in classing the different luminous bodies, in calculating unknown worlds, the most fertile mind cannot accomplish the simplest addition. If by means of this mound we climb to the top of this overthrown chapiter, the moon will present to your view this magnificent square called formerly that of Louis XV. Revolution, now that of Concord.

since that of the There the demon

of discord preluded the judicial massacres by the fatal accidents, which cast a gloomy veil on the nuptials of Louis XVI. What a sinister connection! It would seem as if the victims of mourning, who perished on that day, had come to prepare the king a place near them in this churchyard, where their bones were deposited!......Behold the avenue, through which the intimidated monarch was dragged in a popular car. Why did he continue to command a people, who no longer knew how to obey? This gilded cupola, which you discern in the distant horizon, appears like the beacon of insurrection. Under those vaults, some unskilful and unknown hand concealed a variety of instruments of death and vengeance, they became the means of independence, but subsequently of carnage.

Our eyes, insensibly, after casting circuitous glances from the quay of the Theatins, rendered famous by the apotheosis of Voltaire, resting awhile on the windows of the former prison of the royal family, turned again towards the national bridge, and indulged in the perspective of the enchanting groves of the Tuileries, which had often been the rendezvous of conspirators and finally, on that superb palace, the magnificent and dangerous theatre, from which the monarch and the revolutionary chiefs, who succeeded him, de scended to mount the scaffold. Not far from thence, I observed the celebrated riding school, from whence, as from the cavern of Eolus, the passions, which have devastated the republic, broke loose. It was on that forum of assassination, that the axe quelled them all, and we tread on the sod which devoured their organs. May those, whom Providence permitted to survive, listen to the eloquent lessons, which their coffins inculcate! May they be convinced, that that government alone has stability, which renders a people happy!

But let us reenter the mansion of the dead, and if the coolness of this charming night injures you not,

let us go and take a seat at the foot of that mournful statue, partly concealed under the drooping boughs of the weeping willow. Then I will impart to you the sad recital of the sufferings of a family, whose greatest guilt was that of being seated on a throne.

The noble and majestic features, the regular and interesting physiognomy, the moving and melancholy tone of M. DE FERMONT, and not less than all that, the moral sensations, which he had awakened in my soul, had plunged me into a tender, delicious, and inexpressible revery. A sweet delusion made me fancy myself transported to the summit of those massy mountains, inhabited by spirits, whose concerts were echoed by the harp of Ossian. What a sublime night!.... What an impressive silence! The exhausted moon had poured the last drops from her luminous urn inclined towards the clouds, whilst the mantle of night strewed with the numberless suns, which fill the firmament, sparkled with unusual splendor, a soft breath of wind undulated the poplars, gently agitated the yielding boughs, and excited a modulation through their foliage not unlike the dying sounds of a soft flute. Had not

the bell metal, which announces the periodical return of time, warned me that I was still watching, I should have fancied myself abused by a delusive dream. The recollection of horrid crimes, the presence of the victims, had excited my indignation; the voice of the virtuous Fermont revived in my soul emotions of pity. Angelic pity, the tears which thou provokest embalma the wounds of a broken heart; revenge, with its heart of steel, its brazen forehead, softens before thee; one of thy glances loosens the chains, which anger had rivetted on its victims, and thou compellest the most bitter enemies to fly into each others arms, at the moment that the drawn dagger meditates the most foul designs. Angelic daughter of Deity, guide my pen through this recital, and inspire the hearts of my readers. Let us cast the weapons of revenge on these tombs. The manes, which inhabit them, no longer thirst after blood; the only sacrifices that we owe them are innocent flowers bedewed with our tears. When we were seated, M. de Fermont proceeded thus;

My intercourse with the royal family of France commenced at the end of December, 1791. Being

D

born an Irishman, and having no living in France, since the episcopal see of Paris, of which I was vicar, had become vacated by the forced retreat of Bishop de Juigné, but being retained in this country by my friendship for the son of lord Fitz Asland, whose education I had undertaken, I was not restrained by any of the obligations imposed on the clergy by the new laws. Louis XVI. opposed, through conscientious motives, to those ministers called constitutional clergymen, was deprived of the services of those, whom a jealous constitution strictly refused him, because they had not taken the oath. When the too famous debate, which he occasioned, was agitated, although I was a stranger to it, as well as to the country, I had thought proper to publish certain sentiments calculated to unite public opinion, and conciliate all pretensions. My effort was ineffectual; for what can avail the voice of a moderate man crying for peace, amidst the vociferations of a multitude crying for war? Nevertheless, chance having placed my pamphlet before his Majesty's eyes, and as my signature indicated my residence, he thought fit to send for me, to express his gracious approbation of