrs. Delacy may not be inopportune. She 
 \vdLS the daughter of an Irish peer, beautiful, and an heiress, 
 and, as might be expected, received numerous offers of mar- 
 riage,' but rejected all for the sake of him who had gained 
 her young affections before she entered society — her cousin 
 Oswald — the gallant Major whom she wedded. 
 
 Her disposition was extremely gay, perhaps too volatile; 
 
134 
 
 but when maternal feelings were developed, they triumphed 
 over every other propensity, and she readily abandoned the 
 haunts of pleasure and devoted herself to her children, and 
 a husband whom she idolized. He being a sensible and re- 
 ligious man, the force of his example caused her to render 
 a lovely character still more lovely, by the additional graces 
 of piety and its attendant virtues, humility and gentleness. 
 Although in her fortieth year, and a prey to blighting sick- 
 ness, many personal attractions still remained ; — a set of 
 delicately chiselled features, a fair skin, and large, lustrous 
 hazel eyes, to which consumption, with that mysterious 
 effect peculiar to z^, communicated unusual brilliancy, while 
 the softness of her voice, the elegance of her manners, (for 
 she had been bred in the highest circles,) and the conviction, 
 which her fragile appearance instantly produced, that her 
 life was fast waning away, created interest and sympathy in 
 the minds of all v/ho knew her. 
 
 A touching and a holy scene did the chamber of that dy- 
 ing mother present, in the agonizing moment of separation 
 from the loved ones of earth ! 
 
 It was a gloomy November evening, and the wind in fit- 
 ful gusts shook the closed blinds of the invalid^s apartment, 
 but comfort and quiet reigned within. A carpet and cur- 
 tains of rich crim.son, a brisk fire and an astral lamp diffus- 
 ed a cheerful glow around the room, and the atmosphere 
 savoured of an aromatic perfume, from a pastil burning in 
 a miniature castle of gilded porcelain. Near a table, cover- 
 ed with books and implements for drawing, and a tray of 
 oranges and candied fruits, reclined Mrs. Delacy in an easy 
 chair, while Reginald read aloud one of Mrs. Sherwood's 
 excellent volumes, and Harcourt inspected a port folio of 
 engravings. Suddenly, a slight faintness assailed her. and- 
 
135 
 
 she requested them to extinguish the pastil and open the 
 door to admit air. They did so, but she grew worse, and 
 they summoned her nurse, who, alarmed at the death-like hue 
 and expression of her face, immediately sent for a physician, 
 and dispatched a messenger for Mr. Fitzgerald, an intimate 
 friend of the family, who resided a few miles off, and had 
 acted as their protector from the period of the Major's 
 death. 
 
 They cam.e, and Mrs. Delacy was soon aware of her ap- 
 proaching dissolution ; she was undismayed, for she knew 
 that the beneficent Creator she had served in prosperity would 
 not forsake her in the hour of trouble, and on the thresh- 
 old of eternity she was calm and collected. Raising her 
 beautiful eyes and hands to heaven, for some minutes she 
 appeared absorbed in fervent supplication; she then embraced 
 and solemnly blessed her weeping sons, as they knelt by her 
 side, and committed them to the guardianship of Mr, Fitz- 
 gerald, and the smile of an angel beamed o'er her counte- 
 nance as she thanked him, the doctor, and nurse, for their 
 kindness, and left affectionate messages for absent friends. 
 
 Ere morning, the vigils of love and duty were no longer 
 necessary ; the sufferer was at rest, and the convulsive sobs 
 of the bereaved brothers, the stealthy tread and low whis- 
 pers of sympathising assistants, and the moaning of the 
 autumn wind, which seemed chanting a requiem for the 
 dead, were the only sounds that fell upon the ear, through- 
 out the mansion of the departed. 
 
 * 'Until the grave shut from our sight it's 
 Victims, there is hope." 
 
 And, although their mother's increasing palor and debili- 
 ty ought to have prepared them for the ^^coming wo," Har- 
 court and Reginald clung to the fond anticipation of her re- 
 
136 
 
 oovery, and their bereavement was a shock that overwhelm- 
 ed them with despair. 
 
 Mr. Fitzgerald was faithful to his trust, and, when the 
 last sad rites of sepulture had been performed over the 
 remains of Mrs. Delacy, he removed his wards, then fifteen 
 years of age, to Cherwell Cottage, his own rustic, but taste- 
 ful residence, in the vicinity of Oxford. 
 
 Here Mrs. Fitzgerald and her two little daughters greet- 
 ed them with cordiality, and every thing was done to sooth 
 and content them. Grief has but temporary power over 
 the young ; it may cause them to droop like flowers for 
 awhile, but like flowers will they revive, if bedewed with 
 the waters of consolation and kindness, and thus treated, 
 Harcourt and Reginald by degrees resumed their cheerful- 
 ness, and shared in the sports of their bly thesome associates, 
 Amanda and Rosa : these little lassies wTre several years 
 younger than themselves, and as bright and blooming as the 
 roses of Damascus. The income arising from the Delacy 
 property was amply sufficient for the support and education 
 of our young heroes, and, after a sojourn of considerable 
 length at the cottage, they were placed at school, at Eton, 
 in Buckinghamshire, that famous establishment founded by 
 Henry the Sixth, where they continued several years ; in 
 which interim, Harcourt, w^ho was as wild and bold as 
 D'Israelli's ^'Vivian Grey,'' headed a row for amusement 
 whenever he had a chance, and was careful not to injure 
 himself by too close an application to Greek and Latin, or 
 the Classics ; Reginald, on the contrary, became their de- 
 votee. In truth, the patriarchal twins of yore, Jacob and 
 Esau, were not more widely different in appearance, tastes 
 and dispositions, than were these, our pen portrays ; and 
 when qualified for their terras at College, the intellectual 
 
137 
 
 and study-loving Reginald was fain to go, but the enter- 
 prising Harcourt insisted upon seeking his fortune in the 
 West Indies, Mr^ Fitzgerald remonstrated in vain against 
 the proposal; his objections were over-ruled, and he yielded 
 a reluctant consent. 
 
 Harcourt sailed for Cuba, and never trod his native soil 
 again ! He vested his property in a successful speculation : 
 this tempted him to try another, then a third, a fourth ; 
 each proved fortunate, and in less than five years, he was 
 the proprietor of a large and flourishing plantation, well 
 stocked with negroes and overseers to cultivate it. 
 
 Yet, in the midst of this wondrous prosperity and aug- 
 menting wealth, he felt as did Damocles, when feasting 
 with the sword suspended over his head ; the slow but sure 
 destroyer, withering consumption, which he inherited from 
 his mother, attacked him even in Cuba's southern clime, 
 and, notwithstanding the utmost prudence and care, for life 
 to him was sweet, and he was loth to die, he became its 
 victim ere he attained his twenty-fifth anniversary. He be- 
 queathed his estate to Reginald, whose career had been far 
 happier. Though Fortune had showered no golden favours 
 o'er hini^ Love had lavished on him his rosiest smiles. 
 Amanda Fit;jgerald, now a beautiful woman of nineteen, 
 had plighted to him her faith, and their nuptials were to be 
 celebrated as soon as he commenced the practice of his pro- 
 fession, the law\ 
 
 The intelligence of poor Harcourt's decease afflicted 
 him deeply, though accompanied by the information of 
 his rich bequest. Interest required that he should has- 
 ten to take possession of it, and he prepared to do so — 
 to leave, for six tedious months, hi:^ bstrothed ! Had the 
 inheritance consisted of Golconda's diamond mines, he would 
 
138 
 
 have thought them well paid for, by the performance of 
 such a pilgrimage. But the dread of evil, like the antici- 
 pation of enjoyment, generally exceeds its realization. 
 
 The evening appointed for his departure arrived, and he 
 sauntered with Amanda in tender converse on the banks of 
 the Thames at Oxford, w^here he had graduated, with dis- 
 tinction, the preceding year. A full-orbed moon poured 
 down her silvery rays upon the turrets and buildings of the 
 University, that venerable and illustrious seat of learning, 
 and varied with light and shadow the thickly foliaged. trees 
 which reared themselves around. The calmness of the 
 night diffused its influence over the minds of the lovers, 
 and, for awhile, they ceased to speak; Delacyat length re:» 
 ^umed— ^''my sweet friend," said he, '^'think of me when 
 gone, as I shall think of you^ frequently, fondly, fervently ! 
 fray for my welfare, as I shall pray foryoz^r'^,and Heaven 
 will surely bless me with a prosperous voyage and a speedy 
 return, to claim this precious hand, and make it mine for- 
 ever !" Amanda responded to his affectionate appeal, and 
 promised all he desired. 
 
 It was late ere they rejoined the inmates of Cherw^ell 
 Cottage; and not till long after the College bells had chim^ 
 ed twelve, (which seemed to them a parting knell,) did they 
 separate. The family had retired at an earlier hour, and 
 left them together. 
 
 As he bade farewell, Reginald drew from his vest a chain 
 of gold and clasped it round Amanda^s neck — '^Dearest, this 
 sacred relic, the gift of my angelic mother ! I leave with 
 thee ; its purity and strength render it a fit emblem of our 
 attachment ; so w^ear it for my sake, and now I claim the 
 bridal lock you promised to have ready for me." The boon 
 was given, and he tore himself away. 
 
139 
 
 Amanda accompanied him to the door^ and thence gazed 
 upon his receding figure as he traversed the lawn, till, in the 
 depths of the avenue beyond, it was hidden from her view. 
 With an aching heart she sought her chamber, and there 
 yielded to the fulness of its sorrow. ^^Oh ! that I could 
 have been his bride and shared the perils of this voyage !" 
 she exclaimed ; ^^the wide, Vv^ide seas will soon roll between 
 us, and I have sad forebodings we shall never meet again.'' 
 Pressing the chain to her lips, she knelt and prayed for the 
 beloved donor ; then threw herself on the couch beside her 
 sleeping sister; but day dawned ere slumber closed her eye-lids. 
 
 Her perturbed feelings communicated themselves to 
 her dreams, and in them she beheld Reginald struggling 
 amid the ocean's briny waves, and vainly trying to reach 
 an island, near which the vessel was wrecked — at length, 
 with extended hands, he grasped the shore, when a huge 
 billow enfolded him and he disappeared. She uttered a 
 piteous cry and awoke ; the sun was shining through the 
 lattice, and an April shower falling rapidly in large drops, 
 whose loud pattering had probably contributed to the illu- 
 sion of her stormy dream. Rosa was dressed and the matin 
 bell had rung ; so, springing from her bed, with her sister's 
 aid, she was soon ready to descend to the saloon, where 
 the family were at prayers, and as she joined in devotion, 
 she felt her heart relieved of despondency, and full with 
 faith that her lover would be protected and restored to her. 
 Happy those who thus can find solace in communion 
 with a merciful Providence I Amanda now reaped the 
 blessings of a religious education ; her parents were strict 
 members of the Protestant Episcopal church, and had 
 brought up their children in accordance with its holiest pre- 
 cepts — had taught them to love, honor, and 
 
140 
 
 At present, trace we Delacy in his peregrinations. Af- 
 ter quitting Cherwell Cottage, he walked on without ven- 
 turing a glance upon temptation in the form of the fair 
 being he had left standing in the door-way. Guided by the 
 iight of the still presiding moon, he pursued the path to 
 Magdalen bridge, so remarkable for its position and the 
 beauty of its architecture. Spanning both branches of the 
 Cherwellj a considerable portion of it lies over the ground 
 which divides the river. Here he paused to cast a " linger- 
 ing look'^ upon the exquisite landscape, and especially upon 
 the poplar and leechen trees which towered in perspective, 
 and sheltered the abode of the beloved one from whom he 
 had just separated— perhaps for ever ! The very idea was 
 insupportable, and he hurried away to his lodgings, to try 
 and banish it in the forgetfulness of sleep ; but his repose, 
 like Amanda's, was disturbed and unrefreshing. and when 
 at day-break he entered the stage-coach for London, his 
 feelings were as sombre as the sky iabove him, then dark- 
 ened by masses of clouds which ultimately descended in the 
 plentiful shower already mentioned. Soon, however, the 
 sun shone out and a rain-bow arched the heavens ; it seem- 
 ed an omen of good, and with the cheerful villages, verdant 
 hedges and parks^ and an exhilirating breeze, revived his 
 spirits and his hopes. 
 
 Those who have traveled in '^ merry old England,'' wel| 
 know the ease and velocity with which its smooth and level 
 roads are glided over by vehicles, public or private ; the 
 comfort and neatness of the inns — the smiling physiogno-^ 
 mies and obligingness of the land-lords, land-ladies, waiters, 
 and waiting-maids, particularly when the style and appear- 
 ance of the traveler betokened liberal custom and sure pay- 
 ment. Reginald experienced all these, and in due time was 
 
141 
 
 set down at Wright's hotel, near the strand. The follow- 
 ing day he made purchases and preparations necessary for 
 his voyage, and wrote a forewell letter to Amanda — the 
 second found him on board of a noble packet ship, with 
 full-spread canvass, moving like a stately swan across the 
 blue w^aters of the British channel. 
 
 Among the passengers v/ere a gentleman and lady from 
 New York, Colonel and Mrs. Danvers, who. with their 
 three dauo^hters, had been makino; a tour throuo-h Eno;land 
 and Wales, and spending a winter in London. The trio 
 were lovely looking girls, and Delacy perceiving a strong 
 resemblance between Adelaide, the eldest, and Amanda, 
 often sought her society and paid her marked attention — 
 reading, or playing chess and backgammon, or promenad- 
 ing, when the sea was smooth ; they were constantly to- 
 gether. It was a dangerous intimacy for susceptible and 
 sympathetic souls ! 
 
 For many days the voyagers were favoured with propi- 
 tious winds and sunny skies ; but when within a week's sail 
 of the American coast, the aspect of the heavens suddenly 
 changed, and darkness seemed brooding o^er the vessel, as it 
 rolled heavily from side to side on mountainous waves. Anon, 
 flashes of lurid lightning gleamed upon the deep, accom- 
 panied by peals of hoarsest thunder, and white-crested bil- 
 lows dashed in furious tumult over the deck of the strug- 
 gling ship, washing off all things that had not been securely 
 corded to its masts or bulwarks. The straining and creak- 
 ing of the timbers, the rattling of the ropes, the cries of 
 the sailors as they dragged down the torn and soaking can- 
 vass, in obedience to their captain's orders, issued with a 
 itentorian voice throuii^h a speaking trumpet, rendered the 
 icene terriffic ! Those who have not witnessed a storm at 
 
142 
 
 sea, cannot conceive its sublime horror^ and the awful fear 
 it excites in the breasts of the timid and inexperienced ! 
 Then the dizziness — the qualmishness — the revolting sick- 
 ness ! Ob, 'tis a time of trial I a rigorous test of every 
 mental and bodily nerve I 
 
 The female passengers of the "• Trident" were frantic 
 \vith terror. Mrs. Uanvers and her younger daughters 
 clung to their father for support and protection, but Ade- 
 laide flew to Delacy. '' If doomed to be lost, let us perish 
 together," she exclaimed, and threw herself into his arms, 
 where she remained motionless, almost breathless^ till the 
 rage and violence of the elements abated, when, recovering 
 her presence of mlnd^ and abashed at this involuntary ex- 
 hibition of a passion she had hitherto concealed, she broke 
 from him and hastily retreated to her state-room. 
 
 Then and thus it was that Delacy discovered his civilities 
 and kindness had been misinterpreted, and had won the 
 heart of his artless companion. The conviction filled him 
 with pain ; generous, honorable, and benevolent, he would 
 not allow even vanity to be gratified by so great, so fruit- 
 less a sacrifice, on the part of another, complimentary as 
 it was. What course to pursue, he hesitated — to change 
 in his demeanor and treat with reserve and coldness an in- 
 nocent creature, who evidently adored him, seemed cruel ; 
 nay, impossible ! and yet to persevere in his attentions 
 would be cherishing a hopeless, and perhaps, a fatal attach- 
 ment. He thought not of danger to himself — Alas I for 
 Amanda ! Alas ! for woman's love and man's fidelity ! 
 
 After a vast deal of merlitation, Reginald determined, as 
 young people generally do in cases of difficulty, to be 
 guided by circumstances, (in other words, their own im- 
 pulses.) and with that perilous resolve, instead of disclos- 
 
143 
 
 ing his engagement and restraining his inclinations^ he con- 
 tinued his usual intercourse with the bewitching girl, whose 
 blushes and averted looks, when next they met, plainly be- 
 trayed her recollection of the inadvertent confession she had 
 made during her alarm. Reginald w^as equally confused 
 and tremulous with emotion, and his agitation was not lost 
 upon Adelaide — again was he misunderstood. 
 
 They reached New-York in safety, and more than a 
 month elapsed ere Reginald found a vessel bound for 
 Havana, his destined port, beyond which lay the planta- 
 tion bequeathed him by his brother. It was a month re- 
 plete with incidents, which kindled hopes in one fond breast 
 that never were to be realized. 
 
 Delacy became domesticated at Col. Dan vers', and,' 
 strange to say^, was unconscious of the spell that drew him 
 there, till a fervent letter from Amanda awakened his sleep- 
 ing conscience and made him aware that the fascinating: 
 American had engrossed, too completely, his time and 
 thoughts, and that the hours spent with her in that luxuri-' 
 o;us parlor, in a fashionable square, or strolling through 
 Broadway, or accompanying her in parties of pleasure on 
 the water, to Staten Island^ Flushing, and other places of 
 amusement, had caused him to neglect the sweet friend who 
 so lamented his absence. Only once had he written to her 
 since he landed. 
 
 Repentant of his delinquency, he kissed as he refolded 
 the letter, and hastened to answer it ; and struck with his 
 injustice towards Adelaide, and the danger and impropriety 
 of his own position, he determined to mention his engage- 
 ment, and forego the enjoyment of her society during the 
 remainder of his sojourn in the city. He fulfilled his pur- 
 pose the next evening, and (he alternate Hush and paleness 
 
144 
 
 of her cheek alone betrayed the pangs his communication 
 occasioned the unhappy girl ; for wounded pride and dignity 
 yielded strength and support through the hard trial, and 
 not a reproachj or even a remark, escaped her lips. She 
 quickly changed the conversation to an indifferent topic, 
 and they parted tranquilly ; yet her heart was almost break- 
 ing, and his was truly grieved. 
 
 He now saw, too late, how imprudent, how irrationalj 
 his course had been, and the pain of retrospection was 
 only alleviated by the consideration that he had at last 
 done his duty, and by the hope that time and absence would 
 heal the wounds his presence had inflicted. 
 
 Fallacious reasoner ! little he knew of the depth and 
 clurabiHty of woman's tenderness ; the only sure conquerors 
 6f which, are harshness and neglect—'tis these which de- 
 stroy the romance of attachment, and gradually weakefn 
 and undermine the citadel of strong affection. Time and 
 absence are frail adversaries, when busy memories act as 
 sentinels to oppose them. 
 
 At the end of a melancholy w^eek, he called to bid the 
 Danvers family a final adieu, and was not surprised at 
 their treating him coldly ; nor could he blame them, for he 
 felt that his conduct appeared cruel and ungrateful. Ade- 
 laide he did not see — they told him she had gone to visit a 
 relation in Brooklyn 
 
 Reginald embarked for Havana — he was an enthusiastic 
 admirer of Nature, and but for the gloomy state of his 
 mind, w^ould have luxuriated in the magnificent scene 
 around him, as the vessel scudded before a brisk wind, 
 through the harbor of New-York, on the morning of his 
 departure. He remembered too well, however, with whom 
 he had oft descanted upon the beauties of that prospect, 
 
145 
 
 even at that very hour ; when, as then, a brilUant sun-rise 
 gilded the forests of masts which arose from the w^harve.^ 
 of the city, and mellowed the green of the hills and shores 
 encircling its bay. As he gazed upon the villas on some of 
 the islands, with their teeming orchards and gardens, he 
 remembered too well with lohom he had visited their shades 
 and culled their fruits and flow^ers — and as they entered the 
 " Narrows/' the splendid sea-view occasioned such painful 
 reminiscences as forced him, absolutely soid-sick^ to de- 
 scend to his cabin. 
 
 It was the fifth day, after leaving New- York, that he 
 was suddenly aroused from a sound nap, at early dawn, by a 
 a terrible noise and commotion on deck, mingled with the 
 clashing of swords and discharge of pistols in quick suc- 
 cession ; he leaped from his berth, and hastily dressing, 
 rushed up the gang-way — the next instant he was struck 
 down senseless by a heavy blow from the blunderbuss of 
 one of a pirate band, who had attacked and captured the 
 ill-fated schooner, in which he was a passenger. 
 
 How lono- he remained in this situation he knew not; but 
 when he revived, and feebly raising himself, looked about, 
 an appalling sight presented itself — the vessel's deck w^as 
 clotted w^ith blood and strewed with corpses ! She was en- 
 tirely dismantled, and floated without sail or rudder at 
 the mercy of the waves and winds. The pirates had car- 
 ried off every article that was valuable, and not a trace of 
 them remained, save the dreadful carnage and devastation 
 they had made ! Reginald reclosed his eyes in horror, but 
 not dispair — he inwardly prayed to heaven for protection 
 and relief, and again sunk into unconsciousness. His peti- 
 tion w^as not in vain— towards evening the gory hulk, with 
 
146 
 
 its ghastly burdens, was espied by the Montezuma, a Spanish 
 merchantman, and was immediately pursued and boarded. 
 
 On perceiving that Reginald still breathed, the humane 
 captain had him gently removed to his ship, and used every 
 effort to restore him. The bodies of the slaughtered crew 
 were consigned to the deep, wdth every mark of respect 
 customary on such solemn occasions — rolled up in ham- 
 mocks, containing w^eights to make them sink, they were 
 laid in a row, prayers read over them, a gun fired from the 
 bows of the Montezuma, and then, one after another, the 
 dead were launched into the ocean. 
 
 For several days Reginald was unable to rise; he had a 
 severe cat and contusion on his head, and the loss of blood 
 and appetite rendered him weak and pale. With sorrow, 
 too, he discovered that the braid of Amanda's hair, w^hich 
 he W'Ore round his neck, w^as gone ; it was attached to his 
 watch, of which he had been robbed during his swoon. 
 
 Captain Laplata, from Cadiz, was bound for Havana, 
 so that our traveller v/as neither turned from his course nor 
 delayed by his adventure; in one respect it was favorable 
 to his interest ; it proved the means of an acquaintance and 
 intimacy w^ith his deliverer, which led, as wdll be shewn 
 hereafter, to important results. 
 
 The worthy Captain once resided in Havana, and was 
 pleased to show him the town and give him much useful in- 
 formation ; he also introduced him to several agreeable fami- 
 lies, and Reginald was astonisbed at the degree of luxury 
 and fashion w^hich prevailed amonoj the high classes, and at 
 the magnificence of the churches, and that of many private 
 mansions, where he was entertained in quite a princely style. 
 But being impatient to wind up his business and return to 
 Europe, he soon Lircd a " quilf ine,^^ a light cai'riage pecu- 
 
147 
 
 liar to the country, and proceeded to his plantation, where, 
 in the midst of overseers and a numerous horde of slaves, 
 we shall leave him for the present, and hold intercourse 
 with the other characters of our story. 
 
 About four months after Reginald's departure froni Eng- 
 land, Rosa Fitzgerald, who had matured into as graceful 
 and lovely a woman as her sister, received and accepted the 
 addresses of a young gentleman of fortune and genteel 
 standing, whose father was a Spaniard. Mr. Deltavega 
 married in early life a lady of Liverpool, and became a re- 
 sident there. He was the head of an extensive mercantile 
 establishment, and had amassed considerable Wealth. Hav- 
 ihg fitted his only son, Francesco, to succeed him, he deter- 
 mined to retire from business., and to begin his future holi- 
 day by a visit to Cadiz, his native city. Thither, after the 
 union of Rosa and Francesco, Mrs. Deltavega and the new 
 married couple were to accompany him. and the latter to 
 spend the remainder of the summer in travel before finally 
 settling in Liverpool, to enjoy the sweets of connubial feli- 
 city and domestic life. 
 
 Amanda had heard bat twice from Reginald. IJis last 
 letter mentioned that he intended to leave New- York im- 
 mediately for Cuba, and should write, w^ithout delay, after 
 reaching it ; but he had not done so, and she knew not even 
 where to address him — consequently, all communication be- 
 tween them had ceased, and she was so disturbed and de- 
 pressed, and her health so evidently impairing from anxiety 
 of mind, that her parents insisted on her joining the party to 
 Spain, promising to forward, without delay, all packages 
 that might arrive for her, while she w^ as absent. She yield- 
 ed to their wishes, and, after the ordinary routine of calms 
 
148 
 
 and storms, the voyage was accomplished in due time and 
 safety. 
 
 They found the city of Cadiz in great commotion — a 
 gang of pirates had been captured and brought into port, 
 and a crowd of soldiers and citizens were conducting them 
 to prison. 
 
 The Delta regas were soon established in comfortable 
 quarters, and warmly greeted by relatives and friends. 
 Time rolled tranquilly on w'ith all save Amanda — tidings 
 from home brought none of her truant lover, and she grew 
 more and more restless and unhappy. She thought he must 
 be dead, or ill ; she could not, looiddnoi doubt his truth. 
 
 In fine weather, Rosa and herself usually walked out of 
 an afternoon : and though not Roman Catholics, they fre- 
 quently went to the Cathedral at the hour of vespers, to 
 listen to the strains of sacred music which then pealed 
 through its aisles. 
 
 One evening, while thus employed— '-sister.'' whispered 
 Amanda, 'Svhat tender memories do those sweet and solemn 
 notes revive ! tender and painful too — Oh! let us away! 
 they oppress me^ and I feel as if some dire calamity was hang- 
 ing over me. 'Tis folly, I acknowledge, to yield thus to 
 superstition, yet I cannot resist its influence.'' 
 
 And here we would ask, how is it that, between the spirit 
 and the future a mysterious and strange communion does 
 sorfietimes exist, which sways the strongest minds and sad- 
 dens them with apprehensions of coming ill ? It is one of 
 the secrets of nature that cannot be explained. 
 
 The sisters quitted the church, and, after a short stroll, 
 returned home. In the parlour, they found father Anselmo, 
 a relation of Mr. Deltavega, sitting with the family, and 
 
149 
 
 giving them an account of the execution of the pirates, 
 which had taken place that morning. 
 
 The good old man had been summoned to shrive one of 
 them, and had received from him, as an offering to the vir- 
 gin, a rich gold watch attached to a braid of auburn hair, 
 and bearing the initials R. D. 
 
 The penitent confessed that he had rifled it from the per- 
 son of a young gentleman who was killed on board of an 
 American vessel, which he and his accomplices had attack- 
 ed and destroyed nine weeks previous to their own capture. 
 
 As he finished speaking, father Anselmo drew forth the 
 watch from the folds of his gown, and, no sooner did 
 Amanda behold it, than she recognized it as Reginald's, and 
 the hair chain as the tress she had bestowed on him at 
 parting. "Now^ by that token of death^ are my mournful 
 forebodings realized !" cried she, and fainted away ; a brain 
 fever ensued, and for a lono; while her life was in dangler. 
 
 Poor Rosa hung over her pillow night and day, and lis- 
 tened, with tearful eyes, to her delerious lamentations. She 
 insisted upon substituting her own watch as a votive gift, in 
 lieu of her lover's, and kept that^ with the chain he had pre- 
 sented her, in her bosom, and often covered each with kisses 
 and tears. 
 
 It was a melancholy period ; but close attention and care- 
 ful nursing at length prevailed, and the sufferer began to re- 
 gain consciousness and health. 
 
 Oh I the fallacy of human hopes and earthly happiness ! 
 Scarcely six months had elapsed since Amanda's heart beat 
 high with both, and all seemed bright and fair— now, de- 
 jected and careworn, to her the world appeared shrouded in 
 darkness ; and now were hrr\^, though yet so young, 
 
150 
 
 thoughts that banished sleep, affections withered in the bud, 
 and sorrowful remembrances ! 
 
 Change of air and scene was prescribed by her physician, 
 and she accompanied Rosa and her husband in a tour through 
 the South of Spain. 
 
 Our scene must now change also — 'tis done — the curtain 
 again rises, and lo ! the interior of a hovel, in an obscure street 
 of New-York, and on a coarse, but clean bed, a w^oman lying 
 apparently in the last stage of consumption. Her sunken 
 and heavy eyes brighten, and o'er her palhd cheek a slight 
 flush diffuses itself, as she listens to a youthful female who 
 is sitting beside her, smoothing her path to death with words 
 from Holy Writ ; those precious promises therein contained, 
 of mercy and salvation to all who believe and repent^ that, 
 'though their sins be as scarlet, they shall be made white as 
 snow." 
 
 The gentle girl la)^s dow^n the book, to administer nour- 
 ishment to her dying charge, and as she turns round, the 
 lovely countenance of Adelaide Danvers is revealed to us. 
 Yes, it \s> she who thus performs the duties of charity, and 
 seeks to assuage her own griefs by alleviating those of her 
 fc'llow creatures, and to exchange her earthly idol for a 
 Heavenly one ! A blessed balsam for a wounded heart ! 
 and verily she found it so : for, although she could never 
 entirely subdue her hopeless passion, and, therefore, never 
 married, yet was her life, in after years, serene and almost 
 happy, for it was devoted to piety and beneficence. 
 
 Again must our curtain fall — again it rises and displays a 
 more familiar scene ; the road to Cherwell cottage, and 
 Reginald moving as rapidly over it as post horses can con- 
 vey him. 
 
 He has arrangred his West Indian affairs, re-crossed the 
 
151 
 
 Atlantic, and is hurrying to his affianced bride. The chaise 
 stops at the door — he alights and is about to enter the house, 
 when an exclamation of rapture is heard within, and the 
 next moment his arras encircle his sweet Amanda, who has 
 flown to meet him. The bloom of health is once more on 
 her cheek, and 'Hhe smile of contentment and love" in her 
 soft blue eye. 
 
 Perhaps our readers will not object to be informed of the 
 occurrences which brought to pass this pleasing termination 
 of what has hitherto been a gloomy tale. 
 
 Shortly after the excursion through Spain, which proved 
 less beneficial to the invalid than was anticipated, our old 
 acquaintance. Captain Laplata. returned to Cadiz, and was 
 invited to dine with Mr. Deltavega. In boyhood they were 
 friends, but, since then, had not met before. 
 
 When the ladies retired from the dinner table, they re- 
 mained discoursing over their wine, and the Captain remark- 
 ed upon the beauty and extreme dejection of Amanda, 
 whereupon Mr. Deltavega related her touching history. 
 
 When he concluded, the benevolent seaman replied, ^^How 
 fortunate, my dear sir, that you have communicated to me 
 these facts ! for I can meet them with others which will 
 doubtless act like the elixir of life upon the withering heart 
 of Miss Fitzgerald." 
 
 He then detailed the circumstance of his encounter with 
 the plundered vessel, his discovery and rescue of Reginald, 
 and their subsequent association : and read aloud a letter 
 which he had just received from him, stating that since they 
 parted, he had suffered from a dangerous fever, but was 
 convalescent, and, having satisfactorily C9mpleted his busi- 
 ness, was on the point of embarking for England, where he 
 
152 
 
 feared some misfortune awaited him, as he had had no reply 
 to any of his letters since leaving New-York. 
 
 The delight which this intelligence created, may well be 
 imagined. How to impart it to Amanda in her present ner- 
 vous state was a difficulty. 
 
 Some writers maintain that sudden joy is harder to bear 
 than sudden w^o ; and history avers that the messenger who 
 brought to Athens the news of the victory at Marathon, died 
 of extacy the instant after he had told the ^^glad tidings;'^ ne- 
 vertheless, \ve aredoubtfijl of the theory in question, and opine 
 that the poor fellow's death onight have been the result of 
 over exertion in his vocation. Be that as it may, it was 
 deemed expedient not to inform Amanda of her lover's con- 
 tinued existence, till Rosa had prepared her for the blissful 
 revelation in the gentlest manner, and an unexpected auxil- 
 iary in the form of a dream favored her design. 
 
 On entering her sister's chamber (according to her wont) 
 the next morning, she found her sitting by the window, with 
 her head resting on her folded arms. ^'Dear Amanda, what 
 is the matter?" inquired Rosa; ^^I hope you are not ill, 
 though I perceive you are paler than usual." "No, my 
 kind Rosa, T am not ill ; but surely I bear a charmed life, 
 or could I thus linger in this \veary world, a prey to such 
 wretchedness ? Oh ! Rosa, what a blessed dream was mine 
 last night ! Alas ! that it was but a dream ! Methought 
 that the dead, to whom my fate is linked, was restored to 
 life — that he had been saved from shipwreck, and borne to 
 a beautiful anil fertile island ; that we were sailing hence for 
 England, and stopped at this island to procure water and 
 fruits; there we discovered him, and, amazed and trans- 
 ported, I uttered a scream which aroused me, and I awoke 
 to bitter disappointment and vain regret." 
 
153 
 
 Rosa listened in mute astonishment ; she was not super- 
 stitious, yet the remarkable coincidence of the dream with 
 the events she had to disclose^ made her almost believe that 
 Providence had sent the vision to prepare her sister^s mind 
 for the happiness that was in store for her. 
 
 Tenderly putting aside the ringlets which clustered round 
 her brow", and looking earnestly and somewhat archly in her 
 face, she said, ''suppose, Amanda, that this extatic dream 
 should be realized, could you support the transition from wo 
 to w^eal, from misery to gladness?" Amanda started, and, 
 regarding her intently, was struck with the expression of 
 her countenance ; '^Rosa, Rosa,'' she exclaimed, 'Svhat cZo 
 your words and manner imply ? Rosa, you would not, you 
 could not venture to trifle with feelings so sacred as mine !'' 
 Rosa was silent ; but drew from her pocket Reginald's let- 
 ter to Captain Laplata, unfolded and placed it in her sister': 
 hand. With convulsive grasp and throbbing heart shi 
 seized it, read it, and, throwing herself upon her knee. . 
 poured forth thanks to Heaven for its mercy. Then, com- 
 pletely overcome, she wept and sobbed aloud. 
 
 When this burst of feeling was past, relieved by it, she 
 became more composed, and Rosa called in her husband and 
 his parents, who added their congratulations to her's. 
 
 The embarkation of the happy party for England speedily 
 ensued, and they arrived at Cherwell cottage just a week 
 before Delacy made his appearance there, as above de- 
 scribed. 
 
 Satisfactory explanations soon took place between the re- 
 junited lovers. Reginald had w^ritten several times; but 
 ^here being no regular mail to Havana from his plantation, 
 which was situated far in the interior, his letters had, doubt- 
 
154 
 
 less, miscarried. Illness, too, had prevented his writing for 
 a long while. 
 
 The episode of Adelaide Danvers, he did not dare to touch 
 upon ; nor ever could, till long after he w^as a married man, 
 and had heard of her w^ell-doing and prosperity. Amanda's 
 excuses we need not detail, as they are already known to our 
 readers 
 
 A merry wedding at Mr. Fitzgerald's added its festivi- 
 ties to those of Christmas, in the month of December suc- 
 ceeding these events. The names of the bride and bride- 
 groom may easily be surmised ; and a handsome couple they 
 were, as they stood before the clergyman to be joined in 
 holy wedlock : she m her white crape and roses ; he m his 
 blue coat and snowy vest; her sole ornament, a rich gold 
 chain ; his, a watch fastened to a braid of glossy hair — 
 which same valuables were carefully preserved and be- 
 queathed to their descendants, with an interesting legend 
 concerning them. 
 
 And now, as ^S-iU's well that ends well," we trust our 
 story, with its happy denouement, will prove satisfactory to 
 those who may chance to peruse it ; and concluding, after 
 the manner of a celebrated author, we bid them a friendly 
 adieu. 
 
ILIA, THE HIGH PRIESTESS. 
 
 The principal events of tliis story are historical ; the rest is fie-*- 
 tion, and the character of Brennns has been moulded to suit the 
 writer's fancy. 
 
 The (lay waS resplendent with sunshine, and the streets 
 of Rome were thronged with a gay and busy crowd. From 
 the balconies and windows of the houses, hung draperies of 
 yellow or crimson silk^ bright colored carpets and festoons 
 of flowers ; each decoration more or less costly, simple or 
 gaudy, according to the means and tastes of the inmates. 
 
 It Was the anniversary of the '' Vestalia/' or " Feast of 
 Vesta/' and was to be celebrated with the magnificence and 
 banqiietings usual on such occasions. 
 
 At the bead of a band of virgins, clad in snow-white vests 
 and flowing niantles of purple hue, walked Ilia, their high 
 priestess, whose gentle dignity and supreme beauty riveted 
 the admiration of many spectators. Her dress was like that 
 of her companions^ save a circlet of gold which graced her 
 brow and reflected the sun's rays as they shone upon it, 
 Radiating them like the mystic glory round the crown of a 
 saint. In her hands she bore a richly embossed silver urn, 
 wreathed with ivy, and containing an offering to her god- 
 dess. She was preceded by a lictor, carrying the Roman 
 fasces. 
 
 The office of Vestal was very ancient, and is supposed to 
 have been instituted by Eneas, King of Troy. Ilia, the 
 mother of Romulus and Remus, held it for a time, but, vio- 
 lalrhg her vestal oath, she was doomed to be buried alive/ 
 
156 
 
 Iliaj the high priestess of our story, was called after the 
 maternal parent of the royal twins, and early dedicated to 
 the service of the temple. At ten years old, her faultless 
 face and form attracted the notice of the high priest whose 
 duty it was to supply vacancies in the vestal train ; and he 
 induced her parents to consecrate her to that holy vocation. 
 Being poor, and having other children, they were glad thus 
 to provide for their little daughter, and to promote her, as 
 they thought, to honor and happiness ; for in those days it 
 was considered a blessing for any young girl if she could 
 obtain admittance into the corps of Vestals virgins, their 
 privileges v/ere so great. Every luxury was furnished them 
 at the public expense, and they were treated with the utmost 
 deference when and wherever they appeared; and as above 
 ciescribedj a lictor, bearing the Roman fasces, or consuls^ 
 rodsy always marched before them : the consuls themselves, 
 as well as the people, reverentially made way for them as 
 they passed along. If they met a criminal going to execu- 
 tion, they had the power of pardoning him, provided the 
 meeting was accidental; and in trials, their word was 
 deemed sufficient, without an oath to confirm it — indeed 
 they were frequently appointed to act as arbiters in cases of 
 difficulty or doubt. 
 
 Behind the band of virgins came another, formed of the 
 chief ladies of Rome. They were also clothed in w^hite. 
 and proceeded with downcast eyes, and uncovered heads anj 
 feet, slowly threading the streets of the city leading to ther 
 Fane they sought. On reaching it, the procession stopped ; 
 the solemn music, which had sounded from various instru- 
 ments in rich accord during its progress, ceased ; the flov;er- 
 scattering multitude separated, and in silence looked on. 
 Ilia ascended the steps of the temple, and entered its lofty 
 
157 
 
 portal ; two and two her vestals followed, and for some 
 minutes prostrated themselves before the altar w^here 
 flickered the sacred flame ; then, as if impelled by one intui- 
 tive feeling, the fair worshippers arose, and Ilia, in accents 
 sweet and clear, chanted the invocation and deposited the 
 costly gift upon the shrine. An anthem, sung by melodi- 
 ous voices in full concert, and the burning of incense, con- 
 cluded the ceremonies ; after which the crowd quickly 
 dispersed, and the vestals repaired to a sumptuous feast that 
 awaited them, where the beautiful Iha presided, and inno- 
 cent hilarily prevailed. But it was of short duration — 
 fleeting as the brightness of a summer sky, when suddenly 
 obscured by a storm-brewing thunder cloud. The banquet 
 was not half over, when an attendant, pale with aff*right, 
 entered the hall and proclaimed that the sacred fire they 
 had left upon the altar was extinguished. Immediately, 
 consternation and horror succeeded pleasure and mirth. 
 The fair revellers rushed frantically forth ; the populace 
 joined them on their way, and lamentations and cries ot 
 " to the Temple, to the Temple V' rent the air ; for the ex- 
 tinction of the holy fire was regarded as a sure prognostic 
 of calamity to the state, and always created dismay among 
 all ranks of the Roman people. 
 
 Prayers and libations were offered to Jupitor Pistor, and 
 the sacred flame rekindled with rays from the sun, by means 
 of glasses kept for the purpose, and all was again outwardly 
 tranquil. But gloomy forebodings continued to disturb the 
 minds of many, and, ere the year had run its course, were 
 but too fully realized. The close of that year saw Rome 
 in the power of her enemies ; her temples and palaces in 
 ashes, and her inhabitants blockaded in the capitol, where 
 
 M 
 
158 
 
 they had taken refuge, and fortified themselves within its 
 ramparts. 
 
 At the period about which we are wTiting, the north of 
 Italy was peopled by hordes of that fierce and gigantic race, 
 the Gauls, headed by a bold chieftain, Brennus, whose suc- 
 cess in war had spread alarm through the country. He w^as 
 assaulting Clusium, the capitol of Etruria ; but, incensed at 
 the conduct of some Roman ambassadors, he abandoned the 
 siege of that city and led his army to Rome. On his way 
 he encountered the Roman legions by the river Allia, and a 
 battle ensued, in w^hich, as usual, he was victorious. The 
 news of this battle and its results w^ere soon carried to Rome 
 by fugitives from tlie scene of carnage ; and as the Gauls, 
 whom conquest had rendered careless, loitered to plunder 
 the camp of their adversaries and divide their booty, many 
 of the Romans had time to save themselves by flight, and 
 others to secure themselves in the citadel and prepare for 
 resistance. 
 
 The vestals concealed under ground most of the sacred 
 utensils in their charge, and fled with the remainder and the 
 holy fire to the tow^n of Ccere, which they reached in safety 
 after much exertion and fatigue — all save Ilia. Seized with 
 sudden illness, she was compelled to crave shelter in a shep- 
 herd's hut, where her companions left her. They would 
 have remained to share her danger, but she urged them on. 
 " Fly, fly, my beloved friends,'' she cried ; '• be faithful to 
 your solemn trust, and leave me to the fate the gods may. 
 destine for me. Preserve the sacred fire from the touch of 
 the profane, and stay not your efforts till you have placed it 
 in security," Accustomed to obey her mandates, they has- 
 tened away. 
 
 The kind shepherd arid his wife rendered her all the 
 
159 
 
 assistance in their power, and provided lier with a pallet of 
 dried leaves in a small back room, the only retired spot their 
 habitation afforded. In a few days she recovered suffi- 
 ciently to arise and partake of their frugal repasts of brown 
 bread and goats' milk. At one of these, she thus addressed 
 them : " My kind hosts, as soon as ray strength permits, I 
 shall leave you, to rejoin my companions at Coere, and shall 
 probably never see you again ; but never will I forget your 
 generous care and hospitality, and my prayers shall daily 
 ascend to the gods for blessings on you, and rest assured 
 that they will reward you for having succored and protected 
 one whose life is consecrated to their service." 
 
 She had scarcely uttered these words, when a strain of 
 martial music was heard, and, on looking out, they beheld a 
 part of the Gaulic army advancing. They were all both 
 wshocked and terrified ; yet there was no occasion for fear, 
 Brennus, in his march to Rome, did not molest the quiet 
 inhabitants of the country, saying that he had no cause for 
 anger against them ; that to chastise the Romans for their 
 insolence to him, through their ambassadors, was alone his 
 object : so, as corps after corps passed orderly along, the 
 trembling inmates of the cabin felt their courage revive. 
 
 The army was still moving by, tramp, tramp, tramp, 
 when a warrior knocked at the door of the hut : it was 
 opened to him, and he asked for a wrapping for his hand, 
 which was wounded and bleeding profusely, though the 
 gash was not a fresh one ; but an accident had re-opened it 
 and rendered it very painful. With the usual benevolence 
 of woman, Ilia instantly tore off a portion of her tunic, and 
 with it bandaged the wound ; and as she twined the strip 
 of muslin round and round it, the warrior was struck with 
 her uncommon beauty, and gazed upon her, entranced ; and 
 
160 
 
 his atlmiration was mingled with wonderj at seeing so ra- 
 diant a being the inhabitant of so mean an abode. 
 
 After the humane task was completed, he thanked her and 
 said : '' Beautiful maiden ! in return for thy great kindness 
 and condescension, is there no service I can render unto thee? 
 no boon w^hich thou wouldst demand of Brennus, whose heart 
 beats with gratitude for thy ready and benevolent aid, and 
 yields due homage to thy surpassing charms?'^ 
 
 Ilia blushed, and with downcast eyes replied : " Noble 
 chieftain ! much thou over-ratest the small assistance I have 
 been able to afford thee in thy need : none but the most un- 
 pitying would have refused it to a fellow creature : yet will 
 I accept the gracious offer thou makest to repay the deed. 
 Behold, before thee, the high priestess of Vesta, whom sud- 
 den illness has separated from her companions in their flight 
 from Rome to Coere, whither they have gone for refuge from 
 the fearful numbers thou art leading on. Grant me a safe 
 conduct to them ; and when with thy victorious bands thou 
 hast taken possession of our fallen city, spare, oh spare, for 
 Ilia's sake, the shrine and temple of her virgin goddess !'' 
 The request was readily granted ; " but first, fair lady," 
 said the chief. '^ thou must accompany me to Rome, where 
 I pledge to thee mine honor that thou shalt be treated with 
 every respect and consideration, and that, when I have seen 
 my followers there encamped, I myself will escort thee in 
 safety to Coere." 
 
 A mysterious influence impelled Ilia to consent, and a 
 litter was formed, in which she placed herself — first having 
 taken a grateful and affectionate leave of the good old couple 
 who had so befriended her. The litter was borne along on 
 the shoulders of four stalwart soldiers ; and their commander 
 walked by its side, watching over the lovely burthen it 
 
161 
 
 contained^ with all the care of a lover : for lo ! the proud 
 conqueror of the Roman legions had become an easy captive 
 to Lovers bewitching power, and it was this sudden infatua- 
 tion that instigated him to carry Ilia to Rome before taking 
 her to Coarej hoping, by a course of devoted attentions; to 
 win her heart. Oh, Beauty, how potent is thy sway ! and 
 yet, oh Beauty, how frail thou art ! Alas ! for Ilia : little 
 recked she of the fascinations of magnanimity and valor, 
 combined with the most flattering and winning devotion, 
 and such did Brennus employ to gain her affections. Placed 
 in a gorgeous tent, and supplied with every luxury the 
 times afforded, she w-as daily visited by him, and always 
 treated with the most tender respect. Unconsciously her 
 heart became enthralled, and by degrees she not only ceased 
 to urge the fulfilment of his promise, but lent a willing ear 
 to the confession of his passion. Soon she madly returned 
 it ; consented to be his bride, and they were joined in w^ed- 
 lock. Thus, like the illustrious matron w^hose r^ame she 
 bore, she broke her vestal oath ; and by the laws of the 
 state, forfeited her life, and, what was worse, by those of 
 conscience, her self-esteem. Still, Brennus played the hus- 
 band's part so kindly, that for a while she experienced a 
 degree of happiness unknown to her before ; yet remorse 
 soon blighted it, and rendered her miserable and fearful. 
 Often, when the veil of night had fallen, and she slumbered 
 on her pillow by his side, dark dreams would disturb her 
 repose, and, starting wildly, she would exclaim : ^^ Brennus, 
 my husband, save me ! save me ! the avengers of niy perfidy 
 are near; the executors of Vesta's wrath are kindling a 
 funeral pile for me, her traitorous priestess !" Then would 
 the chieftain awake and sooth his beloved to slepp again, 
 
 as does a fond mother her ofTj^pring. 
 
 m2 
 
162 
 
 Months elapsed, and the wasted form and pallid cheek of 
 Ilia plainly indicated the harassing conflicts of her mind. 
 At length^she could bear them no longer — Rome lay in 
 ashes before her, and daily she heard the discussion of plans 
 for effecting the conquest and. destruction of the capitol, 
 which still resisted the assaults of the Gauls. Her beloved 
 temple, with its desecrated shrine, was a heap of ruins : 
 notwithstanding the strict orders of Brennus that it should 
 be preserved, as he had promised her, it was destroyed in 
 the conflagration that consumed nearly the whole of the 
 city. Pondering over these disastrous events one morning 
 as she sat alone, dejected and care-worn, an irrepressible 
 desire, a high resolve, took possession of her soul — it was 
 to expiate her crime by the sacrifice of her passion and the 
 idol which had occasioned it — to fly from Brennus and re- 
 tire into the bosom of her family, to spend the remainder of 
 her life in penitence and prayer. Falling on her knees and 
 clasping' her beauteous hands, she ardently implored the 
 forgiveness and assistance of the deity she had offended, 
 and just as she had finished her supplication, a dazzling 
 sun-beam burst through a cloud that had, till then, obscured 
 the heavens : regarding this as an omen that her petition 
 was favorably received, she arose with a lighter heart and 
 prepared to meet her husband, whose well known step she 
 heard approaching. By a violent effort she stifled her 
 emotion and received him with her usual affectionate greet- 
 ing, though at sight of him her spirit again sunk within 
 her, under the consciousness of the agonizing course she 
 had determined to pursue. 
 
 Brennus, himself, was gloomy, having just returned from 
 an unsuccessful attack upon the town of Ardea, which was 
 defended by the celebrated Roman General and Dictator, 
 
163 
 
 Camillus ; for the Gauls were so long encamped within 
 and around the walls of Rome, that they grew tired of be^ 
 ing stationary, and in separate hordes made frequent in-f 
 cursions on the neighboring states. Poor Ilia, perceiving 
 Brennus thus melancholy, cast self aside and endeavoured 
 to cheer him ; yet, though distressed for hitn, she could not 
 but rejoice at the escape and safety of those who w^ere of 
 her own nation ; and it was such contending and exciting 
 sensations as these, not unfrequently called forth, whjch 
 combined with the reproofs of conscience in embittering 
 her existence, and imperceptibly loosening the cords of life, 
 
 Several weeks had passed since the foregoing occurrence; 
 the night was dark and boisterous, and the wind, in fitful 
 and violent gusts, swayed the branches of the largest treeg 
 as if they had been mere saplings. On the banks of the 
 Tyber, not far from the walls of Rome, stood an isolated 
 building of brick ; it was moss-grown, and apparently the 
 remnant of a strong tower which had been erected for gome 
 defensive purpose in former times. This edifice had long 
 been the habitation of the bat and the owl 5 but on this 
 stormy evening its inmates were two girls and a youth, in 
 the guise of minstrels. A fire blazed in the long forsaken 
 hearth, and as the heat from the faggots ascended the 
 capacious chimney, the ill-omened birds of night fluttered 
 from their scorching nests. The noise blanched the cheeks 
 of the maidens, and they pressed closer to their protector ; 
 but soon discovering the cause of it, their alarm subsided. 
 
 Marcia and Lucia, the sisters of Ilia, and Fabius, her 
 youngest brother, were they who thus sought shelter from 
 the tempest ; while around them, in the gloom, lights 
 twinkled from the tents of the Gauls, and the hoarse voices 
 
164 
 
 of the sentinels could be distinguished in the transient 
 pauses of the storm. 
 
 The party arranged themselves as comfortably as their 
 dreary abode allowed — dispelling its chilling damps by 
 keeping up a large fire with liberal supplies of wood, which 
 Fabius had gathered on their arrival, before the rain began. 
 A log sufficed for a seat, and, luckily for them, some one 
 had deposited in a corner of the tower, a quantity of clean 
 straw", probably for forage, of which they formed a bed, 
 and covering themselves with their cloaks, fatigue soon 
 acted upon them like a soporific, and they slept soundly 
 till dawn. 
 
 The elements expended their fury during the night, and 
 the sun rose bright and clear. Fabius was the first to 
 aw^ake, and while his sisters continued to repose, he re- 
 vived the dying em^bers on the hearth, and adding more 
 faggots, kindled a cheering flame ; he then aroused them, 
 and opening a small wallet of provisions, they partook of a 
 plentiful breakfast and proceeded on their way. 
 
 '' Who goes there V^ demanded a sentinel as they saun- 
 tered by. '^ Three wandering minstrels, w^ho would fain 
 seek employment in Rome/^ was their response ; and in 
 this manner they w^ere repeatedly hailed, yet permitted to 
 advance, until they reached one of the gates of the city, 
 where the surly guards refused them entrance. '• Avaunt ! 
 ye baggage,'^ they cried, ^^ w^e want none of your whining 
 here !'^ and thus coarsely repulsed, they retreated. 
 
 ^^Well!" exclaimed Marcia, '• this is a rebuff I little 
 anticipated — I thought min$trelsy w^as welcomed every 
 where. '^ 
 
 '• So it generally is/' answered Fabius. ^- but these horri- 
 
165 
 
 ble barbarians have no relish for any thing tender or re- 
 fined." 
 
 '^ Perhaps," observed Lucia, '' one of our glees will 
 soften their gruff nature, and serve as a charm to get us in; 
 at least let us try the experiment." So they joined in a 
 trio, seating themselves on the turf, and accompanying 
 their voices with their guitars. It proved a happy thought 
 of Lucia's ; for, while they were singing, the Porta Capena 
 was thrown open to permit the passage of a cortege, in the 
 midst of which was the chief of the Gauls. Ever on the 
 alert to promote the enjoyment of Ilia, his ear no sooner 
 caught the sweet sounds that were flowing from the lips 
 and instruments of the peasants, than he stopped and dis- 
 patched one of his train to bring them to him. 
 
 ^'Minstrels/' said the messenger, " Brennus, our com- 
 mander, desires your approach." 
 
 On hearing that dreaded name, the maidens instantly 
 arose, and, with mingled hope and trepidation, followed 
 their brother, who gladly obeyed the behest. The warrior, 
 after asking them a few questions, which Fabius answered, 
 ordered them to join his retinue and follow him. The 
 cortege halted in front of a lofty tent, surmounted by a 
 crown and guarded by two sentinels, slowly pacing their 
 rounds. Brennus entered it alone, and in a few minutes the 
 minstrels were summoned again to his presence. They 
 were astonished at the splendor they beheld within ; the 
 interior was festooned with hangings of scarlet damask, 
 edged with broad silver fringes ; couches and smaller seats 
 were placed around, decorated in like manner ; and there 
 were marble tables bearing candelabras of massive gold, 
 and richly sculptured vases and urns, of Etruscan shape, 
 in many of which bloomed the choicest flowers, that filled 
 
1G6 
 
 the air with pleasant odors. Beneath a magnificent canopy 
 sat Brennus and a beautiful lady, in whom, to their utter 
 amazement, they recognized their sister, although she no 
 longer wore the sacerdotal dress they had been accustomed 
 to see her in, on festal occasions, in days gone by. The 
 simple white vest and tunic, once emblematical of her truth 
 and holiness, were exchanged for a mantle of blue velvet 
 and a boddice ornamented with pearls and brilliants ; a 
 bandeau of these also adorned her hair, w^hich was looped 
 up behind with a large gold bodkin, sparkling with diamonds. 
 Two female attendants w^aited near her. She looked, if 
 possible, more lovely than ever, though very pale and very 
 sad, except, now and then, when addressing her husband, 
 her countenance would be radiant with a smile of affection; 
 a gleam of pleasure as evanescent as bright. Ilia had 
 not seen her sisters and brother since they were children : 
 it was. therefore, not surprising that she did not know 
 them when they so unexpectedly stood before her, greatly 
 altered in stature and face. They remembered her^ because 
 they had often gaxed on her with admiration and pride 
 while she was officiating as High Priestess in the Temple, 
 totally unaware of their being among those who were 
 present. 
 
 Subsequently their father had removed his family to a 
 cottage in the Appenines, where he cultivated a vineyard, 
 and his wife plied the spindle and shuttle for support, as- 
 sisted by their children. There a vague report had reached 
 them, that Ilia was a captive in the Gaulic camp ; and Lucius 
 Albinus, a plebeian, who had overtaken the vestals, after 
 their parting with her, on the road to Ccere, and charitably 
 given them seats in the wagon in which he was transport- 
 ing his own flimily from the enemy, confirmed the startling 
 
167 
 
 intelligence, by relating the circumstances of her being 
 siezed with i:suclden illness and left behind in the shepherd's 
 cot. The news deeply afliicted her parents ; and the good 
 old TurnuS; her father, unable to attempt the journey him- 
 self, resolved to send his two remaining daughters and his 
 youngest son, who^ during the summer seasons, perambu- 
 lated the country as minstrels, to supplicate Brennus for 
 her release from bondage. ^'^ Go, my children," said he 
 to them^ '^ and be of good courage — a father's blessing at- 
 tends you ; and may the gods grant you their protection, 
 and aid you to accomplish your pious design. Should you 
 succeed in finding your unfortunate sister, then seek Bren- 
 nus, and appeal to him for her deliverance ; in him valour 
 and clemency, we hear, are united, and if so, surely he will 
 listen to your prayers, Alas ! alas ! perhaps (oh ! torturing 
 thought !) our darling Ilia, once so highly blest and honored, 
 is now the victim of insult and cruelty." 
 
 The travellers departed, and had toiled over a weary dis- 
 tanccj on the night they reached the lonely tower, when the 
 storm suddenly arose and compelled them to take shelter 
 within it till morning, when they hoped to gain admittance 
 into Rome, and information respecting Ilia and an inter- 
 view with Brennus. We have seen how Fortune favoured 
 their plans, and threw them in his way. On entering the 
 royal tent and discovering their sister, their first impulse 
 was to rush to her arms and make themselves known ; but 
 a natural timidity, in the presence of the chieftain, restained 
 the maidens, w^hile feelings of a very different nature in- 
 fluenced the youth. 
 
 After playing a variety of Italian songs and tunes, they 
 were liberally rewarded and dismissed, with directions to 
 return njrain on the morrow. A subaltern conducted them 
 
168 
 
 to the quarters allotted to them by the orders of Brennus ; 
 and when he had left them, Lucia exclaimed, ^^ Why so 
 moody, brother Fabius, when there is such cause for re- 
 joicing at the success of our errand ? And then (only 
 to think of it ! !) to have found our sweet sister no captive 
 as we anticipated, but enjoying all the honors of a Queen!" 
 
 '^ I cannot believe they afford her enjoyment y^ answered 
 Marcia, '^ for the whole time we were playing, her face was 
 the picture of wo ; and did you not observe how often her 
 eyes were suffused with tears V^ 
 
 "She deserves to be unhappy," cried Fabius indignantly; 
 ^^ /feel no pity for her. Were she an unwilling prisoner 
 in the power of the hated conqueror of our people, I would 
 gladly yield my life for her rescue ; but to behold what she 
 isj and to remember what she was, what she has forsaken, 
 and for lohom^ excites my contempt for her, and increases 
 my detestation of her destroyer !" 
 
 This sudden outbreak of passion overwhelmed the young 
 girls with astonishment. . Fabius was assuming quite a new 
 character ; and he, a mere stripling, who was ever before 
 thought gentle almost to effeminacy, now exhibited a de- 
 gree of violence that alarmed them. The truth w^as, the 
 latent pride and patriotism of his bosom were aroused at 
 finding his sister, as he thought^ a renegade from her faith, 
 and the wife of her country's foe ; and from that moment 
 he determined, by some means, to separate them. In vain, 
 that night, he courted sleep — rest, he could not ; so leaving 
 his couch, he walked out to inhale the fresh air. A faint 
 breeze was stirring, and the myriads of white tents glim- 
 mering in the star-light, looked like so many massive sepul- 
 chres. 
 
 While meditating on the subject that annoyed his mind, 
 
169 
 
 he descried a light issuing from the royal pavilion, and the 
 forms of two warriors, who appeared in earnest converse, 
 and slowly moved towards the spot where he stood. As 
 they advanced he screened himself from view, behind a 
 large tree over-hanging their path, and heard enough of 
 their discourse to feel assured that there was to be a secret 
 attack made on the capitol ere morning. 
 
 ^^ Ha ! ha !'' laughed Fabius bitterly to himself, '' the 
 gods favor my revenge, and furnish me with the means of 
 carrying it into execution. To the Tarpeian rock will I 
 hasten, and climb again the steep and tortuous path I once 
 ascended in my boyhood, to prove my courage to the 
 youngsters who were with me, and dared rae to the feat. 
 'Tis known to few, and now shall avail me to mount the 
 dizz)^ height once more, and give warning to my country- 
 men of the wily purpose of our foes.'' 
 
 Thither he quickly turned his steps, but to his amazement 
 and agony he found he was too late ! The Gauls were 
 already tugging up the very path he sought. On, on, they 
 mounted, clinging to whatever shrub, or projecting stone, 
 or crag, they could lay hokl of. Oh ! horror ! — the fore- 
 most of them gain the top ! They are on the ramparts, 
 and about to slay the faithless, sleeping guards ; when, 
 wonder of wonders ! a flock of half-starved geese, kept 
 near Juno's temple, utter shrill cries, arouse the drowsy 
 watch, and defeat the bold project of the invaders ! The 
 intrepid Consul, Manlius, with other brave Romans,* flies to 
 the rescue — the Gauls are beaten headlong ctown the preci- 
 pice, and the capitol is saved. 
 
 In the midst of the tumult and slaughter I^'abius was 
 hurrying back to his sisters, when the sight of a group of 
 figures bearing a lifeless form, which he but fob plainly re- 
 
 N 
 
170 
 
 cognized, transfixed him v»uth grief and horror. It was 
 that of Ilia ! Awakened from slumber by the noise and 
 commotion in the camp, (for Brennus had kept the intend- 
 ed attack a secret from her.) and missing her husband from 
 her side, she sprung up and ran wildly from her tent, call- 
 ing piteously upon him, and followed by her affrighted at- 
 tendants, who in vain endeavoured to calm her agitation. 
 A soldier met them and informed them that Brennus was 
 killed ; he was mistaken, the chieftain was unscathed, but 
 the shock proved too great for her shattered nerves — she 
 fell to the earth and expired I 
 
 Thus ended the short and sad career of the beautiful 
 High Priestess ; she was but nineteen. With sorrowing 
 hearts the minstrels returned to their distant mountain 
 home, and imparted to their family the mournful tidings — 
 yet not before the expulsion of the bereaved and unhappy 
 Brennus and his army by Camillus, who became the re- 
 storer of Rome and the deliverer of his country. 
 
REMINISCENCES OF A TRAVELLER. 
 
 NUMBER I. 
 
 " What a delightful day for roving !'' I exclaimedj on 
 opening my eyes one brilliant morning, and beholding the 
 golden sun-beams illuminating our pleasant room. '-Awake, 
 awake, Ismelda, my sweet companion, and let 's be going." 
 We were quickly dressed, and on our way with a party o^ 
 friends to the villa Doria-Pamphili. Oh, the exhilarating 
 month of October ! how we enjoyed our walk, and greeted 
 with lightsome hearts the flowers and breezes which regaled 
 us at every step. (Breezes which re-galed us — a tolerable 
 pun ; but, really, I did not intend to make one.) 
 
 We soon reached the villa, for it is but three-fourths of a 
 mile from Rome. Its grounds are extensive and magnifi- 
 cent, and peculiarly interesting from the numbers of ancient 
 tombs, inscriptions and statues scattered about ; above all, 
 from some excavated catacombs within its precincts. Sur- 
 rounding every apartment of these catacombs, are rows of 
 small arches, each of which encloses a cinerary urn in aper- 
 jfect state, although centuries have elapsed since it was 
 deposited in its sombre niche. As we surveyed these me- 
 morable antiquities, that solemn fiat — ^'Dust thou art, and 
 to dust thou shalt return" — came forcibly to mind ; for here 
 the good, the brave, the beautiful, the proud, the wicked, 
 reduced to heaps of earth, painfully illustrate its power and 
 truth. I thought, too, of the probable struggles of many of 
 
172 
 
 them for that alluring and deceiving meteor, worldly fame ! 
 What availed their eflForts? Here, unknown, repose their 
 ashes, while their virtues or their crimes, their very names^ 
 like their frail bodies, are buried in oblivion. Happy those 
 w^hose wishes soared beyond these mortal scenes, and sought 
 a surer friend in Heaven ! 
 
 My ruminations w^ere interrupted by a summons to share 
 the rural breakfast of fruit, milk and biscuit, w4th w^hichwe 
 had provided ourselves. On this luxurious domain are arti- 
 ficial cascades and grottoes, fountains of every description, 
 an amphitheatre, and a superb lake. Seated on its borders, 
 we partook of our repast, and, in defiance of sentiment and 
 romance, did it ample justice — thanks to our early pro- 
 menade and Italian zephyrs ! Vegetation prospers long in 
 so bland a climate ; and on the 9th of October, 1827, we 
 rambled through verdant thickets, and tripped over turf 
 enamelled wath flowers ! 
 
 While we w^ere in the amphitheatre, an old man, who 
 acted as cicerone, slipped, unperceived by us, into a closet, 
 behind a marble figure representing a shepherd blowing his 
 flute, and turned a wheel ; immediately (as if the statue of 
 Memnon had been transported from Egypt) dulcet sounds 
 issued from that before us, accompanied by the murmur of a 
 hundred little water spouts W'hich sprung from the ground 
 like magic, played while the music continued, and wuth it 
 gradually melted away. 
 
 Among the various inhabitants of the poultry yard w-ere 
 snow-white pea-fowls. They were not comparable in beauty 
 of plumage to those of the usual colors, but they strutted 
 about with quite as much vanity. Two buildings, in the 
 form of a miniature temple and tower, afford shelter to them 
 and their feathery companions when necessary. 
 
173 , 
 
 The interior of the villa does not correspond with the 
 decorations without. We were surprised at its plainness, 
 its coarse brick floors and faded; ordinary furniture. Some 
 ancient chandeliers, however, were remarkable, and we ad- 
 mired several of its numerous old paintings and mutilated 
 statues. From the roof vre enjoyed a fine view of Rome 
 and its environs, and quite feasted our eyes upon an adjoin- 
 ing grove of stately pines : they told of ^' dear native home.'^ 
 The villa occupies the site of the Emperor Galba's gardens, 
 and was constructed in the sixteenth century for Prince 
 Pamphili, by Alexander Algardi, a distinguished architect 
 and sculptor of Bologna. 
 
 The present princess Doria is a beautiful creature, of ma- 
 jestic mien, and noted for her charity and religious zeal* 
 During the celebration of the holy week, we witnessed the 
 Avashing of the pilgrims in the establishment appropriated 
 to the females ; and there we saw her bending over a pail 
 of water and bathing the feet of an aged crone, with the 
 humility of a Magdalen. She is exceedingly popular^ and 
 proves how lovely piety is in woman. It is carried to su- 
 perstitious excess by both sexes in Italy. Shrines, dedi- 
 cated to the virgin Mary, adorn every road-side, and are 
 seldom destitute of votaries kneeling before them, '^ telling 
 their beads,'' and imploring her protection and favor; to 
 conciHate w^hich, and to evince their devotion, even the 
 poverty-stricken will spend their last mite in purchasing a 
 chaplet of flowers or a waxen heart for her brow or bosom. 
 
 Protestants often smile at what they term Ro?naii Catho- 
 lic credulity ; yet it is a blessed thing to possess such ardor 
 and faith as we daily observed among the lowest ranks, 
 producing content and cheerfulness, although common sense 
 
 and ir]dustry were the consequent sacrifice; and that such 
 
 n2 
 
174 
 
 was not always the result, the following incident will prove. 
 
 I learnt it from Mrs. , and detail it, as nearly as I can, 
 
 in her own words : 
 
 '^ While travelling through Tuscany, we were attracted, 
 one day, by the interesting appearance of a young peasant, 
 who diligently whirled her spindle as she presided over a 
 flock df goats. Her garments were coarse and much worn, 
 biit'^cleaW; and the countenance of the blooming girl so 
 intelligent and prepossessing, that we were induced to be- 
 stow on her a trifle, and enquire about her parentage and 
 situation. ' They call me Teresa,' she replied ; ' and the 
 madonna takes care of me, for I have neither father nor 
 mother. They died while I was an infant; and I do not 
 i^vcn know what were their names. A poor woman had 
 charge of me, but she treated me cruelly ; and as soon as I 
 was old enough to work, I ran away from her. In my dis- 
 tress, I prayed fervently to the madonna ; she heard me, 
 and moved the heart of a lady to have pity on my forlorn 
 condition, and give me a home and employment. I still 
 live with her, for she is a good mistress — gives me plenty of 
 bread and grapes to eat, and never beats me. At night I 
 sleep in her barn, and in the day I tend her goats and spin 
 flax.' After hearing this recital, we offered her more 
 money : she was in raptures — kissed our hands as we cast 
 it into her apron, and exclaimed, ^ never did I expect to be 
 so rich ! Now^ I can buy a crown for the madonna, and go 
 to mass and pray for blessings on my generous benefac- 
 tresses.' Happy Teresa ! The madonna did not forsake 
 her. Years afterwards, we met her in the same neighbor- 
 hood, neatly dressed and the picture of contentment and 
 health." 
 
17J 
 
 NUMBER II. 
 
 Our visit to the crater of Vesuvius proved less fatiguing 
 than we anticipated. After an early breakfast, one morning 
 in 18 — , we proceeded from Naples to Portici, (four miles 
 distant,) in carriages, and there devoted an hour to Hercu- 
 laneura. Immediately over this buried city stand the 
 villages of Portici and Resina ; and to ensure their safety, 
 by strengthening their foundations, the excavations beneath 
 them have been so filled up, that only a very limited space 
 remains to explore ; and an extensive theatre is the sole 
 building left exposed, to gratify modern research or curi- 
 osity. Of this, the stage, orchestra and seats are of 
 stone, and in full preservation. In one of the lobbies we 
 plainly discerned, on the hardened lava, an impression of 
 the lips, nose and eyes of a face, probably that of some 
 statue. To enter this nether region, w^e traversed the cel- 
 lar of a house, and passing through a low door- way within 
 it, followed a winding and narrow passage, which descended 
 gradually into the earth and terminated in the vestibule of 
 the theatre. Our w^axen torches cast a yellow glare over 
 every countenance, and added to the solem^nity of the scenq 
 — it was something like the procession of ghosts in " Mac- 
 beth." Danger, too, seemed impending, as we listened to 
 the thunderinor roll of carriages in the streets above out 
 heads ; so that we were Mn to finish our tour of inspection 
 as expeditiously as possible, and to return to sun-shine and 
 our inn. There, both annoyance and amusement awaitecj 
 us — at least a dozen stout Lazzaroni greeted our approach 
 — each had a donkey saddled and bridled, which he urged 
 us to take to convey us to Yesuvlus, and loudly proclaimed! 
 
176 
 
 its merits and the excellence of its gear, at the same time 
 decrying the property of his comrades. ^^ Oh/^ said one, 
 '^ mine is the strongest, the swiftest, the surest ! and the 
 saddle is almost new — there is none here to compare with 
 it — and see^ it is the only one lined with red, (a favorite 
 color wdth the Neapolitans,) — the others are scarcely jit to 
 carry a Signora.'^ In fact I thought they would have 
 pulled us to pieces ; for, in their eagerness to obtain em- 
 ployment, they actually siezed hold of our dresses and arms. 
 At lenojth we contrived to make a selection, and moved off 
 in cavalcade, amid the triumphs of the favored, and, for 
 aught I know, the maledictions of the rejected. The sad- 
 dles w^ere large and comfortable, and bordered on the right 
 side and behind by a ridge, several inches high, stuffed and 
 lined, for the purpose of supporting the rider when ascend-, 
 ing a steep hill or mountain. 
 
 On reaching the Hermitage of San Salvadore, which is 
 just half-way up Vesuvius, we alighted and refreshed our- 
 selves with some of the far-famed Lachry m8e Christi, 
 (tears of Christ !) a luscious wine, worthy of its reputa- 
 tion. It is naade from the grapes in the neighbourhood of 
 the mountain, and derives its appellation from the manner 
 in which it exudes from them, even before they are sub- 
 jected to any pressure but their own weight ; it drops from 
 the press like tears^ and is of crimson hue. A mile from 
 the Hermitage, we again abandoned our mules, and climbed 
 the " ashy steep" on foot. Advancing slowly, and secured 
 to our guides by leathern belts, we accomplished the task- 
 without difficulty ; perils there was none ; for^ at every 
 step, we sunk into the dried and parphed soil, as if treading 
 on newly ploughed ground, and, of course, there w^as no 
 risque of slipping ; but the jerking raotion, occasioned by 
 
177 
 
 the unequal walk of our conductors, was extremely dis- 
 agreeable, and I quickly liberated myself from harness and 
 held the strap in my hand, to pull against, when assistance 
 was requisite. As we progressed, our sensations of won- 
 der and delight increased. There we were — environed by 
 a surface of blackened lava, miles in extent, and totally de* 
 void of a tree, or bush, or any semblance w^hatever of 
 vegetation. Above us, curled the thick smoke of the vol- 
 cano, mingled with white and greyish vapours, which, ow* 
 ing to the dampness of the weather, arose from the earth. 
 Below us lay expanded the '^ blue glittering bay of Na- 
 ples," with its twin promontories, islets, villages and cities; 
 beyond these, in perspective, soared a series of undulating 
 appenines, tinged with that soft plumb-like hue so pecu- 
 liar to Italy. Gazing upwards, I thought of Pluto's dis- 
 mal empire — doianwards, of Paradise itself. The abodes 
 of misery and happiness seemed to have changed places. 
 The blendino; of lio;ht and shade was strikino; and beaiiti- 
 ful ! The traveller was right, I think, who designated light 
 as the physiognomy of scenery, and compared a landscape 
 to a regular set of features ; avering that both may be 
 good, but neither speak, unless the light of Nature, or 
 of ?nir,d, illumine them. 
 
 Owing to the continual crumbling of the lava, the crater 
 presents a different form almost annually; to iis its outline 
 was that of an oval ; some parts of the edge were too hot 
 to stand upon for more than a few minutes, and a sheet of 
 paper thrust in, soon ignited. We descended fourteen feet 
 into the abyss, and walked upon a broad and projecting 
 rock, where we distinctly heard the crackling of the flames 
 in the aperture whence oozed the fiery smoke. The next 
 day this gigantic rock tumbled down, and created a dread- 
 
178 
 
 ful panic in the vicinity of the mountain. The crash it 
 made, and the quantity of ashes and cinders it forced into 
 the air, caused persons^ for an instant, to beUeve that an 
 irruption was commencing, and to rush from their dwellings. 
 When told of this event, I trust all of our party felt grate- 
 ful to Providence for saving us from the awful end that 
 would have been ours, had the avalanche occurred twenty- 
 eight hours sooner. None of us desired the celebrity of 
 Pliny, the elder, that *• Martyr of Nature,'' as he is justly- 
 styled, upon condition of sharing his fate. When we grew 
 tired of looking and admiring, (for even contrast may be- 
 come monotonous.) we descended and remounted our don- 
 keys, which manifested much more willingness in carrying 
 back their burdens to Portici, than they had done in bring- 
 ing them from there. 
 
 On reaching Naples, it was quite late, and we were rather 
 exhausted, yet could not resist the temptation of going to 
 the Opera, to see Madame Pasta in ^^ Tancredi.'' The 
 magnificent theatre of Don Carlos was brilliant with lamps, 
 chandeliers, and gilding. Its drop-curtain was the most 
 splendid I ever saw — it was blue and gold, with a rich 
 border of roses, and the centre adorned with Cupids, in 
 cars, drawn by various animals. To show that ^^ Love 
 conquers all things,'' was (I conjecture) the design. The 
 King and Queen, with their suite, were present, and Pasta 
 seemed inspired. She was more than human. We had 
 heard her before, but never did she appear as lovely, or 
 sing so divinely. Her voice might have vied wdth the 
 clearest and softest flute, as she executed most difficult and 
 exquisite passages in music. Well might she be called the 
 queen of song. When we retired to our pillows that 
 
179 ^ 
 
 night, it was to dream of her syren notes and eloquent 
 acting. 
 
 Sulky clouds portended rain when we arose next morn- 
 ing, at an early hour, in order to prepare for another ex- 
 cursion — our goal, Pompeii; in its loneliness and desolation ! 
 While breakfasting^ the sky vented its wrath in a plentiful 
 and rapid shower, after which the clear blue ether triumph- 
 ed in the heavens ; and at 8 o'clock we departed, with 
 the presage of a fine day, and travelling baskets well 
 stocked with provisions for a cold dinner in the villa of 
 Diomede, the first edifice that presents itself^ as you enter 
 Pompeii, by what is termed the Appian way — the way we 
 intended going. We retraced our steps as far as Portici, 
 and thence proceeded through the towns of Torre del Greco 
 and Torre del Annunziata, both of which sujSfered from the 
 burning torrents of Vesuvius ; indeedy were destroyed by 
 them, but have since been rebuilt. We saw vineyards' 
 which the lava had streamed across, and becoming cold, had 
 formed, in some places, solid crusts, several feet thick, ahrf 
 of a brown color ; portions of the road w^ere hewn through 
 these stony beds. We were informed that the lava runs 
 very slowly, and that the smallest impediment will stop its- 
 course — it then swells, sometimes, to the height of a dozen' 
 or fourteen feet, environs whatever hinders its progress, till 
 it has destroyed or covered it ; flints and porous rocks 
 it causes to break, with an explosion like gun-powder ; 
 trees, and wooden objects, it ignites and consumes ; when 
 hardened, it is capable of receiving a brilliant polish, and is 
 applied to ornamental as well as useful purposes. Most of 
 the Neapolitan towns, both ancient and modern, are paved 
 with it. As we approached Pompeii, our interest almost 
 amounted to awe — we arrived, and thrilling with curiosity. 
 
180 
 
 alighted near the Herculaneum gate ; our path towards it 
 was bordered by a double row of mausoleums, massive, grey 
 with age, and bearing inscriptions, some of which were 
 quite legible. 
 
 After examining them, we quitted this funeral suburb and 
 entered the city — silently Ave threaded its solitary streets ; 
 their raised footways flanked with tenantless, roofless 
 houses, wherein the stillness of death prevailed. Not a 
 sound was audible, save our loitering steps upon the mosaic 
 floors, and our low-toned voices when we made a casual ob- 
 servation or questioned the cicerone who accompanied us. 
 Mirth or loud conversation would have seemed unbefitting, 
 while w^andering through that solemn city, with its decay- 
 ing fanes, theatres and dwellings of yore ! The horrible 
 fate of the beings who once enlivened them gleamed, too, 
 upon our memories, and added depth to feeling as w^e viewed 
 and inspected their forsaken haunts. 
 
 It is inferred, how^ever, that the Pompeiians generally 
 escaped wuth their lives, as not more than a hundred skele- 
 tons have ever been discovered among the ruins, and only 
 one in the theatre, where, according to history, the people 
 were assembled in great numbers, w^hen the irruption began ; 
 and that as the volcano always gives indications of a violent 
 and dangerous discharge hours before it takes place, only 
 those perished who were too old, too feeble or too sick to 
 run, or perhaps too avaricious to abandon their wealth in 
 their flight."* Of this miserly class, Diomede, in whose 
 stately mansion we dined, (as above stated,) was conjec- 
 
 * Vasi, in liis ''picture of Naples and environs." tells us that 
 '' wlien dense clouds of black smoke arise, and particularly when 
 they assume the form of a cone or pine tree, it is considered as an 
 iiiialiible sign of an a]r})r(jacliing eruption." 
 
181 
 
 tured to be, because his skeleton was found near his gate, 
 grasping a key in one hand, and coins and jewels in the 
 other. With him, strong in death was the ruling passion ! 
 In his cellar we saw fifteen wine casks glued to the wall 
 by lava, and evident impressions of five or six human bo- 
 dies. 
 
 Pompeii was buried beneath a deluge of ashes and cin- 
 ders ; from which it has been completely dug out, and now 
 stands fully revealed, resembling a city that has been the 
 prey of flames, except that its walls and window-sills are 
 not blackened by smoke. Its houses are only two stories 
 high, but many of them are rich in architectural ornament 
 and arabesque painting — many are adorned with colonades, 
 enclosing a spacious court, with a fountain or reservoir in 
 the centre. Over the principal doors of some, the names of 
 the owners are written in red paint. Among others, I re- 
 collect those of Pansa, the Roman consul, and Caius Sallust, 
 the historian : the latter is said to have possessed one of the 
 inost beautiful residences in the city, containing a great deal 
 of handsome furniture, and mosaic decorations, statues and 
 paintings, which, with myriads from other mansions, public 
 and private, have been conveyed to the Museum in Naples, 
 rendering it a complete Golconda of such treasures. It is 
 surprising, in what ii perfect state the things are, and how 
 much the articles of household furniture, and utensils for 
 various purposes, resemble those of the present century 
 designed for similar sse. 
 
 The streets of Pompeii are regular and straight, but en- 
 tirely too narrow to admit of carriages passing each other 
 in any of them; so that a certain number must have been 
 appropriated to vehicles proceeding in certain directions. 
 The traces of wheels still indent the pavement of several, 
 
182 
 
 and not being more than two or three feet apart, prove that 
 the carriages of those times were very diminutive — perhaps 
 mere cars or small open chariotS;, such as we see depicted in 
 antique paintings. 
 
 The grandest and best preserved of the public edifices 
 are the Temple of Isis, the Palace of Justice, and the 
 AmphitheatrCj where the famous combat took place be- 
 tween the Pompeiians and the Nocereans during an exhi- 
 bition of gladiators, for which the Roman Senate exiled its 
 leaders, and prohibited all such sports for the space of ten 
 years. The shops of Pompeii excite equal interest, though, 
 of course, not equal admiration with its nobler and more 
 aristocratic buildings. The statuary^s, the apothecary's, 
 the carpenter's, the jeweller's occupation, is either men- 
 tioned on a sign Vvithout, or designated by some mark or 
 emblem within. The counter of the apothecary bears stains 
 of vials and glasses, which contained something corrosive ; 
 that of the confectioner displays those of saucers and cups, 
 and in the bakery are ovens. We lingered through these 
 deserted abodes, once the busy scene of human activity and 
 labor, but now so '' sad, solitary and silent," till the slant- 
 ing rays of the declining sun invested them with a factitious 
 cheerfulness, at the same time that they warned us to de- 
 part if we wished to be benefited by their light during 
 our ride home : so, bestowing the w^ell-earned and ex- 
 pected recompense upon our honest and intelligent '^ Si- 
 vanni" for his services, we returned to bustling, thriving, 
 noisy Naples. The moon rose in splendor as we entered it, 
 and the long ride, and the sentimental, exciting and mo- 
 ralizing day we had spent, did not decrease our appetites, 
 when we attacked the abundant supper which awaited us. 
 
183 
 
 NUMBER III. 
 
 A VISIT TO THE SHAKERS. 
 
 On the 17th of September^ 18 — ^ our curiosity was 
 highly gratified by a visit to the celebrated Shaker village, 
 about two miles from New-Lebanon, in the state of New- 
 York. It consisted, principally, of yellow wooden houses, 
 with neat and verdant yards around them. Their gardens 
 and orchards w^ere regularly laid out, and kept as clean and 
 nice as possible ; and their vegetables and fruits cultivated 
 with the greatest attention and care. The women wore 
 dark-coloured gowns, black-stuff shoes with old-fashioned 
 high heels ; and on their necks and heads, white muslin 
 kerchiefs and caps. They turned their hair back from the 
 forehead and tucked it up behind. The men w^ore theirs 
 very short, and were clad in suits of grey or brown. 
 
 We were received with much hospitality, and treated 
 with delicious cider, bread and butter, cheese and milk. 
 They shewed us their whole establishment — the dairy, tho 
 cheese-room, the dining-room, kitchen and chambers, and 
 we were surprised at the numerous ingenious contrivances 
 they had, for saving labor and rendering themselves com- 
 fortable. We saw about thirty of them at dinner. When 
 they had finished eating they knelt down, and not a sound 
 was heard, or movement made, for seme minutes ; each ap- 
 peared absorbed in devotion. Having thus returned thanks, 
 all arose simultaneously and hastened away to busines$. 
 
 Our guides were extremely affable and communicative, and 
 told and shewed us many things, which I shall not take 
 time to narrate at present. In the depository, or store, 
 
184 
 
 they had for sale, boxes, brooms, sieves, brushes, silver 
 pens, pincushions, and various other articles, but no baskets, 
 much to our disappointment, for we wished to have pur- 
 chased some ; they told us they had been in such demand, 
 that from a large supply, not one was left. Their work, 
 of every description, was uncommonly neat and substantial, 
 so w^e consoled ourselves with mats and wooden spoons. In 
 consequence of a shower, we were detained among these 
 singular beings for several hours; at length we got 
 off, probably, as much to their satisfaction as our own. 
 
 The next day being the sabbath, we resolved to attend 
 their worship, and accordingly, after breakfast, again pro- 
 ceeded to their village ; there was a considerable party of 
 us, and we filled several carriages. The church was a white 
 wood building, with a tin roof; it stood on a most velvet- 
 like and beautiful green mound, enclosed by a white paling; 
 it looked like purity itself ; but what fantastic ceremonies 
 did we witness within ? None that inspired either devotion 
 or respect. When we entered, the men were ushered in at 
 a different door from the one that admitted the women ; for 
 the sexes are not permitted to sit together. The walls of 
 the church were painted blue, the windows were numerous 
 and large, and the floor of fine plank, nicely scoured and 
 sanded. 
 
 The service lasted upwards of two hours, and was 
 well worth a journey to witness. The men arranged them- 
 selves in corps of ten abreast, opposite to similar corps of 
 women. With clasped hands and solemn faces, they re- 
 mained motionless, till, urged by the Spirit, (as they term it,) 
 one would advance into the space between them and the 
 phalanx of females, and deliver a sort of lecture, the 
 greatest recommendation of which was its brevity ; then 
 
185 
 
 resuming his place in the ranks, prayer and shouting arose, 
 accompanied by a gentle movement of their persons up and 
 down, by raising themselves on their toes. When this had 
 continued about half an hour, a signal was given, upon 
 which they brought forward, from the sides of the church, 
 long benches, and arranged them in straight lines ; men and 
 women still keeping places and distance as when previously 
 standing. As there was not room enough on the benches 
 for all to sit, some took turns wdth their neighbours. In 
 the meanwhile one of the elders preached quite a good 
 sermon, and was succeeded by another, who equally edified 
 us. Each stood facing their visitors, (our party,) to whom 
 they seemed to address themselves, and not to their own 
 sect on either side of them. When the second elder had 
 ended his discourse, the benches w^ere removed with much 
 dexterity, and again they formed themselves into tw^o corps 
 as at first, and we had a repetition of speaking, praying, 
 and shouting. At length they became quiet, and an old 
 man advanced towards us, and requested that there might 
 be neither whispering nor laughing among the strangers ^ 
 at the manner in which they were about to worship God, 
 He said they acted with sincerity of heart, and with a view 
 to the Creator's glory. He then retreated, and in an in- 
 stant he and his companions stripped off their coats, and 
 turned their sallow faces to the wall and their backs to us ; 
 the women did likewise, with the exception of disrobing. 
 In that position they sung, with loud and harsh voices, a 
 monotonous tune, and danced with all their might, for at 
 least fifteen minutes ; then with the skill of experienced 
 soldiers, they arranged themselves four abreast, (males and 
 females always in distinct columns,) and marched round 
 
 and round, tUl their bones must certainly have ached. 
 o2 
 
186 
 
 They held their arms up from the elbow, and let their 
 hands droop from the wrist^ looking, for all the world, like 
 a flock of penguins. Sometimes they prayed, sometimes 
 they sung and loudly clapped their hands ; yet did these 
 make less noise than another set^ who stood, with joined 
 hands, as if going to dance a reel in the centre of the church, 
 and almost stunned us with their vociferations. 
 
 We quite rejoiced when the commotion was over, and 
 the moment of departure arrived, and did not fail to hasten 
 ours. It was painful to behold our fellow-creatures under 
 the influence of such absurd fanaticism ! 
 
 We remained only a couple of days at Lebanon. The 
 season for bathing and drinking the waters there, being 
 past, it was not an inviting sojourn, and we soon retraced 
 the road back to Albany. 
 
 The old Dutch houses, with which that city abounded, 
 with their antiquated roofs and windows, interested me 
 much more than its statelier residences and public edifices. 
 
 We visited the spacious yellow mansion in which the 
 veteran, Gen. Schuyler, used to reside. The yard and gar- 
 den w^ere rendered almost gloomy, by the number of trees 
 which shaded them. Most of them were cedars, and other 
 Fombre-tinted evergreens, reminding us of Lord Byron's 
 beautiful lines on the cypress : 
 
 " Darli tree ! still sad when other's grief is fled, 
 The only constant mourner o'er the dead!" 
 
187 
 
 NUMBER IV. 
 
 A SHORT SOJOURN IN FRANKFORT ON THE MAIN, 
 
 Well, as I was saying, we lefc Darmstadt at 2 o'clock, 
 A. M., in a drizzling rain. On the route, we passed through 
 Langen, Spreudlingen and Neuf-Isenbourg. At Langen, we 
 baited the hprses, and; w^hile waiting at the inn, observed 
 in a neighbouring pool a brood of remarkably beautiful 
 (Jucks — about the neck and breast their plumage was white ; 
 on the rest of their bodies, of a rich green and black; and 
 their bills of the brightest yellow — they resembled the Ame- 
 rican summer duck. Another set w^ere of a pale brown, 
 with bills slightly hooked, and white or brown tufts on their 
 heads, looking very regaL 
 
 Between Langen and Isenbourg, \ve threaded a forest of 
 noble oak and beech trees, that were really brilliant with 
 the hues of autumn. The rain had ceased, and, a3 we ap- 
 proached Frankfort, numerous and flourishing vineyards 
 perfumed and enlivened our road, filled with men, women, 
 girls and boys gathering their luscious products. Some of 
 the men w^ore three-cornered hats, and some of the women 
 white quilted cotton caps with stiff peaked crowns, (I thought 
 them frightful ;) while others, more youthful in appearance, 
 had their hair platted and wound entirely round the head ; 
 the little girls wore their's in bands falling to their waists, 
 as is the fashion among us at present. 
 
 The view of the town, river, and mountains beyond it, 
 was enchanting ! We crossed the stone bridge over the 
 IVJain, and were set down at the ^' Hotel of the Golden 
 
188 
 
 Swan." It was past 8 o'clock — so we were fain to sup and 
 j-etire for the night. The next morning we commenced our 
 peregrinations by a visit to the Roemer^ an ancient Gothic 
 edifice, where the Emperors used to be elected and crowned, 
 and where the Senate still sits. The spacious hall in which 
 they meet is wainscotted with crimson damask, and its ceil- 
 ing ornamented with the coats of arms of the nine electors.* 
 In the '^ Hall of the Emperors/^ forty-eight niches contain 
 a likeness of each, painted to represent a bust of bronze on 
 a pedestal, w^ith its shadow behind it, w^hich serves as a 
 strong relief, and produces a good effect. The walls and 
 ceiling of this room are decorated w^ith various devices and 
 a picture of the judgment of Solomon. In front of the 
 Eoemer stands a fountain, surmounted by a statue of Jus- 
 tice : from this fountain wine is played for the populace on 
 .certain fete days. 
 
 The Cathedral next engaged us; it is old and ugly, and 
 in the form of a cross. The clock is placed within the 
 building, and the hours are struck by two little figures each 
 side of it. On the right of the altar is the tomb of Gun- 
 ther, the poet of Schwartzburg ; he was poisoned by a rival, 
 w^ho w^as jealous of his favor at court. The Cathedral is 
 dedicated to St. Bartholomew, and contains two horrid pic- 
 tures of his martyrdom. While w^e were making our ob- 
 servations, a christening party entered ; and after witnessing 
 the ceremony we came away, and strolled through the Zeil, 
 the finest street in the city ; and then, by way of contrast, 
 took a view of the Jews' quarter — a dark, dirty and narrow 
 defile, abounding with JShylock-lookmg personages, of whom 
 I really felt afraid. The sides of many of the houses were 
 
 * A change made in the Constitution of the Empire in 1798 (since 
 tlie building of the room) has increased the number to ten. 
 
189 
 
 slated^ and the windows of all of them extremely small. 
 We saw the antique residence of the Rothschild family, the 
 sons of which have become the chief bankers of Europe. It 
 is a plain and humble dwelling. 
 
 Frankfort is a spacious, modern-looking town ; and but 
 for the recollection of Goethe and Werter, alHed with no 
 poetic or romantic associations. They were natives of the 
 place, although Werter resided thirty miles distant : his real 
 name was Jerusalein, Some author (I do not remember 
 whom) bewails Goethe's having been born in the heart of a 
 pounds-shillings-and-pence city, instead of the depths of an 
 Alpine forest ; but surely his imaginations and flmcy were 
 sufficiently vivid, without farther aid from Nature ; and it 
 was for the sake of the author's own faculties, that the re- 
 gret was expressed. Near the porte of Friedbourg (one of 
 the gates of the town) we remarked a curious monument, 
 and, on enquiry, were informed that it was erected by Fre- 
 derick the 2nd, of Prussia; in memory of a Hessian Prince 
 and his followers, w^ho were killed at the siege of Frankfort, 
 in 1792. It consists of an immense block of marble placed 
 on a pile of rocks ; the four sides are plated with copper, on 
 which are inscriptions in German and Latin ; upon the sum- 
 mit lies a gigantic helmet and shield, a cannon and a huge 
 lion's skin ; it makes one think of the wondrous story of 
 the '^Castle of Otranto." 
 
 Our next resting place w\as the Church of St. Catherine; 
 here we seated ourselves to recover breath and examine a 
 good painting over the altar, the subject of which w\is the 
 Redeemer at prayer in Gethsemane, and his disciples sleep- 
 ing around him ; the chandeliers of this church are of glass, 
 and somewhat curious ; two of them were surmounted with 
 an image of St. Catherine holding her sword ; a third with 
 two crucifixes, each bearing the body of our Saviour. 
 
190 
 
 By this time we were pretty well satisfied with sight-see- 
 ing, and returned to our lodgings ; as we walked along, we 
 observed small mirrors of oval shape attached to the win- 
 dows of many of the houses, and so fixed as to reflect ob- 
 jects for a considerable distance up or down the street. We 
 thought; at first, they were intended for that sole purpose ; 
 but our landlord told us they were used thus, in order to 
 reflect the rays of the sun and introduce them into rooms 
 that, without them, w^ould be too sombre. Having recruit- 
 ed our strength and energy, we proceeded, in the afternoon, 
 to the neiv Library, a stately edifice of stone, with a portico 
 supported by Corinthian colunins. There was not much to 
 be seen within ; a moderate collection of books ; a few 
 Egyptian antiquities, and some indifferently painted por- 
 traits, but an excellent one of Martin Luther ; in a glass 
 case were carefully preserved a stout pair of shoes, a blue 
 linen shirt, and a coat of mail, once his, two of his letters, 
 and two of Philip Melancthon's, his wise and gentle coad- 
 jutor in the reformation^ whose benignity and moderation 
 contrasted strongly with Luther^s vehemence and impetu- 
 osity. 
 
 Bethmann's garden and museum interested us very much. 
 Mr. Bethmann is a millionaire, and a great admirer of the 
 fine arts, which he liberally patronizes. His garden is lux- 
 urient and beautifully laid out and decorated. His museum 
 stands in it, and is divided into four apartments, one devoted 
 to orange trees and other shrubs and plants ; the remaining 
 three, to statues and busts of marble and plaister. Danne- 
 ker's exquisite statue of Ariadne riding on a panther, has a 
 room appropriated to itself. The coloured glass of the 
 window tinges the figure with a roseate hue. The nymph 
 is represented in a most graceful attitude, and with a coun- 
 
191 
 
 tenance beaming with love and hope, for it is as the joyous 
 bride of Bacchus, and not the forsaken of Theseus, that the 
 sculptor has depicted her. Her head is wreathed with 
 grape leaves, and she is sitting on a drapery, which falls 
 naturally and tastefully over the back of the panther ; both 
 figures are done to the life ! It seems as if a touch of the 
 finger would leave an impression on them. And here a 
 slight sketch of the artist, John Henry Von Danneker, 
 may not be amiss. 
 
 His birth-place was Stuttgard, and his family of low 
 origin, and so poor that they could not afford to give 
 him an education, except the simplest schooling. His 
 talent for sculpture was indicated early in youth, by his 
 carving, on the materials of a neighbouring stone-cutter, 
 various designs and objects. Charles, Duke of Wirtemburg, 
 in whose employ his father served as hostler, struck with 
 the intelligence of his mien, received him into a military 
 school he had established for the sons of his dependents, 
 and, afterw^ards, furnished him with funds to visit Paris, 
 whither he travelled on foot, and where he remained nearly, 
 two years diligently devoting himself to his profession, and 
 submitting to the greatest privations, in consequence of the 
 ardour with w^hich he pursued it. He repaired to Rome 
 from Paris, again travelling on foot ; here he met with 
 Canova, who proved a warm friend to him, and assisted 
 him with his counsels and instructions. At the end of five 
 years, he returned to Germany, and was made Professor of 
 the Fine Arts, in the vStuttgard Academy. He is now one 
 of the most indefatigable and eminent of modern sculptors, 
 and not only estimated for his genius, but beloved for his 
 excellent qualities. Canova used to style him "the Blessed.'' 
 Here we will bid him adieu and return to Frankfort. 
 
192 
 
 A drive round its environs the following morning, was both 
 refreshing and delightful ; a perfect garden, a FAnglaise, 
 encompasses it and abounds in a variety of trees and flowers; 
 there were many beautiful spruce pines, and, wherever there 
 was shade from foilage, rustic seats allured the pedestrian. 
 Swans and ducks in abundance were swimming about on 
 streams and sheets of water. We made a second pilgrim- 
 age to the Cathedral, to ascend the tower, on the top of 
 which, to our utter amazement, we found the sexton and 
 his wife residing in a small cabin, put up there for their 
 accommodation ! They told us that they rarely quitted 
 their airy pinnacle more than twice a week ; the stair-way 
 leading to it was so steep and fatiguing, we could vouch for 
 the truth of the assertion by our own feelings at the mo- 
 ment. 
 
 At night, we went to the Theatre ; both its exterior and 
 interior are handsome ; over the stage was an illuminated 
 clock; the music was good, and among the performers 
 we heard a fine female vocalist; there were many gen- 
 teel looking women in the pit as well as the boxes — they 
 wore large bonnets and shawls ; the performance occa- 
 sioned a deal of laughter, but not understanding Ger- 
 man, we could not share in the mirth. Ice creams were 
 handed during the evening — of coarse they were for 
 sale, and each person laid his money on the waiter as he 
 took a glass. The play was concluded by 9 o'clock, rather 
 a more reasonable hour for separating than is usually ob- 
 served at such entertainments. 
 
 The ensuing day we were aroused from our morning 
 slumbers by the firing of cannon, toiling of bells and march- 
 ing of soldiers — it was the anniversary of the battle of 
 Leipsic, and we hurried to the square in front of the Rcemer, 
 
193 
 
 to witness its celebration. We counted eight regiments in 
 dashing uniforms ; the caps of one company were peculiar- 
 ly martial in appearance, being decorated with tremendous 
 tassels of horse hair, hanging forwards and a little to one 
 side over the forehead. The effect w^as quite improving. 
 A vast crowd assembled to see the parade and listen to the 
 lively music of the military bands. Senators in black oc- 
 cupied the arches of the Rcemer, which were festooned with 
 red cloth ; rich equipages (most of them drawn by coal black 
 horses) were filled with well-dressed ladies, but we beheld 
 no pretty faces among them. At 4 o'clock, three corps of 
 little boys and girls sung a hymn, and then the populace 
 rushed to the bridge and quay, where cannons were dis- 
 charged, while the church bells rang loud and merrily. One 
 gim sufficed our ears, and we hastened home, after refresh- 
 ing ourselves with cakes and lemonade at a confectioner's* 
 N. B. German cakes and bonbons are uncommonly nice and 
 tempting ; sugar is, fabricated into all sorts of pretty things^ 
 and di proportionate price demanded for them. 
 
 What smokers the Germans are ! Whether driving, or 
 riding, or walking, or sitting, within doors or without, they 
 are puffing a pipe, and frequently have a pouch of tobacco 
 tied to the button-hole of their coat; and always in their 
 pocket, they carry a box with materials for striking fire. 
 The shop windows of the town were filled with pipes ; 
 some of them at least a yard in length. After that tumul- 
 tuous day, we slept soundly, you may be sure, and were off 
 for Mayence by dawn the next morning. 
 
194 
 
 NUMBER V. 
 
 THE OLD CITY OF MAYENCE. 
 
 As we approached Mayencej or Mentz, for it is called 
 by both these names, the one being German, the other 
 French, a pleasing landscape opened upon our view, and a 
 crimson sky tinted everything ^' couleur de rose." This is 
 one of the strongest towns in Germany, and finely located 
 on the slope of a hill; at the confluence of the Mein and 
 the Rhine ; opposite, is the fortified town of Cassel, with 
 which it is connected by a bridge of boats, and beyond these 
 we remarked a row^ of wind-mills, on boats also. 
 
 At the custom-house, passports and luggage w^re in- 
 spected, but not strictly, nor w^ere we long kept waiting 
 during the examination ; yet hov/ provoking are such deten- 
 tions, however short ! especially to Americans accustomed 
 to range over their own vast continent ad lihituW', as we 
 say in music. 
 
 The weather continued clear and cold, and after an early 
 breakfast, next morning, we commenced our peregrinations; 
 as usual beginning W'ith the Cathedral, like all other cathe- 
 drals in Europe, a sombre and ancient looking pile. It was 
 built in the tenth century, but not completed till the eleventh, 
 when it was nearly destroyed by fire and again constructed. 
 Here we saw the tomb of Frauenlob, chief of the Trouba- 
 dours, (they told us,) a minstrel who devoted his strains to 
 the graces and virtues of the female sex, and thereby be- 
 came so great a favorite with the ladies of Mayence, (then 
 the chief resort of the Troubadors,) that on his death ih^-^ 
 insisted upon bearing his body to the grave ; where they 
 
195 
 
 bewailed his loss with sighs and tears, ana poured out such 
 plentiful libations of wine, in honor of him, that the 
 spacious floor of the church w^as w^ell nigh deluged. So 
 much for tradition. The tomb consists of two bas reliefs, 
 placed against the wall of the adjoining cloister ; one repre- 
 sents the funeral procession of the minstrel, and the other 
 his bust. An escutcheon, on the wall within the Cathe- 
 dral, denotes the resting-place of Fastrade, the wife of 
 Charlemagne, and beneath it is engraved a Latin inscription 
 concerning her. Over one of the altars is a huge picture 
 of Saint Martin, the patron Saint of the church ; he is on 
 horseback, and both man and charger are the full size of 
 life. 
 
 After viewing two or three other chuTches, of which I wilt 
 not speak; lest you be surfeited by such-like descriptions, we 
 w^alked to the Library ; but it w^as undergoing repairs and 
 could not be entered — this was quite a disappointment, as 
 it contains a fine collection of ancient medals, and numerous 
 specimens of the first essays in printing with moveable 
 types, w^hich we desired to see. The inventor of these, 
 Jean Goensfleisch de Sorgenloch, usually styled Gutenberg, 
 from the name of his habitation, (signifying good mountain,) 
 was a native and resident of Mayence; and we visited the 
 house in w^hich he resided. He was of noble birth, and a 
 sign bearing his coat-of-arms and an inscription, in gilt 
 letters, informs those passers-by, who can read and compre- 
 hend German; that said house was once his dwelling place. 
 His coat-of-arms is also marked on a projecting beam of 
 vrood in the chamber he occupied. He was assisted in his 
 plans by a w^ealthy goldsmith of the town, John Fust, or 
 Faust, who, in conjunction with Pierre Schoeffer, after- 
 
196 
 
 wards improved the types by forming them of metal in- 
 stead of wood. 
 
 Strasbourg, Harlem, and Mayence, are very jealous of 
 each other on the subject of printing, each claiming the 
 credit of its invention ; but this dispute, like that of the 
 seven cities concerning their title to Homer ^ remains, I be- 
 lieve, yet undetermined. 
 
 A building, designated as being the first printing establish- 
 ment, is still standing, and is termed '^ la cour zum Inngen/' 
 
 The next things of note that attracted us, were the 
 Hall of Antiquities, tjie Picture Gallery, and the Ducal 
 Palace. In the last is shewn the suite of apartments which 
 Napoleon Buonaparte occupied, during his sojourn in 
 Mayence. Our cicerone on the occasion, a respectable 
 German woman, who spoke English tolerably well, lavished 
 high praises on the French Emperor ; she said all loved 
 him who attended on him, he was so kind and generous ! 
 That his soldiers lived like princes, and that those who sup- 
 plied them were amply paid. ^' Ah!" she exclaimed, *^ times 
 are sadly changed since then ; what I gave to the poor, in 
 those days, I w^ould now be glad to get myself.'^ In fact, 
 wherever v>'e stopped, the very name of Napoleon, if men- 
 tioned, seemed to call forth, from the middling and lower 
 classes, enthusiasm and commendation. 
 
 In the Hall of Antiquities we saw many ancient votive 
 altars, and at least fifty large monumental stones, bearing 
 sculptured figures of Roman Knights. They were dis- 
 covered on an eminence in tlje vicinity of the town, (where 
 was onpe a Roman cemetery,) by Professor Lehne, a learned 
 gentleman ; said to be almost as devoted to antiquarian re- 
 searches and lore, as Sir Walter Scott's famous Mr. Old- 
 buck, alias Monkbarns ; and the neighbourhood of May- 
 
197 
 
 etice furnishes unlimited means of indulging his labors and 
 taste ; for the city is exceedingly old, being founded as 
 early as the 70th year of the Christian era, by Drusus 
 Germanicus, during the wars between the ancient Ger- 
 mans and Romans. In that stormy age he built a fortifi- 
 cation, called in Latin Mogontiacum, which was gradually 
 surrounded by other edifices till the number increased to a 
 town, eventually enlarged and called Mentz, or Mayence. 
 A second fort, erected by him on the opposite bank of the 
 Rhine, was in like manner the origin of Cassel. Mayence 
 was afterwards totally destroyed, but refounded by Charle- 
 magne. 
 
 All this is a digression — let us re-enter the Hall of An- 
 tiquities, to notice the plan of a noble bridge, which Na- 
 poleon intended to have had constructed over the Rhine. 
 It was to be of sufficient height to allow of vessels passing 
 under it, and would have cost thirty-six millions of francs. 
 
 Among the pictures in the Gallery of Painting, there 
 w^as a singular one entitled the Menagerie of Rubens; 
 in which his wife and child are represented, surrounded by 
 various sorts of birds and beasts. The human figures were 
 executed by himself^ the birds and quadrupeds by Francis 
 Snyders, the Flemish artist, so renowned for his skill in that 
 species of painting. He was a native of Antwerp, and 
 often worked in concert with Rubens. Much enjoyment 
 have I had in viewing both their joint and separate pro- 
 ductions, and those of other equally eminent limners ! 
 
 Poetry and music, ^tis true, are delightful, but I regard 
 painting as the most valuable art ; because it not only 
 brings before us scenes and places of beauty, grandeur, and 
 celebrity, which otherwise we would never behold, but en- 
 ables us to retain the forms and features of our beloved 
 
 p2 
 
198 
 
 friends when they are no longer with us. And what yields 
 more soul-thrilling, though melancholy pleasure^ than gazing 
 on the cherished lineaments of those w^e almost idolized, 
 when on earth, after they have been torn from us by the cold 
 and relentless grasp of death? For the same reason statuary, 
 or sculpture, ranks next to painting, in my preference ; but 
 the dead \vhiteness of the cold marble plays not upon the 
 heart and imagination with the force of the glowirig can- 
 vass ; nor, like it, for a moment charms us into the eva- 
 nescent belief of beholding the dear originals themselves. 
 
 But, again, a triice with digressions! and ^^ revenons a' 
 nos montons." 
 
 There are several most agreeable and enticing public 
 promenades at Mayence ; the two principal we visited — 
 these were the " Favorita'' and the " Gartenfeld ;" from 
 both you have a bewitching prospect. The ^^ Favorita'* 
 was once a fortification, and from its heights are seen the 
 towm, the sparkling river with its islets, the busy villages, 
 whirling wind-mills and bridge of boats, and the mouth of 
 the sluggish Mein, pouring its tributary waters into the 
 green and rapid Rhine. The '' Gartenfeld'^ (Gardenfield) 
 borders the latter, and is so arranged that it can be inun- 
 dated in time of w^ar. 
 
 One morning, with a little boy to guide us, we proceeded 
 to the tower of Drusus, in the vicinity of Mayence. This 
 is the remains of a monument erected in honor of him. It 
 is circular, and contains a spiral stair-case. The Germans 
 term it the Eichelstein, (Eagle's stone,) because it was for- 
 merly surmounted w^ith an eagle. ' 
 
 The weather being uncommonly fine, and the vintage go- 
 ing on, we were induced to extend our walk farther into 
 the countrv. anrl a merry scene we w^itnessed — there was a 
 
199 
 
 numerous band of peasants, singing loudly and cheerily as 
 they pursued their labours ; presently up came another set, 
 in procession, headed by a rosy-faced little fellow, a minia- 
 ture Bacchus, with a wreath on his head and a banner in 
 his hands, made of divers gay-colored ribbons and pieces of 
 cloth, which he wav.ed about with quite a triumphal and 
 martial air, accompanying every gesture with what he 
 meant for music ; but which sounded discordant and grating 
 to our ears, and we were glad when the train dispersed. 
 The vintagers were very generous in offering us grapes, of 
 which we partook plentifully, nor would they accept of any 
 remuneration. 
 
 And now, with your leave, I will close my details, this 
 evening, with an appropriate fiction^ which shall be called, 
 not " Alonzo,^^ but, 
 
 RODOLPH, THE BRAVE. 
 
 A peasant girl of Ezbach, a town of the Rhingan, where, 
 you know, the best wines of Germany are made, was re- 
 markable for her beauty; and from among the numerous 
 swains it had subjugated she selected, as her favorite, a 
 young vintager almost as handsome as herself, and promised 
 him that the hymenial knot should be tied as soon as the 
 grape-gathering was finished. In the meanwhile, the happy 
 pair daily plied together their pleasant tasks. 
 
 One morning, while thus employed, the Lord of the 
 Castle, who, after a long absence, had just returned to his 
 domains, came riding by on a tour of inspection. He had 
 left the bright-eyed, cherry-cheeked Frederica, an unat- 
 tractive child of nine years old — she now stood before him 
 a graceful, lovely girl, the pride of the village. He fell 
 desperately in love!— sent for her the next Sunday, to his 
 
200 
 
 dwelling, and proffered the astonished maiden his hand and 
 heart. She was no Jeanie Deans on the occasion; and 
 dazzled by his promises of gifts and pleasures, above all by 
 the splendors which adorned his stately halls, she listened 
 to the tempter, and abandoned her humble lover for the 
 wealthy Coimt. 
 
 In due time, and with due festivities, the nuptials were 
 <ielebrated ; and the bride, in her rich attire, looked more 
 beautiful than ever. But the paleness of her face, and the 
 trenmour and icy coldness of her hand, betrayed too plainly 
 the struggle, the agony of her bosom, where Love lay 
 bleeding beneath the selfish grasp of Ambition. 
 
 Rodolph could not witness the unhallowed bands. In 
 despair he quitted his birth-place, and fled to a distant land. 
 
 Frederica grew more and more unhappy. She was soon 
 surfeited with the luxuries for which she had sacrificed her- 
 self and her lover ; and a victim to the tormenting jealousy 
 and harshness of her lord, who, ungenerous and narrow- 
 minded, incessantly reproached her with her attachments to 
 Rodolph, (thereby exciting both her aversion and contempt,) 
 she pined away ; her beauty faded, her health and strength 
 departed ; and ere a second summer, after that fatal union, 
 had re-clad the vines with leaves and fruit, the grass grew 
 high and green around the tomb of poor Frederica ! 
 
 She left an infant, a few months old, and the babe was 
 lovely as the mother it resembled, and thrived and pros- 
 pered under the devoted care of its maternal grand parents. 
 Its reckless father, weary of his lonely hearth, had com- 
 mitted it to their charge, and again gone forth to seek en- 
 joyment on some foreign shore. Thence, in after years, the 
 tidings came that he was dead ; and behold, the little Ger- 
 trude a rich and beauteous heiress ! Hosts of lovers wor- 
 
201 
 
 ship at her shrine, but '^ favours to none, tho' smiles to a//, 
 she extends ;'^ until a warrior bold, with laurel- wreathed 
 brow, casts his trophies at her feet. His valor and his 
 manly beauty prove resistless, and she pledges him her 
 troth. 
 
 And loho is this " warrior bold" — this victorious cham- 
 pion in love and war ? 
 
 It is Rodolph, once termed the " Forsakm.^^ but now 
 the " Braver 
 
 With valiant heart he subdued his ill-requited passion and 
 wooed another bride, and Glory was her name ! He sought 
 and won her on the battle-field of Prague. 
 
 A gallant knight, guerdoned with well-earned honors, he 
 returns to his country — hears of the syren of Ezbach, 
 whose fascinations are enchaining every heart, and hastens 
 to his own cherished home to yield his homage too. 
 
 With amazement he recognizes, in the enchantress, the 
 daughter, the image, of his once adored and faithless 
 Frederica ! 
 
 " None but the brave deserve the fair'' — 
 
 So thought Gertrude, and the suit of Rodolph was not 
 rejected. Like C8esar,^^he came, he saw, he conquered.^' 
 They were married, and long and flourishing was the line 
 of their descendants ; and happily lived, to a green pld age, 
 the Count and Countess of Ezbach. 
 
202 
 
 NUMBER VI. 
 
 *'LA GRANGE" AND ITS INMATES. 
 
 It was a charming week that, which we spent at ^'La 
 Grange Bleneau/^ the turretted and ivy-mantled castle of 
 our venerated friend. General La Fayette, now no longer a 
 sojourner upon earth. Peace to his soul ! . . . Dur- 
 ing three days of that pleasant period, '^our sunshine lay 
 within/' as one of my favorite songs has it — for without^ 
 the rain came down in torrents, and the w^aters of the moat 
 looked troubled, the sky gloomy, and the surrounding trees 
 drooped under the storm. In short, a poetic dreamer might 
 have imagined that the spirits of the castle's lake were 
 busily employed in plotting mischief against the little boat 
 that was tossing on its surface, and the waving shrubbery 
 and vines in its vicinity. The interior of the castle exhibit- 
 ed a far different aspect, with its pictured walls, gay covered 
 sofas, chairs and window curtains ! — and then the cheerful 
 faces, and hearts brimful of mirth and kindness, that were 
 there ! Oh ! I well remember the merry set w^e formed. The 
 young folks waltzing and dancing quadrilles to the sound 
 of the piano, (there were no polkas in those days, at least 
 out of Hungary and Poland,) or playing at ^^ColinMaillard," 
 (in plain English, ^^blindman's buff,'') and their elders look- 
 ing on and enjoying th^ sight of their feats and graces, or 
 else engaged in animated discourse, or deep in the mysteries 
 of chess, and the chances of backgammon, ecarte, &c. 
 
 The family then assembled at La Grange consisted of 
 the General's only son and daughter-in-law. Monsieur and 
 Madame George W. La Fayette, (who did the honours of 
 
203 
 
 the castle,) and their three daughters, Natalie, Mathilde and' 
 Clementine ; their sons were absent. The General's two- 
 daughters, Madame Caroline de Maubourg and Madame 
 Virginie de Lasterie, both of whom shared his captivity at 
 Olmutz from choice, as did their mother^ who afterwards 
 died of an illness caused by the hardships and sufferings ex- 
 perienced during that horrible incarceration. Madame de 
 Lasterie had also three daughters, and Madame de Mau- 
 bourg two ; then there were young Julius de Lasterie, and 
 a half score of other young people, on a visit to him and his 
 sisters and cousins, it being a holiday season. Even now, 
 I can recall to mind each of that happy, lively crew. 
 
 Mathilde La Fayette, with her soft blue eyes and flow- 
 ing ringlets, and Octavie de Lasterie, with her hazel orbs' 
 and flaxen hair, (an unusual, but beautiful contrast I) I 
 thought the prettiest of the girls, though Clementine was,^ 
 perhaps, the most graceful and dignified in her appearance 
 and deportment, and, withal, had much sweetness of man- 
 ner. Besides our own immediate party, there w;ere several 
 other guests, and when collected together, we daily consti- 
 tuted a company of about thirty in number. 
 
 It was in this refined circle we first had the pleasure of 
 meeting, and becoming acquainted with, the beauteous 
 Countess de Lobespin and her father, the old Count de 
 Tracy, once a very literary character, but almost blind' 
 when we saw him. The distinguished writer of the "Prus- 
 sian Campaign," Count Philip de Segur, and the still 
 more celebrated Count Segur, the elder, his venerable parent, 
 were also there. We were charmed with the latter, and 
 afterwards partook of several pleasant dinner parties at his 
 residence in Paris, where we met many of the Literati of the 
 day ; his house being quite a rendezvous for the learned and 
 
I 204 
 
 talented. His entertainments were always simple and ex- 
 tremely agreeable ; sprightly conversation, anecdotes and 
 repartee abounded, and the hospitable old Count entered 
 into the spirit of the '' feast of reason and flow of soul," 
 (what a rare quotation I've selected !) with as much gusto 
 as the very brightest and most vivacious of his company. 
 
 But thus getting, in imagination^ into No. 13 Rue Du- 
 phot, (Count Segur'shabitation^) I have wandered far from 
 my original subject, "La Grange,'' and will now resume it, 
 it being to me too agreeable a theme to abandon so 
 quickly. After the gale I've described above, had subsided, 
 and the cheering sun-beams had sufficiently dried the walks 
 about the grounds, we strayed over the farm in every direc- 
 tion that fancy led us, having neither fences or walls to im- 
 pede our movements, as of such sorts of enclosures there 
 were none. 
 
 Everything bore the impress of good order, regularity 
 and method, for everything was watched over with vigi- 
 lence by the two masters of the domain^ the General and 
 his son. It being the month of September, clusters of 
 grapes hung in dewy freshness on their vines, and in our 
 itinerant rambles we never failed to do ample justice to their 
 lusciousness. Sometimes we amused ourselves in the mena- 
 gerie, (for a menagerie there was, and a considerable one 
 too !) watching the different ways of the birds and quad- 
 rupeds it contained. There was a variety of both from 
 foreign countries, and a couple of enormous bears from our 
 own native land. They were sent out by the late Mr. 
 Skinner, of Baltimore, the able editor of th(3 ^^Farmer's 
 Magazine." 
 
 These pedestrian excursions always immediately succeed- 
 ed breakfast, the hour for which was eleven o'clock ; previ- 
 
205 
 
 ous to this, each guest had coffee and a roll offered to him at 
 his chamber door, so that we were no sufferers from hun- 
 ger, and had ample time to perform our devotions and sun- 
 dry necessary pieces of work, ere summoned to mingle 
 with the world below at the festal board of the castle, 
 where every luxury was displayed in abundance ; such as 
 wines, fruits, conserves, cakes, meats, and bread in various 
 forms ; also, butter and cream, and excellent milk, fresh 
 from the extensive and well kept dairy. 
 
 On re-entering the house, after our pleasant promenades, 
 the ladies assembled for an hour or more in the parlour, 
 where some embroidered or sewed, others made music on 
 the piano, all talked, and all seemed to enjoy themselves. 
 As to the ^Hords of the creation^'* I entirely forget what 
 became of them until dinner ; the dear old General and Mr. 
 George W. La Fayette went out to inspect the labourers 
 on their farm, I suppose^ and others to hunt or shoot, or to 
 fish in the lake, perhaps, and some no doubt resorted to the 
 library, which was rich in valuable books, and had among 
 them a set of handsomely bound volumes of American Or- 
 nithology, that were executed in this country, and beauti- 
 fully printed and engraved. 
 
 We frequently varied our mode of exercise by a drive, 
 and one balmy morning visited a neighbouring village, in 
 whose sntiall parish church William Summerville, a Vir- 
 ginian, lies buried. I well remember seeing him in my 
 childhood, at my father's country seat, ^^the Hermitage," 
 (dear old Hermitage !) where he spent many a day. Mr. 
 Summerville was said to have been engaged to be married 
 to the lovely Miss Conyers, who perished in the flames of 
 the Richmond Theatre on the night of its awful conflagra- 
 tion, December 26, 1811. Others aver that she was be- 
 Q 
 
 \ 
 
206 
 
 trothed to the noble and gallant Gibbon, who, vainly try- 
 ing to rescue her from the burning ruins, shared her hapless 
 fate. 
 
 NUMBER VII. 
 
 THE INSTITUTION FOR THE DEAF AND DUMB, AKD 
 THE BLIND ASYLUM IN PARIS. 
 
 Not far from the little free-stone chapel which crowns 
 the summit of Mont Louis, in the cemetery of Pere La 
 Chaise, stands a small black marble sepulchre, bearing the 
 date of 1823, and the name of Sicard, spelt in the expres* 
 sive manual alphabet of the Deaf and Dumb. The letters 
 are formed by six hands, delineated in different positions, 
 after the manner of Egyptian hieroglyphics, and neatly: 
 carved on the front of the tomb. 
 
 It is an object of peculiar interest, and we paused before 
 it, not from curiosity alone, but from an innate feeling of 
 respect for the memory of him whose remains are enshrined 
 within — whose life and talents were so nobly, so energeti- 
 cally devoted to that work of wonder and benevolenccj the 
 education of the Deaf and Dumb ! 
 
 To the Abbe Roch Ambroise Cucurron Sicard, of Tous- 
 seret, near Bordeaux, and to his teacher and predecessor, 
 the Abbe Charles Michael de L^Epee, of Versailles, both 
 the gratitude and admiration of all philanthropists are due ; 
 but more especially the gratitude of such as have ties con- 
 necting them with that once helpless portion of our race • 
 for whose benefit the time and labors of these humane and 
 
207 
 
 distinguished men were applied with such blessed success. 
 They have passed from the earth ; but imperishable must 
 ever be the fame and fruits of their good works, their in- 
 genuity and exertions. To borrow the words of an inter- 
 esting tourist; ''' their names and praises shall live, when 
 the marble upon which they are engraved shall have 
 crumbled into dust/' 
 
 The Abbe de L^Epee possessed only a moderate income, 
 yet supported; at his own private expense, no less than 
 forty deaf and dumb children; and by his indefatigable in- 
 structions and patience; accomplished his design of render- 
 ing them susceptive of enjoyment w^ithin themselves and 
 useful members of society. He even communicated to them 
 the knowledge of various languages and sciences — some 
 became mathematicians and engineers, and others poets and 
 writers for literary works — all were taught a trade or pro- 
 fession. Such was his regard for his protegees, that^ w^hen 
 quite an old man, he has been known to deprive him- 
 self of a fire, during an entire winter, in order to supply 
 them liberally with that and other comforts. 
 
 Government at length rewarded his generosity and suc- 
 cessful efforts by its patronage, and erected a public insti- 
 tution, which was committed to his guidance and control.- 
 It is located in the Rue du Faubourg St. Jaques, towards 
 the southern extremity of Paris, and is certainly one of the 
 most interesting establishments in the city. 
 
 One morning in every w^eek it is thrown open for public 
 inspection ; and at the close of every month there is a pub- 
 lic examination of the pupils, to which admission may be 
 obtained by merely applying to the Director for tickets ; 
 and well worth while it is to do this, and go there to wit- 
 ness an interesting and touching scene, which will occupy 
 
208 
 
 only a few hours, and leave a pleasing and lasting impres- 
 sion on both mind and heart. 
 
 The number of pupils is limited to ninety, and their rapid 
 progress and attainments in different branches of knowledge, 
 their development of power and acuteness in metaphysical 
 reasoning — in short, their utter change from mental ob- 
 scurity to soul-cheering hght of intellect, inspire the visitor 
 with pleasure and amazement ; and almost induce the be- 
 lief that Providence, who always '^ tempers the wind to 
 the shorn lamb," has bestowed on this unfortunate class of 
 human beings, higher capacities than common, to compen- 
 sate, in some measure, for their deprivation of hearing and 
 speech. 
 
 After the death of the Abbe de L'Epee, which occurred 
 in 1789, his friend and assistant, the Abbe Sicard, con- 
 ducted the school with equal skill and credit — indeed, it- 
 seemed as if, like Elijah of old, his master had cast his 
 mantle upon him, and with it transmitted his ability and 
 zeal for the office he bequeathed to him. 
 
 To the original list of studies. Monsieur Sicard added 
 the accomplishments of drawing, painting and working in 
 mosaic, and had the gratification of sending forth, from his 
 seminary, many proficients in each; but death, the fell de- 
 stroyer of the good as well as the wicked, put an end to 
 the labors of this excellent man while in the prime of his 
 life and usefulness, and on the tenth of May, 1822, (a 
 gloomy day for the poor mutes !) he was laid upon his bier. 
 When we were in Paris, the Abbe Gawdelin occupied his 
 
 place at the head of the institution, and Madame had 
 
 charge of the girls ; for both male and female children are 
 admitted, a circumstance I have neglected to mention. 
 
 Those who can afford to pay, are charged for board and 
 
209 
 
 tuition, but the poor are received gratuitously ; none of the 
 latter, however, are suffered to enter without the testimony 
 of a surgeon to their being deaf and dumb, nor without the 
 most satisfactory proofs that their parents are unable to 
 provide for their support and education. 
 
 When these are obtained, the candidates are welcomed to 
 a comfortable hooie, there to reside Jive years and be fitted 
 to share in the pursuits of their fellow-creatures, and main- 
 tain themselves by that trade, or profession, they may 
 prove best calculated to acquire. Dr. Johnson calls their 
 education " a philosophical curiosity ^^^ and so it really is. 
 The idea of instructing them, and the method of doing so, 
 is said to have originated with a Benedictine Monk, about 
 the end of the sixteenth century — his name was Pedro de 
 Ponce. He educated two Castilian children^ of high birth, 
 who were mutes, and his success excited both w^onder and 
 applause. 
 
 After his time, several other Spaniards, and individuals in 
 different countries, applied themselves to the same benevo- 
 lent vocation, but their labors extended to a very few 
 pupils, and their system of teaching was very incomplete — 
 the happiness and honor of perfecting it were reserved for 
 the two eminent Frenchmen, of whom I have been speaking. 
 
 According to a computation, made some years ago by 
 the Academy of Science, in Paris, there were then, in Eu- 
 rope, more than eighty Institutions for the Deaf and Dumb, 
 and several in the United States of America. 
 
 To give you an idea of the unique and fanciful style in 
 which the mutes usually express their conceptions of any- 
 given subject, here are a series oi floivery definitions I have 
 written in imitation of it. Suppose them to be asked the 
 meaning of Gratitude, Fidelity, Ingratitude, Fear, Pride, 
 
210 
 
 Humility, Revenge, Modesty, Patience, Punctuality, and 
 Powerj they would probably answer somewhat as follows : 
 
 Gratitude — The incense and beauty with which the 
 flower repays the care and trouble of him who reared it. 
 
 Fidelity — The adherence of the ivy to the scathed 
 oak, or ruined tower. 
 
 The constant turning of the sun-flower to the sun — 
 
 *' As the sun-flower turns on her god when he sets, 
 The same look which she turned when he rose." 
 
 Moore. 
 
 Ingratitude — The thorns of the rose, piercing the 
 hand which nourished it. 
 
 Fear — The shrinking of the sensitive-plant from the 
 hand that would touch it. 
 
 Pride — The towering of the stately holly-hock above 
 more attractive and sweeter flowers of humbler growth. 
 
 Humility— The loioliness of the sweet and beauteous 
 violet. 
 
 Revenge — The stinging of the nettle, when disturbed. 
 
 Modesty — The retiring of the lily of the valley within 
 its leaves. 
 
 Patience — The prostration of the tulip during the 
 storm. 
 
 Punctuality — The opening and closing of the morn- 
 ing-glory. 
 
 Power — The exhalation from the upas-blossom, over- 
 coming all within its influence — The fragrance of the 
 ottar-gul. 
 
 Lord Byron, in a note to one of his poems, relates that 
 an eastern swain once broke a vial of this rich perfume (the 
 ottar-gul, or ottar of roses) under the nose of a duenna, 
 employed to keep guard over his lady-love, and that the old 
 
su 
 
 woman was so overwhelmed by its potency that she fainted 
 away; and thus he was enabled to enter the forbidden 
 sround, and obtain the interview he desired to have with 
 her fair charge. 
 
 But a truce with digressions ! Let me resume the thread 
 of ray reminiscences, and tell you of two other charitable 
 establishments of peculiar interest, situated in the same 
 quarter of Paris with that for the Deaf and Dumb ; these 
 are the ^' Hospital of the Quinze Vingts/^ and the " Royal 
 Institution for the Young Blind." The first was founded 
 by St. Louis in 1220, and is exclusively appropriated to the 
 indigent blind, who are there taught various mechanical 
 arts and trades, and soon learn to gain their own subsist- 
 ence instead of depending for it on the community. The 
 appellation of ^^ Quinze Vingts," (fifteen twenties,) is de- 
 rived from the number of paupers originally admitted, but 
 which has since been allowed to be considerably augmented. 
 
 The Hospital for the young blind is, as its name imports, 
 designated for the young alone, and like the institution for 
 the deaf and dumb, receives ninety pupils, including boys 
 and girls ; like that too, it affords the stranger an opportu- 
 nity of witnessing an interesting examination at the close 
 of every months and is open to the public several mornings 
 during the week. The course of instruction is also nearly 
 the same, and the method of teaching; though totally dif- 
 ferent, is equally ingenious. 
 
 The children are taught reading, cyphering and music 
 by means of cards and papers, stamped in a peculiar manner, 
 expressly for their use. The letters, figures and notes are 
 rendered palpable to the touch by being printed in relievo^ 
 that is, raised above the surface of the card, or paper, and 
 they learn them with facility and quickness by passing their 
 fingers to and fro upon the lines of the page. 
 
212 
 
 In writing, iron pens without slits are used. With these 
 they distinctly trace the letters upon soft, tough paper by 
 bearing very hard upon the pen. To keep their lines 
 straight, and their letters equi-distant, the paper is ar- 
 ranged in a very curious and ingenious machine contrived 
 for the purpose ; and as whatever is thus written, must 
 necessarily be read on the opposite side of the paper, they 
 preceed from right to left, like the Chinese in their gro- 
 tesque operations. 
 
 In printing^ they are furnished with little boxes, each 
 one containing a liberal supply of a different letter of the 
 alphabet, which they easily select and arrange by feeling. 
 When the types are set, a moistened sheet of paper, or 
 pasteboard, is laid upon them ; and by the operation of a 
 press, or the repeated strokes of a hammer, the desired 
 impressions are permanently made. One of the pupils 
 composed a comedy in verse, and printed it for his com- 
 panions to act;^ and they used often to perform it wilb great 
 zest and animation. Many of them evince considerable 
 genius and a decided talent for composition ; but this fact 
 will not surprise those who have read the biography of 
 Doctor Thomas Blacklock^ a Scotch clergyman and poet, 
 professor of divinity in the college of Aberdeen, and that 
 of Doctor Nicholas Saunderson, professor of mathematics 
 in Cambridge University, both of whom lost their eyes by 
 small pox while they were infants, and yet, in after life, 
 obtained such celebrity for their learning and acquirements. 
 Then there was Didymus of Alexandria, who flourished in 
 the fourth century, and was the preceptor of St. Jerome. 
 He became blind in childhood, yet was deeply versed in 
 every branch of science, and so conversant in eccle- 
 siastical history and controversial theology, that he was 
 
213 
 
 chosen to fill the chair of the Alexandrian school. He 
 was pronounced the most learned man of the age, and was 
 the author of numerous valuable works. 
 
 It is an established theory, I believe, based upon the 
 maxim of practice making perfect^ that by the loss of 
 the sight, the remaining senses are sharpened, being called 
 into exercise to supply its place. The touch, especially, 
 being most employed, becomes so exquisitely subtle that it 
 has been playfully remarked, that many of the blind, 
 although deprived of their eyes, can see with their fingers ; 
 and I have read of a sculptor who had not seen a ray of 
 light for ten years, yet carved two marble statues, with 
 correctness and skill, from memory, produced a good like- 
 ness of the persons he intended to represent. Be that as 
 it may, we were astonished at the extreme neatness and 
 delicacy of a variety of mechanical works executed by the 
 blind inmates of the institutions we visited ; even clock- 
 making was carried almost to perfection. 
 
 We were so fortunate as to call one morning when 
 a singing class was in full chorus, and thereby had the 
 benefit of quite a melodious concert, for they sung re- 
 markably well, and we noticed, among the female voices, 
 several which were full, clear and sweet. 
 
 The class kept excellent time, guided by the tapping 
 of a light wand upon a music desk in front of the leader, 
 who flourished it aloft with the many gesticulations usual 
 upon such squally occasions. We lingered nearly a half 
 an hour listening to his bevy of warblers, and amused too, 
 at his varied motions and emotions, if there chanced to 
 tingle upon his quickened ear the dismal sound, or sem- 
 blance, of a false note. 
 
 The memory of the blind is singularly retentive; so 
 
214 
 
 much so, that some have been known to recognize persons 
 whom they had not met for years, merely by the tone of 
 their voices. Their entire separation from outward scenes, 
 brightens and improves this faculty as well as their mental 
 perceptions. 
 
 The laughing philosopher, Democritus of Abdera, in 
 Thrace, is said to have voluntarily destroyed his bodily 
 sight, in order that his mental contemplation might be 
 uninterrupted by exterior objects. If he did^ I think he 
 proved himself more of a fool or madman than a sage, and 
 doubtless soon had cause to " laugh the ivrong side of his 
 moiith^^^ (as runs the old saying,) for making the silly 
 experiment. 
 
 To one no earthly evil or misfortune appears so great 
 and awful as total blindness! and I have been perfectly 
 amazed to hear some persons aver that they would choose 
 being in that state, in preference to being deaf and dumb, 
 if compelled to suffer one or the other of these stupendous 
 afflictions ! They adduce as a reason for this (to me) 
 strange choice, that the blind appear generally cheerful and 
 gay, and the mutes sad and morose. They should consider 
 that when one sees the blind in company, or with a com- 
 panion, it is beholding them under the most favorable 
 auspices. They may then be excited or enlivened by those 
 around them, and, for a while, thus made to forget their 
 misery, or at least to feel it less sensibly ; w^hereas, it is at 
 such periods that the mutes experience most ftdly the 
 unhappiness of their condition, so cruelly incapacitating 
 them for joining in the conversation and merriment of the 
 moment. The mute, 'tis true, can but seldom enjoy social 
 intercourse, and is dead to mortal voices and heavenly 
 sounds, all of which are free to the blind ; but then, the 
 
215 
 
 latter, poor wretch ! is shut out from God's most glorious 
 light ! and the view of all the beauties, the sublimities, the 
 wonders of nature ! 
 
 NO. VIII. 
 
 THREE QUEER VILLAGES AND OTHER THINGS IN 
 HOLLAND. 
 
 We were sojourning for a week in Amsterdam. The 
 season, the fall of the year, and the weather generally 
 cold and misty — but one morning when it was clear and 
 exhiliarating, we proposed an excursion to the country, 
 and after debating whither we should wend our way, 
 decided on visiting the villages of Berkeslow and Broeck, 
 and set out accordingly. 
 
 Crossing the water in a row boat and landing at the toll- 
 house, we thence proceeded on foot to Berkeslow^ The 
 houses which constitute this little village are painted df 
 divers colors — blue, red, pink, green, yellow, brown and 
 lilac ! and a few are painted black-r-thus varying from 
 one extreme to another, that is, from being of all colors, 
 becoming of no color at alL The general appearance of 
 the place reminded us of Burlington, in New Jersey. 
 
 We passed en route the grand canal of Holland, which 
 unites the river Wye with the Zuider Zee, and w^is cut for 
 the purpose of allowing vessels of the largest size to 
 reach Amsterdam without discharging a portion of their 
 cargoes, which they were formerly obliged to do, in order 
 to get over a bar. This canal is said to be the largest 
 in the world, and is indeed a stupendous work ! We 
 witnessed the passage of a vessel of considerable magni- 
 
216 
 
 tude, and were told that a short while previous, a man of 
 war, mounting 120 guns, had been carried through the 
 enormous locks with ease and safety. 
 
 At BerkesloWj we endeavored to procure a boat or a 
 carriage, to convey us to Broeck, but failed in each 
 attempt ; so nothing daunted, though much disappointed 
 and somewhat fatigued, w^e even determined to continue our 
 journey on foot rather than turn back, and a rough and a 
 tough time we had of it ! 
 
 Broeck is several miles from Amsterdam, but alas ! 
 for us, we made a mistake in the road and thereby 
 nearly doubled the distance. The path lay over an un- 
 finished causeway, composed of loose stones ; these hurt 
 our feet ; then the wind rose, and assailed our bonnets and 
 faces with the usual blustering rudeness of Old Boreas and 
 his attendant guests from the North sea. Yet on, on w^e 
 trudged, with a patience and perseverance quite equal to 
 those of the phlegmatic race through whose country we 
 were thus toiling. At length we attained the object of 
 our labors, and quickly discerned that it was well worth 
 the difficulties we had surmounted in getting to it. Such a 
 peculiar, such a queer kind of a town or village ! we never 
 had beheld in the course of our peregrinations, either in 
 Europe or America, and it is surprising that no description 
 of it has been given in any of the various narratives of 
 travellers through Holland which I have read. Indeed we 
 should not have known of its existence and proximity to 
 Amsterdam, but for the loquacity of our ^^maitre d' hotel,^^ 
 W^ho was what " Mrs. Malaprop ^^ would have designated 
 as a good natured and talkative " sort of a person.^^ 
 She told us, besides, of many other things deserving the 
 attention of " lookers on in Holland.'^ 
 
217 
 
 Broeck is remarkable (even in Holland, where every 
 place is 7ieat) for its perfect neatness and tranquility. No 
 drawing room could be more exquisitely clean than its 
 nicely paved alleys, for I cannot term them streets, they 
 are so very, very narrow ! They are not more than four 
 or five feet wide, I should think, with the exception of the 
 main street, which is tolerably spacious, and like the 
 others, paved with glazed and shining tiles, daily sprinkled 
 with sand — probably for two purposes, to prevent one from 
 slipping, and for the sake of tidiness. Not a vehicle of 
 any kind is suffered to be brought into the town, nor 
 an animal permitted to enter it, unless some of the feathered 
 tribe may chance to alight there in the course of an serial 
 excursion. 
 
 In one of the streets, we observed a small flock of 
 crows, pecking about quite as much at their ease as if in 
 a wilderness, nor did they evince the least fear or concern 
 at our passing very near them ; yet they w^ere not domesti- 
 cated, and had alighted merely for a short time, for in less 
 than half an hour they were again on the wing towards 
 some other spot. 
 
 The houses of Broeck, like the houses of Berkeslow, 
 are of many colors, and each one has a certain door next 
 the street, which is never opened, except on the occurrence 
 of a w^edding or a funeral in the family. At all other 
 times the entrance is through the back doors of the 
 dwellings ; and by these may be seen, whenever there 
 has been a fall of rain or snow, a pair or pairs of wooden 
 slippers, intended for the use of all comers, who, to avoid 
 soiling the floors within, put off* their wet shoes and leave 
 them without, and in place of them, wear the sabots. 
 They are never in much demand, for there is little sociabi - 
 
818 
 
 ity or visiting among the people of the place. We were 
 told that they rarely left their homes, even in fine weather ; 
 and in our ramble through the village, we did not en- 
 counter moie than ten or twelve persons. Near the centre 
 of the town was a pretty lake, upon the borders of which, 
 several storks were feeding. These birds are held in 
 veneration in Holland, as well as in Germany ; it is 
 deemed sacrilegious to kill them, and considered a fa- 
 vorable omen by the supersitious, if they take up their 
 quarters in the chimney, or on the roof of a house. One 
 cause of their being so valued and preserved is, that they 
 destroy venomous insects and reptiles, and the eggs of 
 serpents. Their usual resort is the stable yard. 
 
 We visited a beautiful garden, the property of a wealthy 
 ^^ Mynheer," named Bakker. Besides flowers and shrubs, 
 trees and rivulets, statues and miniature bridges, a pigeon 
 and summer house, a la Chhioise^ and a green house 
 teeming with geraniums in full blossom, it contained a 
 rustic cottage, which was quite a curiosity^ not merely 
 from its completeness w^ithoiit, but for its contents. It 
 w^as a picturesque thing, with a low, thatched roof, and a 
 single apartment, furnished in the usual style of such 
 dvvellings. Iti it, three automatons, or wooden figures, 
 were seated on rush bottom chairs — an old woman with a 
 spinning wheel before her, an old man holding a reel, and a 
 sportsman with a gun. Each was painted, dressed and 
 arrayed so naturally, and was so life-like in appearance, 
 that on seeing them unexpectedly, we involuntarily started, 
 and believed for a moment, that we had intruded upon the 
 domestic privacy of a living group. Scarcely had we reco- 
 vered from this surprise, when another was given us — whilst 
 we were busily examining the automatons, our cicerone. 
 
319 
 
 who was the gardener of the earthly paradise we had been 
 perambulating, slipped unperceived by us into a closet 
 in the rear of the cottage, and put in motion a small 
 wheel connected with the wooden figures by a spring 
 ingeniously contrived and concealed. No sooner was this 
 spring touched, than the old crone began to spin with all 
 her might, and the old man, with equal energy, to wind his 
 reel, and pufF smoke from a pipe he held in his mouth. 
 Where the smoke came from, and how it was produced, 
 Heaven knows ! — we did not discover — but cheerily it 
 curled away. The sportsman was the only inactive one 
 of the company ; perhaps he was too tired after a hunting- 
 excursion to move — for as we found him, so w^e left him — 
 listlessly resting upon his gun. Around the cottage was a 
 bright array of pewter plates and dishes, and some copper 
 kettles and pans. You could almost see your face in their 
 polished sides anci surfaces ; and the shelves upon w^hich 
 they stood were as clean and white as deal boards could be 
 scoured. By the bye, I have omitted, in speaking of the 
 automatons above, to mention the most ingenious and 
 wonderful thing in their construction, viz : that their heads 
 and eyes moved, and it was really diverting to observe 
 their motions and glances. 
 
 On the way back to Amsterdam, we stopped at several 
 farm houses, to see the arrangement of the cow stables, 
 which had been represented as remarkably neat and clean, 
 and verily there was no exaggeration in the account. A 
 description of one may suffice for all, as they were very 
 similar in every respect : a long low building was divided 
 on one side into fifteen or twenty stalls, in each stall was 
 an open window, above a trough filled with hay or other 
 food. Each cow was haltered and fastened to a post, and 
 
220 
 
 so thoroughly curried and rubbed, that her skin was sleek 
 and shining ; and we remarked, that with few exceptions, 
 all the cows we saw were black and spotted with white. 
 When the cold is severe, a woolen cover is girted on, to 
 keep them warm. The fxoors of the stalls were planked, 
 and there were pipes for conveying the water and cleansing 
 them several times a day. On the side of the building 
 opposite the stalls, was a range of doors communicating with 
 the various apartments of the family, and with the dairy, 
 than which nothing could be more complete. Its capacious 
 basins of cream and milk, and pots of golden-hued butter, 
 were tempting to behold ! The main passage of the 
 house, and I believe the only one, was this space between 
 the stalls and doors described, but it was not in the least 
 disagreeable — such perfect cleanliness and order prevailed 
 throughout the whole establishment. 
 
 On these farms large quantities of excellent butter and 
 cheese are made, the sale of which contributes mainly to 
 the support of their thrifty owners. 
 
 Much to our comfort and satisfaction, we succeeded in 
 obtaining a boat, after leaving Broeck. This was pulled 
 along by a man upon the shore, and as it glided upon the 
 surface of the canal, we were quite astonished at the 
 immense numbers of wild geese, which clamored above 
 and sometimes even fluttered around us. We WTre 
 also struck with the grotesque costume of the country 
 women who passed us. Some of them wore full plaited 
 chintz petticoats and short gowns with tight sleeves, 
 round and flat crowned caps, with stiff fluted borders 
 to garnish the face, but not so much over it as to conceal 
 a large and heavy pair of gold earrings. Several, who 
 seemed of a higher grade than the ordinary class, had 
 
221 
 
 their foreheads decorated with gold or gilt bandeaus, set 
 with brilliant stones, and secured to their caps by a clasp 
 on each side of the head. The women of Holland, like 
 those of Germany, (I allude to the lower classes,) are 
 great drudges. We met one driving a cart loaded with 
 cheeses, and two others toiling ^vith a wheelbarrow quite 
 overstocked with vegetables of divers kinds ; one pushed it 
 along, while her companion dragged it by a rope attached 
 to the back of it ; but it seemed very hard work, and they 
 made slow progress. 
 
 We reached Amsterdam at sun-set, and, on approaching 
 the town, a sound of music, as it were from the clouds, 
 saluted our ears ; the clocks were chiming a tune, as all the 
 clocks of Holland do, before they strike the hour. On the 
 way to our lodgings we saw two men clad in deep mourn- 
 ing surtout-coats, with streamers of black cloth, bound 
 with black satin ribbon, fastened to their backs ; they wore 
 cocked hats with flowing crape bands, and their shoes were 
 adorned with enormous silver buckles; their appearance 
 was so strange that we could not help enquiring of a pas- 
 senger in the street, what was their vocation, and were in- 
 formed they were bearers of funeral invitations. A few 
 days afterwards we had an opportunity of witnessing a 
 funeral, and a heartless scene it was ! Four men thus 
 equiped, '' in mockery of wo," one might truly say, walked 
 after the hearse, in company with eight others in mourning ; 
 but no sooner was the coffin deposited in the grave, than all 
 of them jumped into the hearse and rode off as rapidly and 
 merrily as if on a party of pleasure. The remaining per- 
 sons, who formed the procession, quitted the cemetery with 
 almost as much levity ; there were only a few females 
 present, and they, like myself, stood aloof, and were merely 
 
 R 
 
222 
 
 spectators. The coffin and hearse were peculiarly shaped 
 and decorated ; the first was perfectly flat on the top, and 
 widened gradually from the foot to the head. There were 
 three coffins in [one grave, placed one above another ! A 
 by-stander told us, that after a certain period, allowed for 
 the decomposition of the body, the bones of the dead were 
 taken up from the earth and deposited in a room over a 
 church ; and when that was full, the bones were removed 
 to a ship, kept for the purpose, and carried out to sea! 
 The hearse resembled a flat-sided narrow coach ; it was 
 surmounted with a ghastly escutcheon, consisting of a 
 sculptured death's head and cross-bones, entwined with 
 laurel leaves ; over the door, behind, was a large hour- 
 glass, between a pair of death's wings. The driver was 
 clad in black, and wore, what seemed to me, the usual badge 
 of menial public office in Holland, a cocked-haf. The 
 horses were black, and covered with palls that almost 
 touched the ground. 
 
 Our next aquatic excursion, from Amsterdam, was to the 
 village of Saardam^ famed for wship-building and wind-mills, 
 of which a goodly number were whirling away as briskly, 
 when we arrived, as in the days of the pilgrimage and pere- 
 grinations of the knight of La Mancha and his pursy squire. 
 
 The weather was cold and misty, but we were snugly 
 wafted on a small steamer, that plied daily between Amster- 
 dam and the little haven we sought. The inhabitants of Saar- 
 dam are said to have boasted, that if given only two 
 months notice, they could build a ship for every week in the 
 year — fifty-two ships in twelve months ! What a task ! ! 
 But it was neither their ships nor their wind-mills that al- 
 lured us to their village, but a sionple rude hut, a venerable 
 relic of departed greatness — in plainer terms, it was the 
 
223 
 
 hut in which the Czar of Russia, Peter the Great, resided; 
 during two years, for the purpose of studying and practising 
 the art of ship-building ; to w'hich he w^as prompted by his 
 unquenchable thirst for universal knowledge. Here in dis- 
 guise, and under the assumed name of Michaelhoff, he 
 sedulously labored, w-ith common w^orkmen, until he had 
 acquired the information and skill he desired to possess. I 
 am no friend to despots, however dazzling and fascinating 
 their mental qualities and attainments may be ; and my re- 
 collection of some occurrences and traits, mentioned in the 
 annals of the renowned Czar, as I stood within his lowly 
 habitation, were not by any means of a pleasing nature. 
 I thought of his furious and ungovernable fits of passion — 
 the cruel punishments he caused to be inflicted, and some^ 
 times even arssisted at personally ! — of his unkind treat- 
 ment and unjust repudiation of his first wife, Eudocia 
 Feodoreuna — his indifference and harshness to their only 
 son, the unfortunate Alexis Petrowitch, w^ho, though a man 
 of intemperate and vicious habits, was still his child, and, 
 perhaps, had acquired those very habits in consequence of 
 his father's shameful neglect of his education ; but, above 
 all, I thought of the dark deep stain, impressed upon the 
 Czar's character, by the suspicious and mysterious death of 
 that same ill-fated son, and my admiration of the abilities 
 and brilUant achievements of the Emperor was almost lost 
 in the remembrance of his brutality and tyranical sway. 
 
 A lofty shed, covered with flaming red tiles and resting 
 upon open arches, is erected over the hut, to shield it from 
 storm and sun. Within are two small rooms; that on the 
 left hand was the Czar's work-shop ; that on the right, 
 through which you enter, was his chamber, and, they assure 
 you, contains the identical articles of furniture he used, viz: 
 
224 
 
 three triangular chairs, painted ash-colour ; a long oaken 
 table and a cupboard. In the closet is shewn a very 
 broad, low shelf, upon which he laid his bed. The hearth 
 and chimney were extremely w^ide, the former paved with 
 immense square bricks, and each side of the fire-place was 
 covered with glazed white tiles, adorned with pictures, 
 done in brown, such as I have often seen in old-fashioned 
 houses in New-York. Over the mantelpiece were two in- 
 scriptions, upon marble slabs, inserted into the wall. Upon 
 one were engraved the names of ^' Peter Magno,^' ^'Alex- 
 ander,^' — and we were told that the Emperor Alexander 
 put it there, with his own hands, after the battle of Water- 
 loo ; but it is not probable that he took that trouble, when 
 masons were so near and numerous. The second inscrip- 
 tion was placed there by order of government, and was very 
 long. In 1825, an inundation overspread the floor of the 
 hut to the depth of several feet, but subsided without doing 
 any injury. 
 
 Before leaving Saardam, we visited a collection of land- 
 scapes, figures, birds, flowers and animals, cut out of white 
 paper, and so inimitably executed, that they resemble 
 beautiful reliefs in marble ; and in a neighbouring church, 
 we saw a curious picture, representing a ferocious bull 
 v/hich had killed a man and a woman. The picture hung 
 over I heir tombs. 
 
 In the same church was a singular pulpit, supported by 
 a pelican, feeding its young with the blood from its breast ; 
 meant, I suppose, to be emblematical of the blood of the 
 Redeemer^ shed for us. 
 
 We returned to Amsterdam in rain and snow, both fallino- 
 at the same time; thus ended our day's adventures, and 
 thus ends my narration for the present. 
 
225 
 
 NUMBER IX. 
 
 A SOJOURN AT GHENT. 
 
 * * * ^ * No; my promise is not forgotten, and 
 if you will rest with me under the shade of this wide- 
 spreading tree, which brings to mind the famous elm at 
 Worms, I will comply with your desire, and continue my 
 reminiscences, happy to know that they afford you amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 We were, last evening, admiring a fine engraving of 
 Ghent, and now I will tell you about some remarkable 
 things we saw there. We remained only a few days, but 
 they were rendered very agreeable by the kindness and 
 hospitality of the Duke and Dutchess of Saxweimar, who 
 reside in the city, he being commandant of it. 
 
 You may remember our becoming acquainted with him 
 at Albany and Lebanon, in the state of New- York, where 
 he joined our party in an excursion to the Shaker village — 
 his afterwards visiting us here in Richmond, and being, that 
 same summer, one of our fellow-passengers in the voyage 
 to Liverpool? Well, when he met us accidentally, two 
 years afterwards, in a church at Ghent, he greeted us most 
 cordially, introduced us to his family and entertained us 
 most hospitably at his palace; where we dined in company 
 with several intelligent and distinguished foreigners, like 
 ourselves, invited guests. 
 
 The Duke, as you know him personally, it is needless to 
 describe to you, farther than, that he was as gay and agreeable 
 at home as we found him abroad, and quite as humorous and 
 full of anecdote. The Dutchess, who is sister to the present 
 
226 
 
 Queen Dowager of England, was a tall, dignified, gentle- 
 mannered woman, as quiet as his Grace was lively. In the 
 evening their three carriages w^ere drawn up in front of the 
 palace, to convey those, who choose to go, to the theatre, 
 to hear Madame Mondonville sing. She was there con- 
 sidered a great vocalist; but we did not think her comparable 
 to Mademoiselle Sontag, whom we had heard, a few months 
 previous, in Paris. Guillon, and his pupil Dorus. accon:- 
 panied her on the flute. 
 
 The theatre of Ghent is neither large nor handsome, 
 but we W'Cre struck with the peculiar appropriateness 
 of the decoration of the first and second tier of boxes. 
 On the pannels of the first, the best scenes, from the 
 chief w^orks of various Dramatists, were painted ; and 
 above these, on the pannels of the second tier, busts, painted 
 in relief, represented the authors themselves. 
 
 Now, all this is but a preamble — the things I am to de- 
 scribe to you, as being remarkable, are as follows: . . 
 
 . and, as chief, I will begin with the Beguinage, an 
 establishment of religious females; whose number, at the 
 period of our visit, amounted to seven hundred. They re- 
 sided in a collection of small houses, built wnthin the same 
 enclosure, and dedicated to different Saints, the name of 
 each Saint being inscribed, in large letters, on each front 
 door. In the midst of this little town (so one may call it) 
 stands the church ; this bears the name of Saint Elizabeth, 
 who is considered the Patroness of the Beguines, as the 
 members of this extraordinary sisterhood are termed. Nuifs, 
 they cannot be styled, for they take no vows, and are at 
 liberty to return to the world, and society, whenever they 
 choose, and even to marry ! 
 
 Only single women are ever received as members, and none 
 
227 
 
 need apply who cannot pay a stipulated sum, and produce 
 a certificate of her respectibility and worthiness. Each 
 lives upon her own resources, and if unable to hire a ser- 
 vant, must cook and w^ash for herself There were, gene- 
 rally, three or four residing in the same dwelling ; some, 
 however, who w^ere more fortunate in possessing a larger 
 portion of this world's goods, kept their own domicil. The 
 sisterhood is divided into companies, and every company is 
 under the charge of a directress, and a superior reigns over 
 alL They had a flourishing school for poor children — 
 taught them to read and make lace, and the work w^as sold 
 for the benefit of the little pupils and their parents. Some 
 of the children w^ere not more than six years old, and it 
 was quite astonishing to witness their dexterity and rapidity, 
 in moving the pins and w^eaving the meshes of the lace. 
 
 At night we w^ent to see the Beguines at vespers, and a 
 solemn vsight it was. They were clad in long w^hite veils ; 
 and in the dim light of their cathedral, which was furnished 
 with only a few scattered lamps, they resembled kneeling 
 spectres. For a considerable time the effect was kept up, 
 by their remaining perfectly motionless. They were a 
 cheerful, lively set, in the morning, while engaged at their 
 various employments ; but in the evening, a more demure 
 and sanctified collection of faces you never beheld I 
 
 This gave me a favorable opinion of them, for I like to 
 see christians gay and cheerful at all times, unless they are 
 under the rod of affliction ; and while at their devotions, in 
 public or private, when they cannot be too serious and 
 contemplative. 
 
 The next remarkable thing I remember seeing, was the 
 funeral of a youth of fifteen, who was a pupil in the Royal 
 College of Ghent, and w^as so much beloved by his com- 
 
228 
 
 panions that they would not suffer his corpse to be carried 
 in a hearse, but bore it to the ^rave on their shoulders while 
 the hearse followed empty. They wore black crape bands 
 on their arms, and were preceded by a boy decorated with 
 a broad orange coloured ribbon, from which was suspended 
 several medals, which the deceased had gained in contests 
 for literary honors. The coffin was covered with a white 
 silk pall, richly embroidered, andon the top of that stood 
 a basket, made of silver bullion, and filled with artifical 
 flowers. 
 
 We loitered on the pavement till the mournful procession 
 had passed, and was lost to our view in turning the corner 
 of a street. A previous engagement prevented our wit- 
 nessing the ceremony of consigning the body to the tomb, 
 ■which w^e regretted, as it would have been an interesting 
 as w^ell as solemn scene ; and you know my predilection for 
 whatever kindles deep and sacred feelings. 
 
 In the course of our rambles, next morning, we entered 
 the Town Hall ; and there, collected in a spacious room, we 
 saw more than a dozen babies, in the arms of as many nurses. 
 On asking the cause of this marvellous infantine assem- 
 blage, we were informed the children were brought there 
 to be baptised ; that the laws of the country enacted, that 
 as soon as a child was born, the father, accompanied by two 
 witnesses, should go to the chief magistrate and give him 
 notice of the birth and sex of the child, (which are imme- 
 diately recorded,) and that afterwards, when old enough, it 
 w^as usually taken to the same place to be christened. 
 
 Near this room was another, called the '' Hall of Mar- 
 riage,^^ in which the votaries of Hymen were united, for 
 better or for worse, by the civil magistrate. I can't say 
 anything in favor of either of these customs. I think 
 
229 
 
 baptism and marriage are rites too sacred and solemn, 
 to be performed by any other than a minister of religion. 
 
 By the bye, talking of children^ reminds me that we saw 
 a tomb in the church of St. Nicholas, at Ghent, which was 
 erected over a man and his wife, who had thirty-one! and 
 lost them all in a month 1 1 So said the inscription upon 
 the stone. I do not believe it ! 
 
 In the cathedral^ we were astonished at the singularity of 
 design, and the beautiful carving of the pulpit. It was of 
 wood, richly sculptured, and ornamented with marble has 
 reliefs. The top or ceiling was supported by the branches 
 of two trees, filled with leaves and golden apples, one of 
 which a serpent (alias his Satanic Majesty in that shape) 
 held in his mouth, while his scaly length entwined the 
 trunk of the tree. At the foot of the steps, leading up to 
 the pulpit, stood two angels, the size of life, and made of 
 white marble, pointing to the reptile. Under the pulpit 
 (which was of antique form, and rested on a stand or stem) 
 were the figures of Time and Truth ; the latter grasped 
 an open book. A curtain, admirably carved and of wood, 
 enveloped the top of the pulpit, and was raised in front by 
 two little angels — also of while marble — bearing a golden 
 cross. 
 
 The baptismal font was almost as singular as the pulpit, 
 and consisted of an azure and star spangled globe, resting 
 on angels amid clouds of white marble. The cover was 
 decorated with a silver cloud, a golden cross and serpent. 
 It was said to be the identical font that was used at the 
 christening of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, who you 
 know was born in the city. 
 
 We descended into the subterranean portion of the ^ 
 cathedral, to see the tomb of the last Bishop of Ghent. 
 
230 
 
 It was composed of a material called ^^ pierre de tcuclie/' 
 (touch stone) by which the purity of gold was tested ; if 
 unadulterated^ it left a mark. I entirely forget whether 
 we experimented on the occasion ; I rather think w did, 
 although, at this distant period of time, I cannot determine ; 
 but one thing is sure, the result has made no impression on 
 our minds if the go\A did upon the stone. 
 
 The cathedral is rich in marble columns, monuments, 
 statues and paintings. Among the pictures is the ^^ paschal 
 lamb/^ by Van Eyck, sometimes styled *^ John of Bruges/' 
 whence he came. He is reputed to be the inventor of the 
 art of mixing colors with oil. 
 
 We visited a convent of the order of " La Visitation," 
 where bobinet was embroidered. It was done by poor 
 orphans whom the nuns took under their protection until 
 twenty-four years of age, when, having by that time learnt 
 the trade, they were sent forth into the world to support 
 themselves, by their own skill and industry. 
 
 We saw them busily plying their needles, and observed, 
 with surprise, that the most intricate and difficult patterns 
 were imitated without paper or marks to assist them ; the 
 meshes served as guides. We were desirous to have 
 witnessed the manufacturing of lace, but had encountered 
 such delay and trouble ere we obtained admission to the 
 bobinet establishment, that we resolved not to attempt an 
 inspection of a lace one. The Abbess was old, morose, 
 and so disobliging, that she would not have let us in, had it 
 not been for an order from the Vicar General, an aged and 
 affable priest, who treated us with much suavity and 
 kindness ; we also found ^^ sister Anne," a young nun 
 who went about with us as cicerone, very amiable and 
 communicative ; she was very lively too, and carried us 
 
231 
 
 into a parlour to shew us some pictures and a piano : 
 ^' Here, she said, we amuse ourselves with dancing quadrilles 
 every evening, and the novices play the part of genthnien.^^ 
 On expressing my amazement that dancing, generally one 
 of the hug-hears of religious communities, should be 
 allowed in the convent, she replied that they there con- 
 sidered it not only an innocent, but a rational amusement, 
 and a great contributor to health : '^ If we were to mingle 
 with the world, and spend money and time in dressing 
 up ourselves for the sake of dancing, we should view it 
 very differently ; but here there is no such desire or induce- 
 ment, and we dance merely for the pleasure of the music 
 and the benefit of the exercise." A sage process of 
 reasoning ! thought I, and we came away well pleased 
 with " sister Anne " and her argument. 
 
 In the commencement of our conversation, beneath this 
 '•' lord of the forest," I alluded to the great elm at Worms, 
 which it somewhat resembles; and before leaving our 
 umbrageous retreat I will mention a tradition concerning it, 
 that is firmly believed by the people of its neighborhood, 
 in fact by most of the ermans ; it is rather iiicredihle, I 
 confess, but you shall hear it nevertheless : it is said to 
 have been planted by the Reformer himself, during the 
 sitting of the Diet at Worms in 1521, when he appeared 
 before Charles the Fifth; and so eloquently disputed with 
 the Pope's nuncio, on the subject of the new faith, then 
 just shedding a glimmering light over the Christianized 
 world. 
 
 One morning Luther was warmly maintaining the truth of 
 his doctrine, while accompanying some members to the Diet : 
 As they walked along, he, twirling round a small switch he 
 had picked up, suddenly stopped, and thrusting it into 
 
232 
 
 the ground^ exclaimed \Yith great fervour : *• If this twig 
 should live and grow, then is my doctrine sound and true ; 
 if it should perishj then am I deceived and in error, and I 
 solemnly invoke the aid of Heaven thus to prove, whether 
 my faith be right or wrong V^ 
 
 The next day, on passing the same spot, lo ! the little 
 branch had taken root and budded ! ! Such a miracle, you 
 may suppose, soon converted many persons to the Lutheran 
 belief. 
 
 And, now, let us wend our w^ay homewards, for a storm 
 seems brooding in the sky, and my reminiscences have 
 come to a close for the present ; some future time, perhaps, 
 I may resume them. 
 
CYPRESS LEAVES. 
 
 ** Dark tree I still sad, when others' grief is fled !'' 
 
 BYRoy. 
 
 A SKETCH FROM NATURE. 
 
 Near Richmond, Virginia, on the banks of James River, 
 that great and rapid artery of the "Old Dominion,'^ stands 
 Powhatan, a beautiful time-honored mansion, the hereditary 
 seat of the Mayo family. The spot is peculiarly interest- 
 ing, as being the site once occupied by the Indian chief 
 whose name it bears, and the abode of his gentle daughter, 
 Pocahontas. 
 
 Traditionary lore informs us, (and who would wish to 
 doubt ?) that it was the scene of her romantic attachment, 
 and interposition for her ungrateful lover, Captain 
 Smith. The very stone upon which his head was laid for 
 decapitation, when, like a guardian spirit, she appeared and 
 rescued him from the death-blow, is pointed out in the gar- 
 den, while a more massive rock in the house yard is desig- 
 nated as the simple and unlettered sepulchre of her relent- 
 ing father. 
 
 Around this rock a few young cedars are planted, and on 
 its smooth grey surface, the impressions of two feet may be 
 traced ; faint indeed, but still there they are, evidently the 
 print of a child's and a man's foot ; when, hoio, or by whom 
 engraven, none living can tell. On a neighbouring height^ 
 o'er towering the river, is the Mayo Cemetery, where ven- 
 
234 
 
 erable cedars, and other trees of yore, shelter some antique 
 granite tombs and several white marble monuments of mo- 
 dern date, which, though less interesting to a disciple of 
 ^'Monk Barns,'' are more precious to individuals of the pre- 
 sent generation. Besides these sacred memorials, there are 
 many stoneless, turfy hillocks, whose long grass, waving in 
 the summer gale, w^hispers to the heart the names — the 
 unchiselled, yet unforgotten, cherished names — of dear ones 
 reposing below. 
 
 'Tis a sweet and tranquilizing spot; and often at the 
 close of day, my fancy loiters over its beauties and melan- 
 cholly attractions, for within its solemn precincts lie buried 
 my own Dead ! Thus sadly musing one evening, busy 
 thoughts w^ove themselves into the following stanzas : 
 
 In twilight's musing, mystic lionr, 
 
 Visions of the past come o'er me, 
 And Mem'ry, with her thrilhng power, 
 
 Brings the loved and lost before me. 
 
 Those who now in graves lie sleeping, 
 Near Powhatan's* fast flowing tide, 
 
 Aronnd whose death-conch we stood weeping* 
 When they loolz'd farewell ! and died ! 
 
 Oh ! w^hose tombs the light is gleaming 
 Through each tall dark cedar's crest, 
 
 And the slanting sun-rays streaming 
 Athwart their mournful place of rest. 
 
 In the dim hour the}^ appear ! 
 
 I trace their features ! hear them speak! 
 'Tis but a dream — they are not here — 
 
 And tears bedew my burning cheek. 
 
 '" The Indian appelktion and ancient name oi James' River. 
 
235 
 
 From Earth tliey are forever gone ! 
 
 Forever from our home-land riven ! 
 They left us lonely — one by one — 
 
 Called to a brighter home in Heaven. 
 
 Death, ruthless, broke the cords of love, 
 Which sweetly bound our hearts together; 
 
 Removed the idols of our grove, 
 
 And doomed the flowers of Hope to wither. 
 
 Some left us in their strength and bloom — 
 O'er their young forms the dirge we sung ; 
 
 Grief-struck, we bore them to the tomb. 
 And laid them there, our sires among. 
 
 And some departed ripe in years, 
 Whose annals, like a moral page, 
 
 Instruct us to resist Earth's snares. 
 And emulate a virtuous age. 
 
 Be not the precious record slighted. 
 But studied as the ev'ning star. 
 
 When to the 'wilder'd and benighted 
 It shines a guide to homes afar. 
 
 Then will it prove to us a mine 
 
 Of golden thoughts and precepts pure ; 
 
 Teach us to sue for faith divine. 
 Life's bitter trials to endure. 
 
 Lead us to seek God's holy fane — 
 
 To kindle, at his altar there, 
 Devotion's sacred, Heaven-born flame, 
 
 The life-breath of the Christian's prayer. 
 
 The flame which lights our way to bliss. 
 And constant burns in densest gloom, 
 
 Infuses strength the rod to kiss^ 
 
 And makes each thorn a flow'ret bloom. 
 
 Thus our Loved of the *' spirit land'' 
 Still shall speak, from their blest abode, 
 
 To the wand'ring, weary pilgrim band. 
 Toiling yet through Earth's rough road. 
 
236 
 
 OBITUARY STANZAS, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DEATH OF A BEI^OYED CHIL.D. 
 
 Oh ! where is she whose eyes' dark blue, 
 
 And glossy, raven hair. 
 And lips and cheeks of rosy hue, 
 
 And brow benign and fair, 
 
 Were render'd lovely by a heart 
 
 Where every virtue glow'd, 
 And by a mind where Heav'n and Art 
 
 Rare bounties had bestowed ? 
 
 Alas ! she is no longer here — 
 She was too good, too pure ! 
 To linger on this earthly sphere, 
 Where sin and grief endure. 
 
 Reader ! she was her parents' pride — 
 Their source of hope and pleasure ! 
 
 Now, both are to their hearts denied — 
 Now, gone ! their richest treasure ! 
 
 Oh ! 'tis as if a meteor bright. 
 
 With quick and sudden gleam. 
 Had crossed their path, and made Life's night 
 
 More dark and dreary seem I 
 
 So good, so lovely, and so dear ! 
 
 At eight years old to die ! 
 The awful stroke is hard to bear. 
 
 Though sent by Him on high. 
 Nor can we ever *' kiss the rod,^^ 
 
 Or say, " Thy will be done !" 
 Unaided by Almighty God, 
 
 His Spirit and his Son. 
 
 Then let our prayers ascend to Heaven, 
 
 This blessing to implore — 
 That strength may to our souls be given, 
 Whilst weeping, to adore ! 
 
237 
 
 Lines on the Death of a Beloved Niece^ 
 MARIA MAYO SCOTT, 
 
 WHO DIED AT THE AGE OF SIXTEEN. 
 
 Chant the requiem for the dead ! 
 
 The beautiful and young ; 
 For her whose spirit pure has fled 
 
 To realms from whence it sprung. 
 
 Tell of the virtues she possessed, 
 
 Who on the bier lies low, 
 With cold, clasp'd hands upon that breast 
 
 Which ever felt for woe. 
 
 Sooth ye her parents' dire dispair, 
 To such bereavement doomed ; 
 Then chant the requiem as ye bear 
 Their loved one to the tomb. 
 
 Oh ! she was beauteous as the rose, 
 
 And joyous as the doe 
 That lightly bounds o'er Alpine snows, 
 
 Beneath the bright sun's glow. 
 
 Pure she was as a cnrystal rill, 
 
 Within its banks' of flowers ; 
 Sweet as the fragrance they distil 
 
 Around the richest bowers. 
 
 Ah ! gently lay her in the grave. 
 With solemn rite and prayer ; 
 
 He who has ta'en is He who gave — 
 Murmur we may not dare. 
 
 Then chant the requiem for the dead. 
 
 The beautiful and young ; 
 To Heaven her sainted soul has fled, 
 
 The realm from whence it sprung. 
 
238 
 
 TTTILIGHT. 
 
 Sacred to me the twilight hour— 
 Then Memory, with magic power, 
 
 Recalls her look — her voice — 
 And Fancy soars with rapid flight 
 From Earth to Heav'n, where seraphs bright 
 
 Around God's throne rejoice. 
 
 Among those seraphs sees she one, 
 Whose beaming eye and radiant zone 
 
 Seem brighter than the rest ; 
 It beckons ! speaks! — " Dear mother, see ! 
 Behold how in Eternity 
 
 Thy favoiir'd child is blest ! 
 
 Here all is holy, pure and fair — 
 Here enters, never, sin nor care ; 
 
 But love and joy prevail : 
 Our Father's wond'rous works to scan — 
 To praise Him for redeeming man. 
 
 And each new spirit hail. 
 
 Form our delights, and may be thine, 
 My mother ! if thou wilt resign 
 
 Thyself to His decree : 
 Unmurmuring, run thy mortal race — 
 Trust, love, obey, and through His grace 
 
 Thou soon shalt be with me !'' 
 
 My God, let not the call be vain ! 
 Help me each murmur to restrain, 
 
 And grant me faith and love : 
 Oh ! ever bend me to thy will, 
 Whate'er it send — be it suffering still, 
 
 Or blessing from above ! 
 
239 
 
 THE MANIAC, 
 
 Fate sheds o'er me her deepest gloom — 
 
 A miserable wretch am I ! 
 Blacker than shades of night my doom — 
 
 Would I could lay me down and die ! 
 
 What fearful memories o'er me steal ! 
 
 How wearily wears the passing day ! 
 In vain to Heav'n each sad appeal, 
 
 Though hourly for relief I pray. 
 
 Lingering thus on Life's bleak shore, 
 While waves of sorrow round me roll ; 
 
 Wreck 'd hopes my flowing tears deplore, 
 And fell Dispair weighs down my soul. 
 
 Yes — thou art mine, and I am thine, 
 . Thou vulture of the human heart ! 
 Beneath thy ravages I pine — 
 
 Where'er I turn, dread power! thou art. 
 
 THE HARP or THE DEPARTED! 
 
 Strike not that harp ! Alas ! how could I bear 
 Again its mellow, dulcet sound to hear ? 
 When ev'iy note of those silvery cords, 
 With eloquence keener than piercing words, 
 Would tell of the past, and the lovely Dead, 
 And of hopes that died when her spirit fled ? 
 
 Ah, touch it not ! to me each thrilling tone 
 Would sound more plaintive than the ring-dove's moan ; 
 Would seem that voice beloved, now hushed in death ! 
 The voice that was sweet as a zephyr's breath 
 When it comes perfumed with odors of flowers, 
 The richest exhaled from the loveliest bowers. 
 
 Strike not the harp ! My very soul would weep, 
 As o'er its chords thy snowy fingers sweep. 
 Oh, be it ever thus! — untouched^ unstrung ! 
 And on its treasured frame, pale wreaths be hung — 
 Emblems of her^ whose bright and early bloom 
 So soon has withered in the cold, cold tomb ! 
 
240 
 
 LINES IN MEMORY OF THE 
 
 r.ATE MRS. HENINGHAM H. LYONS, 
 
 OF RICHMOND, VA. 
 
 I knew tliee in onr girlhood, when life was fresh and fair — 
 Our hopes as bright as morning's light, 
 Our hearts devoid of care. 
 
 And well do I remember the merry, happy hours. 
 We spent in play each holiday 
 'Midst singing birds and flowers. 
 
 How often, with dear school-mates, such pleasant walks we took, 
 In youthful ranks, along the banks 
 Of our canal and brook. 
 
 In those days, those happy days, how bright thy cheeks did glow, 
 With rosy health, the richest wealth 
 Kind nature can bestow. 
 
 Thy hair was of a golden hue, bewitching was thine eye. 
 And Cupid's wile seemed in thy smile. 
 And fragrance in thy sigh. 
 
 And well do I remember, how in the sprightly dance, 
 Thy winsome grace and beaming face 
 Would rivet many a glance. 
 
 In after years of womanhood, we greeted thee a bride ; 
 Beneath the sun, no lovelier one 
 E'er stoojd by bridegroom's side ! 
 
 Time gHded on with silken wing — we saw thee a fond mother; 
 A beauteous race thy home did grace, 
 Each rivalling the other. 
 
241 
 
 On, on sped Time — then sickness came — then death!— Thou 
 
 past from earth ! 
 Ah, many a tear upon thy bier 
 From weeping eyes gushed forth! 
 
 Yes, friend beloved and cherished ! we've looked upon thee dead! 
 In shroud arrayed— on death-couch laid — 
 Then borne to earth's cold bed ! 
 
 And there, within the open grave, we heard the thrilling sound 
 Of the clods that slid on thy coffin's lid, 
 When the spade was passed around 
 
 By those among thy funeral train who joined in the sad rite, 
 And piled that heap, above thy sleep, 
 Which hides thee from our sight. 
 
 'Tis true our grief is selfish, for we know that thou art blest 
 In Heaven above, where all is love. 
 And the weary soul finds rest. 
 
 Yet tears will fall like rain-drops, when mem'ry turns to thee, 
 And fondly traces scenes and places 
 Were thou wert wont to be : 
 
 Then paints the gentle virtues which so adorned thy life. 
 Gracing each sphere, filled by thee here, 
 Of sister, mother, wife. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, sweet spirit ! our guardian angel be ; 
 Pray for us ! Pray ! Guide us on the way 
 That leads to Heaven and thee. 
 
242 
 
 THE MOTHER'S LAMENT, 
 
 I love to listen to the murmur'd song 
 Of zephyrs revelling o'er beds of flowers; 
 
 Their airy music, as it floats along, 
 
 Speaks to my heart of past and hallowed hours, 
 
 When that sweet rainbow of my life — our boy — 
 
 Solaced each care and heightened every joy. 
 
 Brilliant in beauty as the humming-bird, 
 When its soft plumage ghtters in the sun — 
 
 Sportive as lambkin of the fleecy herd — 
 As gentle too — was our lamented one. 
 
 His merry laugh still echoes in mine ear ; 
 
 His fairy footsteps still I seem to hear! 
 
 And can it be ? Oh, is it not a dream ? 
 That he has \eiu forever^ earth's fair scene! 
 He, that w^as so loved, so beauteous, and so bright ! 
 Who, to my soul, was breath, was life, was light ! 
 In the dark tomb has that dear form been laid 1 
 Was't by his bier we knelt and wept and prayed ? 
 While funeral rite and psalm, at twilight dim. 
 Was said and chaunted (Oh, my God!) o'er him! 
 'Twas even so ! — Death claimed him for his own, 
 And made us desolate, heart-stricken, lone ! 
 Now, oft like Cain, I feel as if my share 
 Of earthly wo is more than I can bear. 
 Now, soon to rest within that deep cold grave 
 Where sleeps my child — so still! — is all I crave. 
 Till the last trump shall peal along the skies. 
 And the awaken'd, conscious Dead arise ! 
 Then in communion sacred, blest and sweet, 
 Our angel cherub we again shall meet. 
 
243 
 
 THE INVOCATION. 
 
 Are the^ sot all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation? 
 
 Hebkewb, chapter x, verse 17. 
 
 Gentle Spirit, hover o'er me, 
 
 Be my guardian day and night ; 
 Help me, keep me, I implore thee ! 
 
 Guide me to the realms of light ! 
 
 Now, an angel bright with glory I 
 
 Fancy paints thee to mine eyes ; 
 Yet fond nature will deplore thee, 
 
 Though thou art in Paradise. 
 
 Oh, thou wert by me more cherished 
 
 Than aught else on earth beside ; 
 And with thee those hopes have perish'd, 
 
 Which so cheered my life's dull tide. 
 
 Worldly pleasures no more charm me — 
 
 From their spells I now am free ; 
 Thoughts of death no more alarm me, 
 
 I would die to be with thee. 
 
 Come, then, loved one ! hover o'er me — 
 
 Leave me nof, by day or night ; 
 Aid me, keep me, I implore thee ! 
 
 Guide me to the realms of light i 
 
244 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THE 
 
 liATE MRS. MARIA B MURRAY, 
 
 OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Stranger, " In mourHful peals, prolonged and clear, 
 A solemn knell falls on the ear ; 
 And see ! slow moving o'er yon plain, 
 X dark draped hearse and funeral train ! 
 Oh, whose the form thus borne along, 
 And followed by that weeping throng?" 
 
 Mourner, '* She who, there^ in death reposes, 
 Was to our sad hearts most dear ! 
 He who all events disposes, 
 
 Called her from this earthly sphere : 
 
 Called that tender wife and mother, 
 By so many loved so well ! 
 
 From this fair world to another — 
 And with grief our bosoms swell. 
 
 Goodness — genius — ^beauty — wealth — 
 All were her's — a precious dower! 
 
 But, ah, the needful boon of health 
 Denied — she faded like a flower ! 
 
 Ne'er shall loving eyes behold her 
 Grace again her cheerful home ! 
 
 Never more fond arms enfold her ! 
 Never more to us she'll come !" 
 
 Stranger. " Calm thee, mourner I cease bewailing ! 
 Think how she in Heav'n is blest : 
 Then let faith o'er woe prevailing, 
 Each rebellious thought arrest. 
 
 Oh, lament her not so deeply : 
 To rejoin her now prepare ; 
 
 Let her pure example keep thee 
 From the sins which taint us here." 
 
245 
 
 A MONODY ON THE 
 
 DEATH OF JOHN ROBERTSON, 
 
 OF PHILADELPHIA, 
 Who died at Riclimond, Va., Nov. »», 183^* 
 
 ADDRESSED TO HIS MOTHER. 
 
 Mourn not for him, that gentle youth. 
 Whose bosom was the seat of truth — 
 Of virtue, and of honor bright. 
 Of all that could our hearts delight. 
 
 Ah, mourn him not ! an angel now. 
 With God's own signet on his brow ; 
 He roves the skies, and his the love 
 Of cherubim and saints above. 
 
 With them he shares the bliss of Heaven, 
 The glorious boon to pure ones given ; 
 And he was pure, your gentle son — 
 Then weep not that his course is run. 
 
 So fitted for a happier sphere, 
 Would you have had him linger here, 
 Amid these tainted scenes of earth. 
 Where hope and joy scarce have their birth, 
 
 Ere from us they are rudely torn. 
 And we left weeping and forlorn ? 
 Our life is like the autumn leaf. 
 Varied in hue, its bloom as brief. 
 
 And can you wish him back again, 
 To feel the stings of grief and pain, 
 Which are the doom of all our race 
 While its perplexing maze we trace ? 
 
 Would you recall his ransomed soul, 
 In mercy freed from sin's control, 
 And re-subject it to that power. 
 So baneful e'en in Eden's bower ? 
 
246 
 
 All, no ! though numbered with the dead, 
 For him let not our tears be shed, 
 Nor sighs of bitter woe expressed ! 
 Oh, why bewail the Dead thus blest? 
 
 Flow for ourselves, ye rapid tears ! 
 For when from earth these disappears, 
 One of the worthiest of her train, 
 Our^s is the loss — their^s the rich gain I 
 
 LINES ON THE 
 
 DEATH OP MRS. JOSEPH MARX. 
 
 Mother beloved, farewell ! thy cares are o'er 
 And thy dear spirit treads that blissful shore, 
 The *' promised land" of rest — 
 And yet we mourn and languish for thee here, 
 And to thy mem'ry shed the bitter tear, 
 With direst grief opprest. 
 
 And when assembled round the household hearth, 
 So late the scene of sweet domestic mirth, 
 And joys serene and pure — 
 Oh, then, we feel the dreary void that's there ; 
 We miss thy voice — we see thy vacant chair. 
 And our sad loss deplore. 
 
 Mother beloved ! we miss thee every hour, 
 When morning glows or evening shadows lower. 
 Or night's dark veil is spread. 
 But there is one who loved thee — now so lone ! 
 Sickness is on him still ; and thou, whose kindly tone 
 Didst soothe him, — thou art dead I 
 
 Oh may thy spirit visit his repose 
 
 In the calm hour, when mystic dreams disclose 
 
 Their changeful fantasies ; 
 
 And may thy tomb be unto us a shrine, 
 
 Whereal, from this cold sphere, to scenes divine. 
 
 Our thoughts and hopes shall rise. 
 
247 
 
 STANZAS ON THE 
 
 DEATH OF MR. JO-EPH MARX. 
 
 Peace to thy shade ! Oh, thou who wert most kind, 
 
 Most generous, noble and smcere ; 
 In thee how many vh'tues we beheld combined, 
 
 Now *'lost to sight, but still to memory dear !" 
 
 Thou wert the loving father and the faithful friend, 
 
 The tender husband and the brother true ; 
 Thou wert the cordial host, and oft would hie to blend, 
 
 With thee and thine, a social happy crew. 
 
 At noon-tide they would gather round thy festive board ; 
 
 At eve oft circle gaily round thy hearth, 
 And there, blithe as its Haze, each gleeful soul forth poured 
 
 The merry jest, awakening harmless mirth. 
 
 There were thy children, too, and one beloved who trod 
 With thee the maze of life, thy fate to share — 
 
 Ah, where are they ? In other homes ! And she ? With God ! 
 And thou ? We trust thou'rt gone to join her there. 
 
 For thou hast past from earth, and lonely is thy hall, 
 Where erst both sparkling wit and wine went round ; . 
 
 While welcome wreathed each cup, and greeting kind met all, 
 And airy footsteps tripped to music's sound. 
 
 O, well may all, who read these sad and simple lines, 
 
 Garner the solemn warning they convey, 
 That as the shade of night before the sun declines, 
 
 Thus silently and surely fade away 
 
 The pageantries of earth ! — its hopes, its joys, its care ; 
 
 Then let us strive, while time to us is given, 
 (Time flies apace, and dread eternity draws near!) 
 
 To seek the narrow path which leads to Heaven. 
 
248 
 
 EPITAPH FOR AN INFANT. 
 
 Occasioned hy the Death of a sweet Babe, the infant son of Mr. and 
 Mrs, Jefferson PeytoNj during the summer of 1851. 
 
 Here, stranger, pause and read 
 
 Upon this little tomb. 
 How earthly blessings fade. 
 
 And perish in their bloom. 
 
 A tender form lies here, 
 
 Committed to the dust. 
 That lived but one short year 
 
 Ere God resumed his trust. 
 
 Beneath this Httle mound, 
 
 Where oft the violet blows. 
 Deep, deep within the ground. 
 
 We laid our withered rose. 
 
 We planted it in earth. 
 
 We hope to bloom in Heaven ; 
 For pure as at its birth. 
 
 To God our flower was given. 
 
 And when the orbs of night 
 
 Gleam on the sacred spot, 
 The breeze, in whispers light, 
 
 Murmurs, /org-c^ me not. 
 
249 
 
 THE ADIEU. 
 
 TO ONE WHO HAD BEEN A COMFORTER IN AFFLICTION. 
 
 Dearest Marie ! Fare thee well ; 
 
 May gentle breezes waft thee on ! 
 Thine absence breaks a pleasing spell, 
 
 And sadness reigns, now thou art gone ! 
 
 Thy presence soothed my stricken heart, 
 Thy converse cheered my spirits' gloom ; 
 
 Alas ! alas ! that we must part ! 
 And I my lonely tasks resume. 
 
 Forget me not, mine own sweet niece ; 
 
 On thee, my thoughts and love shall rest ; 
 Adieu ! On Earth, mayst thou have peace ; 
 
 In Heaven, the raptures of the blest ! 
 
SMILES AFTER TEARS. 
 
 "VIVE LA BAGATELLE!" 
 
 THE WHITE SULPHUR SPRING OF VA. IJV 1836. 
 
 A DESCRIPTIVE BALLAD. 
 
 Oh, the White Sulphur Spring ! the White Sulphur Spring ! 
 
 How pure, how limpid and cool are its waters ! 
 Ev'ry year thither borne upon Hope's buoyant wing, 
 
 Hie the Brave, and the Fair, and the Rich, from all quarters. 
 
 Some go to seek pleasure, and some to woo health, 
 
 And others (like Ca3lebs) in search of a wife. 
 Whose virtues and charms, tho' unaided by wealth, 
 
 Shall solace their cares and enrapture their life. 
 
 But others there are (the base, sordid elves !) 
 Who sigh not for these — their object is money ; 
 
 Ye favoured of Fortune, take care of yourselves ! 
 Ah, heed not their love-tales, tho' melting as honey I 
 
 Oh, the White Sulphur Spring ! the White Sulphur Spring 
 
 Can cure ev'ry evil that ever was known ! 
 Gout, fever, dyspepsia, and each horrid thing 
 
 That e'er worried the flesh or tormented the bone ! 
 
 How verdant its lawn in the depth of the mountains ! . 
 
 How snug are its cabins, all ranged in a row ! 
 What spruce beaus and belles daily quaff at its fountains ! 
 So gay and so stylish ! — they make quite a show ! 
 
 When the dinner-bell rings, what a throng sallies forth 
 Of maidens and bachelors, husbands and wives ; 
 
 Of Locos and Whigs, from East, West, South and North — 
 All talking and walking as if for their lives ! 
 
252 
 
 At table, what scramhling ! — what bustle and clamor! 
 
 Here, gentlemen calling ; and there, servants running — 
 Old Vulcan's stout myrmidons, while at the hammer, 
 
 Could not have occasioned a clatter more stunning ! 
 
 But enough of Terrestrials ! Haste we to Paradise,* 
 
 Where dwell those bright houries whose soft silken chains 
 
 Have entwined many hearts, and forced them to sacrifice 
 Friendship's bland feelings for Love's racking pains ! 
 
 You'll find there Miss B., Miss C, and Miss W., 
 And some other belles who in Richmond reside ; 
 
 But beware of their charms ! — they have pow'r to trouble you, 
 And cause you a torturing ache in the side. 
 
 From Baltimore, Boston, Philadelphia, New- York ; 
 
 From Louisville, Lynchburg, and Edenton city. 
 Are fair ones and rare ones ! — just look in that walk ! 
 
 'Tis filled with the graceful, tlie beauteous, the witty ! 
 
 There are songstresses also among the gay train. 
 Whose soft notes enchant as they fall on the ear, 
 
 Like those of the syrens whose ravishing strain 
 Ulysses of old dared not venture to hear. 
 
 At night, should you wend to Terpsichore hall. 
 You'll see there assembled a brilliant colleetion. 
 
 Who form, ev'ry evening, a sociable Ball,. 
 
 Where quadrilles and waltzes are danced to perfection. 
 
 There are Judges and Gen'rals whose names I could mention. 
 And Doctors and Lawyers and Statesmen of fame ; 
 
 But to lengthen this ballad is not my intention, 
 'Twould be too laborious each one to proclaim. 
 
 Yet, ere I conclude, lo ! a paradox hear ! 
 
 Though Protestants all, yet obey we a Pope,f 
 Whose mandates give pleasure whene'er they appear; 
 
 And that long he may reign, most devoutly we hope ! 
 
 f 
 
 * A range of cabins called " Paradise row," from their location. 
 f William Pope, Esq., master of ceremonies, by courtesy. 
 
253 
 
 THE FliOWER GIRL OF BADEN. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 *' Flowers ! flowers ! — who'll buy flowers?" 
 
 Cried a beauteous maiden ; 
 •* They're bright and fresh— just culled from bowers 
 
 Within a mile of Baden. 
 
 Here blend the lily and the rose, 
 
 With richest odors laden ; 
 They scent the very air that blows 
 
 Along the streets of Baden. 
 
 Or would you violets, to perfume 
 
 The trunks your clothes are laid in ? 
 Behold them in my basket bloom — 
 
 You can't find such in Baden." 
 
 Thus every day, at early dawn, 
 
 Did pretty Minna Vaiden 
 Trip o'er the verdant, dewy lawn, 
 
 To sell her wares in Baden. 
 
 And truly, she came not in vain 
 
 With lovely nosegays laden ; 
 She sold them all, and caught a swain — 
 
 A rich one, too — in Baden. 
 
 Not only her bouquets he bought 
 
 Of the sweet, smiling maiden ; 
 But he the humble cottage sought 
 
 Wherein she dwelt near Baden, 
 
 And ask'd her for her heart and hand — 
 
 His suit did Cupid aid in ; 
 So she his prayer could not withstand, 
 
 As was soon known in Baden. 
 
 For ere that summer by did glide, 
 The blushing blue-eyed maiden 
 Consented to become his bride. 
 And share his home in Baden : 
 
254 
 
 Provided that her mother, dear, 
 Would leave the cot they staid in, 
 
 And move to town, there to be near 
 Her daughter when in Baden. 
 
 'Twas thus arranged, and in the fall 
 
 The happy Minna Vaiden 
 Was wedded to young Rodolf Hall, 
 
 The Banker's son in Baden. 
 
 And now she lives a lady bright 
 
 As ever eyes were laid on ! 
 In stately mansion, on the right, 
 
 Just as you enter Baden. 
 
 There she rears /ar dearer flowers 
 
 (A rosy boy and maiden) 
 Than those she cultured once in bowers. 
 
 Within a mile of Baden. 
 
 Verses sent, with a Satin Pin- Cushion, to a Clergyman, in 1832 
 
 Accept this little gift, my friend ; 
 Tho' trifling, yet perchance 'twill tend 
 To make you think of me. 
 Whene'er for holy rite or prayer, 
 Your gown and surplice you prepare, 
 And act for love or fee,. 
 
 And when you preach, cold hearts to warm, 
 
 As smooth and graceful as its form 
 
 May all your periods be ! 
 
 And bright and pointed as its pins. 
 
 Your arguments against our sins, 
 
 Whilst rapt, we list to thee. 
 
265 
 
 A dolorous letter to a friend, 
 About a squirrel's cruel end, 
 Addressed to Mrs. C. M. B. 
 By the writer, J. M. C. 
 
 Dear Caroline, prepare your ear 
 
 A melancholy tale to hear; 
 
 One that perchance will cause a sigh. 
 
 Nay, draw a tear from your bright eye. 
 
 This morning, just as I awoke, 
 
 In came. the cook and thus she spoke: 
 
 (Her words I do remember well. 
 
 For as upon mine ear they fell, 
 
 They seemed a solemn, sad prediction 
 
 Of that which now is my affliction.) 
 
 '' Madam," said she, in doleful tone, 
 
 " Your darling squirrel. Bun, is gone ! 
 
 I've hunted for him here and there. 
 
 In this place, that place, everywhere. 
 
 In vain ! To find him I despair — 
 
 And much I fear the cat's caught Bun.!" 
 
 Alas ! her fears have proved too true. 
 
 As shall be quickly proved to you. 
 
 For, in the cellar, on the ground, 
 
 His skin and bones have since been found. 
 
 Ill fated Bunny ! Precious pet! 
 
 Thy winning ways I'll ne'er forget ! 
 
 Thy severed limbs lie by me yet ; 
 
 Ah, how they kindle fond regret ! 
 
 Why could St thou not have been content, 
 
 And kept within thy snug cage pent ? 
 
 Then, thou wouldst not have been o'er powered 
 
 And by thine enemy devoured. 
 
 But thou werst ever hke a child, 
 
 Too prone to gambol and be wild, - 
 
 And never grave or melancholy — 
 
 Well, dearly hast thou paid for folly ! 
 
256 
 
 But I must cease to grieve and prate, 
 
 And haste in few words to relate 
 
 When, how and where was brought to ])ass 
 
 This deed so dire. Alas ! Alas ! 
 
 It seems that, tired of being quiet, 
 
 Bunny resolved to have a riot ; 
 
 So, feehng nor demure nor sage, 
 
 He most unT\dsely left his cage. 
 
 Last evemng — about six o'clock, 
 
 (Poor Httle fellow! What a shock !) 
 
 And sported round and round the hou^, 
 
 As froHcsome as any mouse. 
 
 While thus he entertained himself 
 
 Forth stalked grimalkin, horrid elf ! 
 
 And when his tempting form she saw. 
 
 She pounced upon him with her claw. 
 
 Dragged him below, and eat him up ! 
 
 Doubtless because she chose to sup. 
 
 I wish she had been drowTied or strangled 
 
 Ere my favorite she so mangled. 
 
 Tearing piecemeal, limb and feature 
 
 Of the pretts^ playful creature. 
 
 When e'er I think how he was slaughtered, 
 
 I'm fain to have her hung and quartered. 
 
 Really she merits such a death. 
 
 For robbing the dear thing of breath : 
 
 In such a savage manner too ; 
 
 But t'was cat-like — was't not ? — Adieu. 
 
 IMPROMPTU, ON A SARCASTIC ¥OUXG L.ADY. 
 
 She's very pretty, and she's very ssnart — 
 
 WTiat pity 'tis I she's also very^ tari ; 
 
 But for her tnr.rrur. lier face mirn" ^rin each hfart 
 
257 
 
 NERVOUS FEARS; 
 
 OR, A NIGHT IN A HAUNTED CHAMBER. 
 
 A LESSON FOR THE CREDULOUS. 
 
 It was past midnight, and a taper's light, 
 
 Gleamed fitfully on the hearth ; 
 All around was hushed, save the blast which rushed. 
 
 And roared like the sea when wrath. 
 
 'Twas an awful gale ! and at times would wail. 
 
 Like a mourner over the dead ; 
 The windows would shake, as if an earthquake 
 
 Began its havoc to spread. 
 
 In this .trying state, at an hour so late, 
 
 Alone in the haunted room. 
 With bitter regret, I lament the bet 
 
 I had made to brave its gloom. 
 
 And then I declared, that should I be sjiared 
 
 To greet the next morning's light, 
 I would not again encounter such pain 
 
 For miUions of diamonds bright ; 
 
 For the richest prize, ne'er be so unwise. 
 
 As to venture to repose 
 In a place so drear, with no mortal near, 
 
 To calm my fears if they rose. 
 
 At length the wind ceased, my terror decreased. 
 
 And I closed my eyes to sleep ; 
 But the nap I sought was not to be caught, 
 
 For wide awake did I keep. 
 
 Feeling so dreary, restless and weary, 
 
 O, how I wished for the dawn ! 
 The minutes seemed hours, wing'd by wicked powers. 
 
 So heavily they moved on. 
 
 The lamp would glimmer, bum dimmer and dimmer. 
 Then shed a blue hght around ; 
 
258 
 
 A shade on the wall resembled a pall, 
 Its fringes traihng the ground. 
 
 The old oak table, of hue so sable, 
 
 Looked like a funeral bier, 
 And each antique chair, stiff, high-backed and queer? 
 
 A cannon's stall did appear. 
 
 I lay still as death ! — restrained every breath, 
 
 And traced the forms on the chintz — 
 They seemed to advance in a weird-like dance. 
 
 And their uncouth steps to mince. 
 
 I averted my face from the hideous race, 
 
 With their odd, fantastic gait. 
 And shuddering with dread, averted my head. 
 
 Expecting a direful fate. 
 
 Soon came a faint cry, and something ran b}^ 
 
 And scampered about the floor ; 
 Round and round it flew, the lamp it o'erthrew : 
 
 I shrieked and remember no more. 
 
 Friends found me next day, as senseless as cla^v 
 
 And cold as a block of ice ; 
 At my bedside sat my favorite cat, 
 
 By her lay two slaughtered mice. 
 
 There was then no doubt of what caused the rout 
 
 Which scared me out of my wits ; 
 Puss raised the turmoil, and upset the oil 
 
 In catching a treat for her kits. 
 
 And how she got there was equally clear ; , 
 
 In my haste the night before, 
 I quickly undrest and retired to rest, 
 
 Neglecting to latch the door. 
 
 Puss wandering astray, while seeking for prey, 
 
 And finding the door ajar. 
 Had slyly crept in ; then followed the din 
 
 ^^ her predatory war. 
 
259 
 
 THE CURFEW BELL. 
 
 Heavily borne on the evening air, 
 
 The toll of the curfew bell comes — 
 And, even should sorrow or sickness be there, 
 
 No Hght must illumine our homes. 
 'Tis the stern behest of the Norman king 
 
 Who sits upon England's throne ; 
 Ah, little cares he for the ills it may bring,- 
 
 For mercy by him is ne'er shown. 
 
 Not a ray of light 
 Through the livelong night 
 
 Allows he the shiv'ring and old, 
 As they cower along 
 On the dreary hearth-stone 
 
 While the wind blows shrilly and cold. 
 
 At the gay festal board 
 With its generous hoard, 
 
 The jest and the wine-song have ceased ; 
 And, vexed and down-hearted. 
 The guests have departed ; 
 
 The ill-omened bell stopped the feast ! 
 
 O, that horrible bell 
 Seems a funeral knell. 
 
 Loud tolling o'er Liberty's grave — 
 ^ut the period will come. 
 When the roll of the drum 
 
 Shall rouse from his torpor each slave; 
 For Saxons again their rights "shall maintain, 
 And raise the war-cry, the proud king to defy. 
 
260 
 
 THE FELON'S TRYST. 
 
 Sister, we must part to-night ! 
 Then meet me in the dim twilight, 
 Beneath the old oak on the green ; 
 Ah, meet me then and ihere^ Kathleen ? 
 And sever from thy golden hair 
 One glossy tress — one ringlet fair, 
 A precious, sacred pledge of love, 
 To press my heart where'er I rove. 
 At twilight hour, upon the green, 
 Ah, meet me then and there^ Kathleen r 
 
 Bring with thee, too, that book of prayer 
 Which saves (thou sayest) from despair 
 The wretch repentant of his crime, 
 And fills his soul with hope sublime. 
 Alas ! I well deserve my doom, 
 Fraught as it is with shame and gloom. 
 But penitence comes now too late, 
 To shield me from a Felon's fate. 
 At t^vi^ght dim, upon the green. 
 Ah, meet me then and there^ Kathleen I 
 
 Sister, when we breathe farewell, 
 
 A darksome tale I have to tell : 
 
 ^Twill wring, I know, thy gentle heart* 
 
 Yet 7nust be told thee ere we part — 
 
 Now fail me not ! — for ere night wanes. 
 
 Disguised I leave our native plains. 
 
 To seek some distant foreign shore ; 
 
 Then^ dear Katlileen ! we meet no more \ 
 
 At twilight hour, upon the green, 
 
 We part, to meet no more I — Kathleen. 
 
261 
 
 AN EPIGRAM, 
 
 IVritten on an Occurrence that took place as detailed in the verse. 
 
 Once upon a time an argument arose 
 
 Between two ladies — too colloquial foes. 
 
 How eloquently eacli in turn descanted ! 
 
 How rapidly ! for breath each almost panted. 
 
 To irony at length they both resorted, 
 
 And thus quite sharply with each other sported. 
 
 Said C, "One must be wrapped in mental blindness 
 
 Not to perceive that you^re the milk of kindness /" 
 
 ''Indeed !" cried I, "One must be milk andwater^ 
 
 Not to perceive that you are cream of Tartar /" 
 
 A RIDDI.E3 ^VITH ITS ANSWER, 
 
 With twinkling eyes and glossy skin, 
 I'm sometimes plump and sometimes thin — 
 And dwell a little cave within. 
 
 At night, when most folks go to sleep, 
 I slyly from my doorway peep, 
 And if all's quiet, forth I creep. 
 
 O, then, on what nice things I dine ! 
 Cheese, crackers, cake, but never wine ; 
 No taste for liquor e'er was mine. 
 
 Well ! when my savory meals are o'er, 
 And hunger twinges me no more. 
 Dear ! how I scamper on the floor ! 
 
 But my poor heart goes pit-a-pat. 
 If while my capers I am at, 
 I hear a footstep or a cat ! 
 
 Then, oh, how I do clip it home ! 
 Quicker than when I forth did come 
 To eat, and through the house to roam. 
 
 Now, what am I ? A dog ? A hare ? 
 
 Or what ? Come tell me, lady fair : 
 
 "A mouse" — Ah, yes — you've ^o^ me there ! 
 
262 
 
 SOL.IL,OQUY OF A HYPOCONDRIAC. 
 
 Scene — A darkened room ; rain loelting the window pants ; 
 Hypocondriac looks out, comes forward, and groans. 
 
 Heigh-ho ! 
 Whatshallldo? 
 How desolate ! 
 How hard my fate ! 
 In truth I am 
 A wretched man ! 
 Lone and dreary, 
 Dull and weary, 
 Melancholy, 
 Sick of folly. 
 Tired of life, 
 Its toils and strife, 
 Angry factions 
 And distractions ; 
 Its inflictions 
 And restrictions, 
 Intermeddhngs, 
 Petty peddlings, 
 Sland'rous stories 
 And false glories ; 
 Its busthng din. 
 And scenes of sin ; 
 Its doubts and fears, 
 Regrets and tears ; 
 Its hopes betrayed. 
 And joys decayed ; 
 Its spacious wiles, 
 Deceiving smiles, 
 Falling pleasures, 
 Glianging measures. 
 Fleeting wealth, 
 And fading health ; 
 
 Foolish notions 
 And commotions. 
 Eccentricities, 
 And duplicities : 
 Epidemics, 
 And polemics ; 
 Its wrong pursuits. 
 And their sad fruits. 
 Tired, in short, 
 Of ev'ry sport, 
 Of ev'ry action 
 Or attraction ; 
 Of frequent sighs 
 O'er broken ties ; 
 Of probation. 
 Lamentation, 
 Self-denials 
 And hard trials ! 
 Discontented 
 And tormented, 
 A prey to grief — 
 With no relief — 
 Soured and sadden'd, 
 Almost maddened ! 
 Fain would I quit. 
 Did Heav'n permit. 
 This gloomy maze 
 Of wo-fr aught days, 
 Of months and years, 
 Keplete with cares, 
 And void of joy 
 Without all^Y — 
 
263 
 
 its dissensions 
 And contentions ; 
 Its hard-earned gains 
 And useless pains ; 
 Provocations, 
 Separations, 
 Speculations, 
 And vexations ; 
 Its delusions 
 And confusions ; 
 Endless losses, 
 Ceaseless crosses. 
 Animosities, 
 And pomposities. 
 Vain achievements, 
 Dire bereavements. 
 Distressing sights, 
 Invaded rights — 
 
 Be mine a grave 
 In earth or wave ! 
 A wakeless sleep 
 Within the deep ! 
 A lowly bed 
 Among the dead. 
 Who calmly rest 
 On Earth's cold breast, 
 In that repose 
 The Spirit knows, 
 When dispossesses! 
 Of mortal vest. 
 Come then, oh Death ! 
 Pass, pass, oh breath ! 
 Cease throbbing ! heart. 
 I would depart. 
 
 Exit HyjJocondriae. 
 
 AN ENIGMA. 
 
 In the middle of day I always appear, 
 
 Yet am ever in darkness and sadness and fear. 
 
 I'm in anguish and pain, yet always in health. 
 
 In the midst too of happiness, pleasure and wealth. 
 
 I was formed since the flood, yet am part of the ark, 
 
 And seen in a candle, a lamp and a spark. 
 
 Tho' ne'er out of England, I'm always in France^ 
 
 Stay in Paris, Amiens, Bourdeaux and Nantes. 
 
 I'm found in the waves and the foam of the ocean. 
 
 In steamboats and cars, y^t am never in motion. 
 
 I'm always in land, yetn-'rr out of water ; 
 
 I'm always in peace, yet ei-r:o-:.atered in slaughter ; 
 
 In short, I'm in all things ; There's no lake or sea. 
 
 Or island or cape, but contains little me. 
 
264 
 
 ANSWER TO A NOTE FROM A FRIEND, 
 
 Accompanying the Present of a Fly Brush, 
 
 I've just received, my generous friend, 
 Your beauteous gift and playfizl letter ; 
 
 And in return my thanks I send, 
 
 Would I could proffer something better ! 
 
 Oh ! what a comfort it will be ! 
 
 To have the busy, torturing flies, 
 Dispersed, and quickly made to flee, 
 
 From their assaults on meats and pies. 
 
 When shall we see you here again ? 
 
 Ere long, we most sincerely trust ! 
 To have you with us we are fain. 
 
 Whene'er we can^ so come you must. 
 
 And breakfast, dine, or take your tea. 
 Which ever suits your taste or time — 
 
 Too much of you we cannot see ; 
 'Tis true in prose as well as rhyme. 
 
 Suppose you come to-day and dine ? 
 
 Ah, do ! You'll give us all great pleasure. 
 Our roasting beef seems very fine ; 
 
 Our hour is three, and then you've leisure • 
 
 The family join in this request. 
 
 And send their love, dear Mrs. T. 
 
 Now, pray don't v/ait to be more prest, 
 But hasten to your friend, J. C. 
 
 lilncs suggested toy a ConT^ersation TFttli. a Friend* 
 
 I'd have no carved, elaborate stone, 
 Within some dim-lit stately dome. 
 
 Which crowds infest : 
 A grave — a rural grave for me, 
 Beneath some fragrant tree — 
 
 There would I rest. 
 
.265 
 
 Blithe birds should carol o'er my head, 
 Bright dew-drops gem my verdant bed, 
 
 And flow 'rets bloom — 
 And woodland breezes freshly blow, 
 MingHng with the flowers below 
 
 Their soft perfume. • 
 
 Nurt'ringthe turf to deeper hue, 
 And imaging the sky's rich blue 
 
 In minor clear — 
 Transparent streams should purl around 
 Sweet requiems, murmuring o'er the mound. 
 
 In their career. 
 
 At morn, when fair, with rays divine, 
 Our glorious sun should o'er me shine. 
 
 Cheering and bright ! 
 And each clear night, the paler beam 
 Of moon or stars above me gleam. 
 
 With silvery light. 
 
 Such be the place of my repose, 
 
 When Death shall end life's cares and woes ! 
 
 Verses sent to a ^'riend, witli some Birtli-day Pyes#ifit8« 
 
 Whene'er you view these trifling toys. 
 Remember one who loves most dearly. 
 
 Yourself, your daughter, aad your boys — 
 And makes the following wish sincerely : 
 
 May gentle Peace your steps attend, 
 And laughing Pleasure meet your call! 
 
 May Heav'nly Grace on you descend, 
 Prolific as the dews that fall ! 
 
 May this and all your birth-days prove, 
 That friends are numerous and true! 
 
 Eager to shew by gifts of love. 
 Affection and esteem for y^-'i ! 
 
266 
 
 AN ADIEU TO "INGL.ESIDE," 
 
 The Seat o/'Henrt Carrington, Esq., in Charlotte Co., Va. 
 
 Farewell, sweet Ingle^ide ! farewell ! 
 To thee and all who in thee dwell. 
 
 Whose happv home thou art ; 
 The pleasant hours that I have spent 
 Withm thy halls, where reigns content, 
 
 Are graven on my heart. 
 
 May birds with music cheer thy bowers, 
 Thy garden teem with choicest flowers. 
 
 Fruits flourish on thy trees ! 
 And sportive streamlets wend their way 
 Among thy hills, beneath the play 
 
 Of light and healthful breeze ! 
 
 Green be thy woods ! and bright thy skies ! 
 And rich thy harvests in supplies 
 
 Whenever they come round ! 
 And to thine inmates dear and kind, 
 With generous hearts and minds refined, 
 
 May Heavenly gifts abound ! 
 o 
 
 IMPROMTU STANZAS^ 
 
 Written after a conversation concerning the Pleasures and Pains 
 
 of Memory, 
 
 'Tis sweet to muse o'er Memory's page. 
 E'en should we trace each line with tears ; 
 
 Or smile as it recalls the age 
 
 Of happy childhood, voii of cares: 
 
 When hearts were blithesome, warm and true. 
 
 Not sullied by a worldly feeling; 
 But pure as drops of morning dew. 
 
 Over violet blossoms stealing. 
 
 Then Time stole by with footsteps Hght, 
 And ecatter'd roses as he fled : 
 
267 
 
 So thomless, sweet and lieav'nly bright ? 
 A radiance on Life's path they shed. 
 
 There are who'd taste of Lethes' stream, 
 Not so would I — I love the past ! 
 
 And grief, or joy, be Mem'ry's theme, 
 I'll woo her poesy to the last. 
 
 SONG, 
 
 Writien hy request^ for a little girl to sing at a Fancy Ball, in 
 character of a Siviss Peasant selling Love-hnots. 
 
 Tune — *^ Yankee Doodle. ^^ 
 
 Who'll buy Love-knots ? here they are. 
 
 For all who wish to marry — 
 For the Brave and for the Fair ; 
 
 Come buy, and do not tarry. 
 
 For the old and for the young, 
 
 Who are in lone condition ; 
 Whose wedding-bells have never rung, 
 
 Here now is competition. 
 
 Then Lads and Lassies heed my call, 
 
 Approach, and do not tarry ! 
 If ye are in sly Cupid's thrall. 
 
 Sure, now's the time to marry. 
 
 Come buy, come buy ! do not delay, 
 
 Time, fast away is stealing ; 
 And I can here no longer stay, 
 
 If vainly I'm appealing. 
 
268 
 
 A TEMPERANCE SOKG, 
 
 Written by request of the Musical Editor oj the ^^ Lady^s Book.' 
 
 Let's away to the spring, the clear cold spring, 
 
 With its water so pure and so bright ! 
 Where early at morn, the lark plumes her wing, 
 
 Ere she soars to the regions of light : 
 Flutt'ring away so cheerily ! 
 Trilling her notes so merrily 
 
 As she soars to the regions of light. 
 
 To the spring — to the spring! — the limpid spring. 
 
 Where the diamond-like bubbles arise, 
 As sparkling and bright as a jewelled ring. 
 
 And twinkling like stars in the skies. 
 Commingling, O so cheerily ! 
 Then scatt'ring away so merrily ! 
 
 And twinkling like stars in the skies. 
 
 Our thirst let us quench at the healthful spring, 
 
 'Tis refreshing as nectar divine ! 
 No more of the grape's ruddy juice we'll sing, 
 
 Nor partake of its treacherous wine. 
 We quaff it off so cheerily ! 
 And then repent so wearily ! 
 
 Of drinking the treacherous wine. 
 
 Then hurrah for the spring, the cooling spring I 
 
 And farewell to the brain-heating bowl ! 
 Its madd'ning contents to the dust we'll fling, 
 
 And our names on the Pledge we'll erirol. 
 When ** Sons of Temperance," cheerily 
 We'll form our ranks, and merrily 
 
 -Hoist her flag, wliich our names shall ewrul. 
 
p 
 
 269 
 
 VERSES WRITTEN BY REQUEST FOR 
 
 A MAY-DAY COROIVATION. 
 
 Scene ; A garden-A group of young girls surrounding a rustic 
 throne, upon which one is seated- Another advances, holding a 
 ^ 7wsegay and a crown of flowers, and addresses her as follows : 
 
 WeVe chosen thee our Queen of May, 
 
 This golden smiHng happy day I 
 
 And with these flowers, bright and gay. 
 
 Some of thy virtues will portray. 
 
 This Lily with its snowy bell, 
 Secluded in its leafy dell, 
 (Like ancient hermit in his cell,) 
 Of thy modesty doth tell. 
 
 This little Violet so blue, 
 This fragrant rose of beauteous hue, 
 Still wet with pearly drops of dew, 
 Humility and sweetness shew. 
 
 And by this sprig of Box so green, 
 And this of Myrtle smooth and sheen, 
 And rich in blossoms, — may be seen. 
 Thy constancy and truth, fair Queen, 
 
 Upon this bud, now cast thine eyes, 
 'Tis a Camelia, and implies, 
 That in thy heart soft pity lies. 
 That tender link in human ties. 
 
 Thus having by these emblems shewn. 
 
 The gentle virtues, one by one ; 
 
 Which to all present be it known, (looking round) 
 
 Have thee entitled to this throne. 
 
 We offer thee the flow'rs, (presenting them,) and now, 
 Placing this crown upon thy brow, (putting on the wreath) 
 Before thee with due homage bow, (bowing,) 
 ALnd love and fealty avow. 
 u 
 
270 
 
 GUITAR SONG. 
 
 Awake those notes again ! 
 Repeat that silvery strain : 
 They tell of pleasure past, 
 Of joys that did not last, 
 Withered by grief's cold blast. 
 
 Then strike the light Guitar ! 
 
 Ah, strike the light Guitar ! 
 
 As evening's shadows fall, 
 Let melody recall 
 Those hours of pure delight, 
 When all hfe's hopes were bright 
 As stars that gem the night. 
 
 Then strike the light Guitar ! 
 
 Ah, strike the light Guitar ! 
 
 While each soft cadence flows, 
 My spirit will repose 
 And dream of that blest land. 
 That distant, golden strand. 
 Where home's dear tuiTcts stand. 
 
 Then strike the hght Guitar ! 
 
 Ah, sti'ike the light Guitar ! 
 
 Tho' clouds of sorrow lower. 
 Yet hath thy touch the power 
 To calm this troubled breast, 
 And soothe my soul to rest, 
 So long by care opprest. 
 
 Then strike the light Guitar ! 
 
 Ah, strike the light Guitar I 
 
271 
 
 THE POLKA SONG. 
 
 Come, hie we to the Linden-tree, 
 That stands upon the verdant lea ; 
 It is the place for mirth and glee — 
 The place for yon, dear ! and for me. 
 
 Then haste we to the Linden-tree, 
 That pleasant spot upon the lea ; 
 And there we'll dance so merrily 
 Beneath the Linden- tree. 
 
 When tired, we'll seek the cooling shade, 
 Fanned by the zephyrs of the glade; 
 A tender youth and gentle maid. 
 In nature's rarest charms arrayed. 
 
 Then haste we, &c» 
 
 I'll tell thee, too, a tale of love. 
 Pure as the azure skies above, 
 >Soft as the cooings of the dove 
 Which nestles in the neighb'ring grove. 
 Then haste we, &:c. 
 
 CANZONET. 
 
 Though she loves another dearly. 
 And no kindness shews to me, 
 
 Yet my heart is her's sincerely, 
 Never more can it be free ! 
 
 Oft to her my thoughts are straying, 
 Yet she seldom thinks of me ; 
 
 Cease, fond heart, thyself betraying, 
 Let her not thine anguish see. 
 
 Could I win her love, what pleasure 
 Might be mine forever more ! 
 
 It would prove to me a treasure, 
 Richer thnn Golconda^s store ! 
 
272 
 
 The Page's Serenade of Mary, Ctueeii of Scot«r. 
 
 The brightest stars now gem the sky, 
 
 And moon-beams ghtter on the lake ; 
 Save where Loch-Levin's turrets high, 
 
 A dark and lengthened shadow make. 
 Pvefreshing odors scent the air, 
 
 Exhaling from some mossy dell, 
 Where blossom flow Vets wild and fair. 
 
 And grows the lovely Scotch bhie-bell. 
 
 Sweet Queen, awake? 
 
 ^olian music floats along. 
 
 In plaintive murmurs on the gale ; 
 . As if the zephyrs in their song. 
 
 Thy sad captivity bewail. 
 The scene is beautiful to view ! 
 
 The murmured music sweet to hear f 
 Then rise, fair Queen ! one follower true^ 
 Thy faithful minstrel, lingers near. 
 
 Fair Queen, arise. 
 
 Without thy presence, what to me 
 
 Are nature's charms, or music's voice T 
 With thine united they must be, 
 
 To make this pensive heart rejoice. 
 Ah! then, sweet sov'reign ! from thy tower,. 
 
 Look out upon the skies and earth ; 
 And add to theirs, thy beauty's power, 
 
 To call the minstrel's raptures forth ! 
 
 Sweet Queen, arise! 
 
273 
 
 CHARADES. 
 
 No. 1. 
 My first you'll find is either tasteless, bitter, sour or sweet. 
 And we are told it flourished once in Eden's fair retreat, 
 My second is of divers kinds, and found all over earth ; 
 'Tis smooth, 'tis rough, 'tis tall, 'tis short, and to my first gave birth. 
 My whole is common to this soil ; 
 It seldom needs the laborer's toil, 
 And often is the school-boy's spoil. 
 
 No. 2. 
 Pronounce my first, and 'twill appear 
 That I'm a twelfth part of the year ; 
 And mine the pleasant task to bring 
 The choicest fruits and flowers of Spring. 
 My second is a title given 
 To young or old — a boon from Heaven, 
 Which yet, if wicked or perverse, 
 May prove no blessing, but a curse. 
 My whole denotes a man of trade, 
 And one of secret art, 'tis said, 
 Belonging to a Brotherhood 
 Known in the world to do much good. 
 
 No. 3. 
 My first will make a coward tremble, 
 My next will beaux and belles assemble, 
 My whole does mischief far and near, 
 And causes, oft, affliction's tear. 
 
 No. 4. 
 My first is Heaven born, 
 My second a child of earth. 
 My whole a fragile form. 
 Which dies soon after birth. 
 
 No. 5. 
 My first o^er earth soft radiance diffusing, 
 Inclines thi» Heaven-bom mind to Heavenly mufing ; 
 
271 
 
 And erst it was an idol, at whose shrine 
 The Heathen bowed in Egypt's glowing clime. 
 My second swiftly darts from pole to pole, 
 Bright to the eye as Hope is to the soul ! 
 My whole embellishes, with magic power, 
 A peasant's cottage or a monarch's tower ! 
 
 Kg. 6. 
 My first and second and whole are frail ! 
 From alU the same sweet odors exhale, 
 Which often perfume the summer gale ; 
 Nor are tints more beauteous seen in Heaven, 
 When Phoebus brightly sinks at even', 
 Than those kind Nature to each has given. 
 
 No. 7. 
 My first is seen in rain and hail — 
 In ocean, mountain, plain and vale ; 
 If books you read or letters write, 
 In every page it meets your sight. 
 My second rears a verdant crest, 
 And wears a glossy, silken vest — 
 Is oft an epicurean treat, 
 And yet a torture most complete. 
 My whole sometimes in air is found ; 
 Anon, one spies it on the ground : 
 *Tis of a giant race, yet small — 
 Like pride it towers, then has its fall. 
 
 No. 8. 
 My first is used in solemn rites, 
 And many a happy pair unites. 
 My second forms the miser's care, 
 And oft, 'tis said, has won the fair. 
 My first and second, when combined, 
 A gallant soldier brings to mind, 
 AVho bravely fought, then life did yield, 
 On De la Palma's battle field ; 
 Whose loss Columbia deplored, 
 Whose deeds are in her annals stored .^ 
 
276 
 
 Ans^vers to tlie Cliarades and to tfaie Kuignia. 
 
 No. 
 
 1.- 
 
 — Apple-tree. 
 
 No. 
 
 5.- 
 
 — Moon-light 
 
 No. 
 
 2.- 
 
 — Ma-son. 
 
 No. 
 
 6.- 
 
 — Rose-bud. 
 
 No. 
 
 3.- 
 
 — Cannon-ball. 
 
 No. 
 
 7.- 
 
 — A -corn. 
 
 No. 
 
 4.- 
 
 —Star-flower. 
 
 No. 
 
 8.- 
 
 —Ring-gold. 
 
 Enigma. — The letter A. 
 
 "Enteted, according to the Act of Congress, by the Author, on the irth of May, 186S, m th« Cl»rk'» offi«« o( 
 the Dwtriot Conrt of the United State* in and for the Eastern district of Virginia. 
 
 II 
 
 Z91 
 

 
 
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