ed the shades of colour, nor a musician all the qualities of sounds. The slightest alterations of the complexion, of the colour of the eyes and lips, the different intonations of the voice, the smallest differences in the muscles of the face, fixed his attention. Even the variations of the breath and transpiration were carefully measured by him, and, in the judgment which he formed, nothing of all this was a matter of indifference. The innumerable openings of bodies, which he had made, had enabled him to remark the correspondence of the slightest external appearances with the internal lesions. He is said to have distinguished, at the distance of several beds, the disease of an individual that had just come to the hospital; and, with respect to the disorganizations of the heart, and great vessels in particular, he had attained to a truly wonderful accuracy of divination. His decisions were irrevocable, like those of destiny. Not only did he predict the fate that awaited each patient, and the period at which the catastrophe was to happen, but he gave, beforehand, the measure of the swellings, dilatations, and contractions of all the parts; and the opening of the bodies scarcely ever refuted his announcements. The most experienced, it is said, were utterly astonished by them. His two principal works, the Treatise on the Diseases of the Heart,* and the Commentary on Auenbrugger, are celebrated testimonies of the manner and genius of M. Corvisart. In the first, the inflammations of the pericardium, the dropsies which fill its cavity, the thickening and attenuation of the walls either of the heart in general, or of each of its cavities, the hardening of its tissue, its ossification, its conversion into fat, the contraction of its orifices, its tumours, its inflammations, and its rup. tures, are presented, together with their melancholy symptoms, and their fatal results, with an order and clearness that nothing in medicine can surpass. This book so occupied the minds of the young physicians who were eager for instruction, and their imagination was so powerfully struck by it, that, for some time, it is said, they saw nothing but diseases of the heart, as at other times, they have seen every where gravel, bile, asthenia, or inflammations. The effect which it would have on the sick would be still more cruel. His epigraph itself, Hæret lateri lethalis arundo, tells how disheartening the reading of it is; but medical books are not made for those who are not physicians; and it is well that those who are so, should know positively when nothing remains for them to do. This unhappy certainty prevents them at least from tormenting their patients with useless remedies.

In the Commentary on Auenbrugger, it is the diseases of the chest, the fluids which fill its cavity, the tumours which obstruct the bronchia, or the cellules of the lungs, that he teaches us to distinguish, by the different sounds which the walls of that cavity emit when struck. The form given to this work ought to be remarked as the proof of a noble generosity. In it M. Corvisart sacrificed his fame, a kind of property of which men are less disposed to be lavish than of any other, to a delicate feeling of justice towards an unknown individual, and one who had been long dead. He had already, from the suggestions of his own mind, made most of the experiments contained in this commentary, and had intended to collect them in a single work, when there fell into his hands a dissertation, published in 1763, by a physician of Vienna, translated in 1770 by a French physician, and yet almost entirely forgotten, in which he found part of what he had observed. I could have sacrificed Avenbrugger's name, says he, to my own vanity, but I did not choose to do so: it is his beau

tiful and legitimate discovery that I wish to
revive.

These words of themselves describe a cha-
racter. No one, in fact, was more free, more
open, more unassuming; nor could any person
be less occupied with himself. Placed so near
the man whose word was all-powerful, and at the
time when so many prerogatives were brought
back by little and little, which were of advan
tage only to those who were decorated with
them, how easily could he have obtained for
himself the restoration of the ancient privi-
leges conceded to first physicians, so lucra-
tive, but so useless, it may even be said so
hurtful, sometimes to the real progress of
medicine.

M. Corvisart had applied on himself his inexorable talent of foresight, and had obtained from it but a very melancholy augury. His conformation, and the instance of his father, had given him a presentiment of the apoplexy which threatened him, and which did not fail to come on nearly at the time that he had foretold it. This cruel disease at first only affected his motions; his judgment remained sound, and the first use which he made of it was to renounce all exercise of his art, and give himself up entirely to repose. But this precaution delayed only for a very short time an attack which proved fatal. He died on the 18th September, 1821, leaving no family.

His place in the Academy of Sciences has been filled up by M. Magendie, and his chair in the College of France had for several years been occupied by M. Hallé.

limited, he had not some opportunities of giving him advice that might have been useful to himself, and have perhaps spared some of the blood of Europe? It is certain that he did not allow himself to sink so much as many personages who appeared externally in a higher position, and that whenever, for example, the master showed a disposition to banter him on his profession, a smart reply quickly checked the attempt; but it is also certain, that he never conversed about any thing of general interest. On matters of indifference, every familiarity was allowed him; but a cold look, or a harsh word, stopped him the moment he tried to break this circle. He himself related, that, at the period of a birth, which, coming But he was sensible that at the height which especially from such a marriage, seemed calcuthe sciences had reached, the exclusive influ-lated to satisfy the most ambitious hopes, he ence of one individual, were he the most skil- permitted himself to ask if any thing more ful in his profession, could only restrain their could be desired. Toujours Champenois Docflight. So far was he from wishing to gain any teur! was the only reply he received, and the pre-eminence, that he did not take a higher speaker turned his back. rank in his hospital than was due to him in point of seniority. On the other hand, contrary to the example of those zealous persons who think they shine so much the more when they are surrounded only by obscure individuals, he appointed to the different situations in the medical house the physicians who enjoyed most reputation in the city. There were in the number some who had written and spoken against him; for even this was not to him a motive of hesitation. Those whose memory alone remained to be honoured, the Bichats and the Dessaults, obtained, at his solicitation, monuments, the only mark which he wished to leave of the favour which he enjoyed. I forget, he has given another,-in founding at his own expense, in the Faculty, prizes for the young persons who distinguish themselves by good clinical observations. It has been remarked that many men, on attaining distinction, have remembered the obstacles which Peculiar Cultivation of Potatoes.-A French poverty opposed to them in their early years, soldier placed half a dozen potatoes at the and by a very natural feeling have sought to bottom of a cask upon a layer of sand and render less difficult the progress of some of fresh earth, three or four inches thick; when their successors. M. Corvisart was led to this the stalks had risen a few inches, he bent the more willingly, that to his enthusiasm for them down and covered them, four or five his profession, he joined a true friendship for inches deep, with the same mixture. He conthose who were possessed of the same feeling. tinued this operation until the cask was full. He was jealous of none of his fellow practi- Six or seven months after, upon emptying the tioners, and always did them whatever services vessel, (which stood in a court-yard,) he found lay in his power. His greatest pleasure was that the half dozen potatoes had produced an to see himself surrounded by young physicians enormous quantity of new ones from the porwho exhibited talent, and it was not with his tions of the mother stems which had been sucadvice, and with his lectures alone, that he en-cessively laid down and covered.-Jour. des couraged them; he made them partake the en- Connais. Usuelles, 1829, p. 66, joyments of his fortune, and the diversions which a secret inclination to melancholy appear to have rendered necessary to him. said, that, when he had performed the duties of his profession, if he did not give himself up to the amusements of gay and enlivening society, he fell into depression of spirits, and painful melancholy; that in him the active and busy physician of the morning, became the evening of a man of pleasure, who would not permit either his art or his patients to be spoken of,—a disposition unfortunately too common among men of ardent genius, and which greatly diminished the services which M. Corvisart might have rendered to science. Without hurting his zeal for teaching, which identified itself with his passion for his art, it made him a rather negligent academician, and an unproductive author. After having keenly desired to be admitted among us, he scarcely ever assisted at our meetings. His treatise on the diseases of the heart, although his own in the ideas and in all that forms the essence of a work, did not come from his pen, but was drawn up by one of his pupils, M. Horeau; and if it may be regretted that any one should require such diversions, he was a fortunate man, who, amid all his amusements, was capable of leaving such a monument.

It is

It is asked, and the question naturally sug

Essay on the Diseases and Organic Lesions of the Heart and Large Vessels, extracted from the Clinical Lectures of M. Corvisart,gests itself with respect to many others, if, on and published under his inspection by M. E. Horeau. 1 vol 8vo. Paris, 1806, 2d edition.

the frequent occasions when professional duty
brought him near a man whose power was un-

On the Vegetating Wasp of Guadaloupe, by M. J. B. Ricord-Madianna.-Botanists and entomologists know that particular productions which have been recognised as cryptogamous plants, many of which have been referred to the genus Sphæria, are frequently met with on dead insects, and are preserved in collections; but it has been thought that these plants developed themselves on insects deprived of life. M. Ricord, however, states, that he has observed at Guadaloupe a nest of Wasps, the greatest number of which were encumbered with these excrescences. As they quitted the nest, they fell upon the ground, and could not rise again on account of the weight of the plant, which had taken root on some part or other of their body, particularly on the sternum. Having observed the larvæ contained in the cells, M. Ricord remarked, that they also had this small cryptogamous appendage, but then it was very small. This species appears to be the Sphæria entomorbiosa of the English botanists.-Journal du Pharmacie.

Militia Trainings.—A court martial was recently held at Northampton, Mass. upon some privates for disorderly conduct. One witness declared the criminals cut up “monkey tricks,” upon which an ambitious private retorted that "they were only imitating the officers!"

JACK THE SHRIMP.

BY MRS. S. C. HALL.

83

lage; poor Crab would not desert his trust, and to save him appeared impossible, even to his cular about the officers; but don't Miss, darthe master who's to dine wid ye to-day, partithe intermediate waters became deep and danmaster, who had, just descended the cliffs, as lint, don't say I bid ye; ye don't know what agony than Jack on this occasion; repeatedly gerous. I never saw any man in greater harm might come of it if ye did; it might cost me my life; besides, it would bemean ye to did he call to the faithful animal-yet it would turn informer. Now, Miss machree, young as cularly quick, but when he did comprehend, depind on your honour." I was ten years old, not quit the spot. Neptune was never parti- I'd trust wid that; and so God be wid ye, I ye are, ye'r the only one about the big house suddenly he understood the entire matter, he was prompt in doing all things for the best; plunged fearlessly among the waves, and soon and it was a glorious thing to think that a sereturned, bearing Crab between his teeth to cret (although I hardly knew in what the secret consisted,) was in my keeping, and it was the shore; not content with this exploit, he still more glorious to be told that my honour the feet of the grateful man of shrimps. I do been forbidden to speak to him. Grandmamma twice re-entered and brought, the baskets to was depended on. Jack was, moreover, a favourite with the household, and I had never words, at the moment, have walked "barefoot housekeeper in the preparation of jellies and believe the poor fellow would, to use his own and mamma were, I knew, busied with the to Jericho, to sarve me or mine." He snatch- pastries, in the manufacture of which, adhered the dripping animal to his bosom, and called it his only friend; ever after, Jack and I ing to the fashion of the good old times, they and the black cur; the latter never forgot his consequently aware that I should hardly see were intimate acquaintances. Not so Neptune in country-houses, called company days. I was themselves assisted, on those days of confusion obligations; but Neptune only returned the humble caresses of the little creature by a slighting my conversation with Jack, my biped atthem until dressed for the drawing-room. Durmovement of his stately tail, or a casting down tendant, Nelly Parrell, had been busily emyou!" of his small dark eye, as well as to say, "I see ployed in packing up my bathing dress, and attentively, until I ascended the upper cliff on locking "the box;" so she knew nothing of my way home, and then he returned to his ocJack's anxiety. I saw the old man watch me the officers from Duncannon to dinner that cupation. I did not fail to ask my grandfather, at the breakfast table, if he expected any of day; the kind man laid down "The Waterford Chronicle," which he was perusing, and smiling one of those sweet and playful smiles, that tell fulness; inquired, in his turn, if "my head more than words can do, of peace and cheerI was old enough to blush at this; but returned was beginning to think about officers already." to my point, and was told that none had been invited. Soon after I saw Jack, and little Crab, the one striding, the other trotting down the expect any officers; the old man crossed his stopped, and I told him that grandpapa did not avenue; as he passed the open casement, he bowed, and passed to the kitchen offices," May forehead, and muttered, as he reverently niver know either sin or sorrow.' heaven be y'er bed at the last, and may ye

Shrimp," I could not make out; his mornings,
Still there was something about " Jack the
from the earliest dawn, in fair or foul weather,
mid-day he attended his several customers,
were employed in catching the unwary fish; at
and in the evenings he again repaired to his
ocean spray: his general place of repose was a
haunts among the wild birds, and amid the
hollow rock, called the OTTER'S-HOLE; and
there he used to eat his lonely meal, and share
I saw him one morning, as usual, poking after
his straw bed at night, with his faithful dog.
shrimps; and was struck by the anxiety and
energy of his movements; notwithstanding his
ing every sail that appeared on the blue waters:
seeming employment, he was intensely watch-
when he saw me he rapidly approached.
and may every sunrise increase y'er happi-
"The top of the morning to ye, young lady,

SOME ten or fifteen years ago, there lived in the neighbourhood of Bannow, a long, lean, solitary man, known by no other appellation, that ever I heard of, than that of "Jack the Shrimp.' He was a wild, desolate-looking creature; black lank hair fell over his face and shoulders, and either rested in straight lines on his pale hollow cheeks, or waved gloomily in the passing breeze; his eyes were deep set and dark; and there was something almost mysterious in his deportment;-some persons imagined him to be an idiot; but others, who knew Jack better, asserted that his intellects were of a superior order; however, as few enjoyed the privilege of his acquaintance, the former opinion prevailed. Jack could be found every where, except in a dwelling-house; he had a singular antipathy to dry or sheltered abodes; and never appeared at home, except when on the rocky sea-shore, scrambling up the cliffs, or in clear weather, looking out for the scattered vessels that passed into Waterford harbour. Nobody seemed to know how he came to our isolated neighbourhood; his first appearance had created a good deal of village gossip, but that had gone by, and his gentle and kindly manner endeared him to the peasantry; the affectionate greeting of "God save ye" "God save ye kindly,"-was frequently exchanged between the solitary shrimp-gatherer, (for such was Jack's ostensible employment,) and the merry "boys and girls" who, at all seasons, collect sea-weed, and burn it into kelp, on the sea-shore. Often have I seen him in the early morning, at low water, his bare, lank legs tramping over the moist sand, or mid-way in the rippling wave; his pole, some six feet long, the net full of shrimps at one end, and the heavy hook at the other, balancing it over one shoulder, while from the opposite were suspended two wicker baskets frequently filled with lobsters, or smaller shell-fish, which he contrived to hook out, of their holes with extraordinary dexterity. The sole companion of his rambles was a little black-I really know not what to call it so as to distinguish its tribe -but it may be sufficient to state that it was a black ugly dog; who, by way of economy, usually walked upon three legs, was blind of an eye, and, like its master, lonely in its habits, and shy in its demeanour. This animal, who appropriately enough answered to the name of Crab, was the means of my introduction to its taciturn lord. Even in childhood I was devotedly attached to the sea; somewhat amphibious; fond, when I dare, of getting off my shoes and stockings, and dabbling in the fairy pools which the receding ocean left in the hollow clefts of the rocks; and fonder still of chasing the waves as they rolled along the sloping beach. My affection for this dangerous amusement was so well known, that I was never permitted to go to the strand, although it was considerably within a mile of our house, unattended by an old steady dependant of the family. But there was another who loved to accompany me on all my excursions; my noble favourite Neptune, a tall, stately, Newfoundland dog, thoughtful and sagacious. It was not to be supposed that so highborn an animal would condescend to associate with a low-bred tyke; and no mark of recognition, that ever I perceived, passed between him and Crab, any more than between myself and the shrimp-gatherer, who, I dare say, thought a noisy laughing girl of ten, a sad disturber of his solitude. One morning, during spring-tide, having just bathed, I had quitted the box to take my accustomed stroll along the shore; when, on a rock a considerable distance from land, and which the inflowing rapid waves were covering fast, I saw and heard poor Crab in evident disHis lip curled in bitter scorn as he uttered tress: the fact was, that part of his master's dark under the shadow of his beetle brows. the last sentence, and his eyes grew brightly tackle wanted some alteration; and Jack, forgetting it was spring-tide, had placed his lob- the master himself, dear-ax the master if any After a moment's pause, he continued, "Ax ster baskets on a high rock, and directed his of the officers are to be wid ye; the housedog to watch them until his return from the vil-keeper won't know-that she won't-just ax

ness."

"Thank ye, Jack; have you caught many
shrimps this morning?"

would'nt have much company at the big house
"Yarra no, my lannan-sorra a many-Ye
to day?"

"I believe we expect some friends."

quired, looking at me, while his sunken eyes
"Ye wouldn't know their names?" he in-
sparkled with feelings which I could not un-
derstand.

Cawthorne, and father Mike, and the rector."
"Some, Jack, I know-Mr. Amble and Mr.
"Any of the red-coat officers from Duncan-
non, Agra?"

Poor Jack! I have often since thought of his benediction. Dinner was at last over, and feet of one or two horses were heard clattering dessert fairly placed upon the table, when the into the court-yard; and, in a few seconds, the servant announced the captain of the detachment of a regiment then quartered at Duncannon; a gentleman who accompanied him, but who was not announced, entered at the same time; he was a gigantic, gloomy, harsh-looking man, and when the servant retired, the "Are ye sure?" he continued, peering earofficer introduced him as Mr. Loffont, the new wouldn't tell a lie to poor ould Jack, Miss, darnestly into my face, "Ye wouldn't, sure you chief of the Featherd and Duncannon police. lint,-you, whom he'd go tin pilgrimages to This man was universally disliked in the country, and Captain Gore knew it well; he in sarve if ye were to die to-morrow;-you, who both, by stating, he had been that morn. some measure apologised for the intrusion of have so often spoken kindly to him, when y'ering called upon by Mr. Loffont, to give assistmaid-sure ye wouldn't desave me, mavourvoice fell on his ear, like the song of a mer. neen!"

"Not that I know of."

you on the subject-the matter cannot concern
"Indeed, Jack, there is no reason to deceive
you; but, to make your mind perfectly easy, 1
expected, and I will let you know when you
will ask the housekeeper; she knows who are
bring the lobsters to the house."

head; sure d'ye think I'm such an ould fool
"God bless ye, and God help y'er innocent
entirely to be bothering myself about what's no
business of mine?-may be, like the rest, ye
think me a natural?"

smugglers, which was that night expected on ance to the police, in a rencontre with the our side the coast: this was, I-believe, unwelmight happen to my poor friend, the shrimpcome intelligence to all, but to none more than myself; an undefined dread of some evil that the astonishment of grandmamma, even my gatherer, took possession of my mind; and to informed the company that he expected some that when the ladies withdrew, Captain Gore pine-apple was untasted. I have since learnt, of his men to meet them at the termination of our oak belting; and, he added, "he was convinced Mr. Herriott would render every assistagreed to go to the beach with the soldiers beHerriott was peaceably inclined, and only ance to the king's men in such a cause." mediator between the parties. Well do I remember the breathless anxiety with which I cause he thought it likely he might act as a watched for his passing through the great

Mr.

LAUSANNE.

(Concluded from page 79.)

ment, and she went on louder: "Have you
not heard, I say, that I am a woman of ge-
nius?" Coachee-was still mute. "Well, then!
I tell you that I am a woman of genius-of
great genius-of prodigious genius! and I tell
you more, that all the genius I have shall be
exerted to secure your rotting out your days
in a dungeon, if ever you overturn my father!"
Even after the fit was over, she could not be
made to laugh at her extravagance, and said,
"And what had I to conjure with but my poor
genius?"

It is singular, that though her youth was
passed amidst the most enchanting scenery of
Switzerland, Madame de Stael had little relish
for its charms. "Give me the Rue de Bac,"
said she to a person who was expatiating on
the beauties of the Lake of Geneva; "I would
prefer living in Paris, in a fourth story, with a
hundred louis a year."

Richel, her father's ordinary coachman, she exclaimed, in an agony, "My God! he may one day overturn my father!" and rung inLausanne and its neighbourhood are also stantly with violence for his appearance. rendered illustrious by their having afforded a While he was coming, she paced about the residence to Necker and his most celebrated room in the greatest possible agitation, crying daughter. In a country house, near Lausanne, out at every turn, "My father! my poor before he removed to Coppet, Necker com- father! he might have been overturned!" posed his "Treatise on the Administration of and turning to her friend, "at your age, and the Finances," and it was here that Gibbon with your slight person, the danger is nothing; became acquainted with the ex-minister. At but with his age and bulk, I cannot bear to that period Mademoiselle Necker was only a think of it." The coachman now came in; gay and giddy girl. "Mademoiselle Necker," and this lady, usually so mild, and indulgent, says the historian in a letter to Lord Sheffield, and reasonable with all her attendants, turned "one of the greatest heiresses in Europe, is to him in a sort of frenzy, and in a voice of now about eighteen, wild, vain, but good-na- solemnity, but choked with emotion, said, tured, with a much greater provision of wit "Richel! do you know that I am a woman of than of beauty." It does not appear that Gib-genius?" The poor man stood in astonishbon at this time appreciated the talents and the genius which afterwards shone forth so brilliantly in the writings and conversation of Madame de Stael. Not unfrequently the Neckers visited the historian in his humble mansion, where the great financier conversed freely with him on the subject of his adminis tration and his fall. Occasionally also, Gibbon spent a few days with his friends at Coppet, and the correspondence, which has been published, between himself and Madame Necker, proves the very amicable terms on which they stood to one another, and from which, perhaps, the recollection of their youthful attachment did not detract. In visiting the scenes formerly illustrated by the lofty genius and graceful society of Madame de Stael, the traveller will regret that there is no adequate memoir of a person so truly distinguished. "Some one," it is well observed by Lord Byron, "some one of all those whom the charms of involuntary wit and of easy hospitality attracted within the friendly circles of Coppet, should rescue from oblivion those virtues which, although they are said to love the shade, are in fact, more frequently chilled than excited by the domestic cares of private life. Some one should be found to portray the unaffected graces with which she adorned those dearer relationships, the performance of whose duties is rather discovered amongst the interior secrets than seen in the outward management of family intercourse; and which indeed it requires the delicacy of genuine affection to qualify for the eye of an indifferent spectator. Some one should be found, not to celebrate, but to describe the amiable mistress of an open mansion, the centre of a society ever varied and always pleased, the creator of which, divested of the ambition and the arts of public rivalry, shone forth only to give fresh animation to those around her. The mother, tenderly affectionate and tenderly beloved; the friend, unboundedly generous, but still esteemed; the charitable patroness of all distress, cannot be forgotten by those whom she cherished, and protected, and fed. Her loss will be mourned the most where she was known the best; and to the sorrow of very many friends, and of more dependents, may be offered the disinterested regret of a stranger, who, amidst the sublime scenes of the Leman lake, received his chief satisfaction from contemplating the engaging qualities of the incomparable Corinna."

Many amusing and interesting anecdotes of Madame de Stael are, however, given in the "Notice" prefixed to her "Euvres inedites" by Madame Necker Saussure. From her we learn that the wild, vain, but good-natured" Mademoiselle Necker actually proposed to her parents that she should marry Mr. Gibbon in order that they might secure the uninterrupted enjoyment of his society! Her devotion to her father is said almost to have amounted to idolatry, as the following anecdote will sufficiently prove. Madame Necker Saussure had come to Coppet from Geneva in M. Necker's carriage, and had been overturned on the way, but without receiving any injury. On mentioning the accident to Madame de Stael on her arrival, she asked, with great vehemence, who had driven; and on being told that it was

M. Simond has sketched with considerable ability the character of this celebrated woman. "I had seen Madame de Stael a child, and I saw her again on her death-bed. The intermediate years were spent in another hemis. phere, as far as possible from the scenes in which she lived. Mixing again, not many months since, with a world in which I am a stranger, and feel I shall remain so, I just saw this celebrated woman, and heard as it were her last words, as I had read her works before, uninfluenced by any local bias. Perhaps the impressions of a man thus dropped from another world into this may be deemed something like those of posterity. Madame de Stael lived for conversation; she was not happy out of a large circle, and a French circle, where she could be heard in her own language to the best advantage. Her extravagant admiration of the Paris society was neither more nor less than genuine admiration of herself; it was the best mirror she could get, and that was all. Ambitious of all sorts of notoriety, she would have given the world to have been noble and a beauty; yet there was in this excessive vanity so much honesty and frankness, it was so void of affectation and trick, she made so fair and so irresistible an appeal to your own sense of her worth, that what would have been laughable in any one else was almost respectable in her. That ambition of eloquence, so conspicuous in her writings, was much less observable in her conversation; there was more abandon in what she said than in what she wrote; while speaking, the spontaneous inspiration was no labour but all pleasure; conscious of extraordinary powers, she gave herself up to the present enjoyment of the deep things, and the good things, flowing in a full stream from her own well-stored mind and luxuriant fancy. The inspiration was pleasure-the pleasure was inspiration; and without precisely intending it, she was every evening of her life, in a circle of company the very Corinna she depicted, although in her attempts to personify that Corinna, in her book, and make her speak in print, she utterly failed, the labour of the pen extinguishing the fancy."

An amusing anecdote is related by M. Simond of the early wit and vivacity which disguished Madame de Stael. "While at Cop

pet, an anecdote told us by an intimate friend of the family (M. de Bonstetten) recurred to me. He was then five-and-twenty, she a sprightly child of five or six years old; and walking about the grounds as we were then doing, he was struck with a switch from behind a tree; turning round he observed the little rogue laughing. "Maman veut," she called out, que je me serve de la main gauche, et j'essayois!"

Among the literary associations which Lausanne affords, it must not be forgotten that it was the last residence of that very amiable and highly accomplished man, John Philip Kemble.

A few miles distant from Lausanne is the small town of Vevay, a place which, like a thousand other places near it, is associated with the recollection of one of the most singular and highly-gifted men of modern times, who has peopled these beautiful regions with the undying offspring of his own imagination. "J'allai à Vevay loger à la Clef," says Rousseau, "et pendant deux jours que j'y restai sans voir personne, je pris pour cette ville un amour que n'a suivi dans tous mes voyages, et qui m'y a fait établir enfin les heros de mon roman. Je dirois volontiers à ceux qui ont du goût et qui sont sensibles-allez à Vevai-visitez le pays, examinez les sites, promenez vous sur le lac, et dites si la Nature n'a pas fait ce beau pays pour une Julie, pour une Claire, et pour un St. Preux; mais ne les y cherchez pas." Lord Byron, with equal rapture, has celebrated this favoured spot in verse and in prose:

'Twas not for fiction chose Rousseau this
spot,

Peopling it with affections; but he found
It was the scene which passion must allot
To the mind's purified beings; 'twas the
ground

Where early Love his Pysche's zone un-
bound,

And hallow'd it with loveliness: 'tis lone,
And wonderful, and deep, and hath a sound
And sense, and sight of sweetness; here the
Rhone

Hath spread himself a couch, the Alps have

rear'd a throne.

In reference to the passage from Rousseau 1816, I made a voyage round the Lake of Gejust given, Lord Byron has said, "In July, neva, and as far as my own observations have led me in a not uninterested nor inattentive survey of all the scenes most celebrated by Rousseau in his 'Heloise,' I can safely say that in this there is no exaggeration. It would be difficult to see Clarens (with the scenes around it, Vevay, Chillon, Boveret, St. Gingo, Meillerie, Eivan, and the entrance of the Rhone,) adaptation to the persons and events with without being forcibly struck with its peculiar which it has been peopled." In surveying these scenes, it is, indeed, painful to reflect that they were rather polluted than sanctified by the presence of those whom the genius of Rousseau has invested with qualities so graceful and so captivating. It is still more painful to know that the character of Rousseau itself exhibited the same inconsistency, presenting an external surface of romance and sentiment, beneath which festered many of the meanest and most debasing of human passions. Moore has poured out in some very spirited lines his indignation against the blind worshippers of

Rousseau.

'Tis too absurd,-'tis weakness, shame,
This low prostration before fame.-
This casting down before the car
Of idols, whatsoe'er they are,
Life's purest, holiest decencies
To be career'd o'er, as they please.
No-let triumphant genius have
All that his loftiest wish can crave:
If he be worshipp'd, let it be

For attributes, his noblest, first-
Not with that base idolatry,
Which sanctifies his last and worst.

The house in which Rousseau resided is agreeably situated in a valley surrounded with mountains; but the garden to which he alludes in his Confessions as having cultivated with his own hands, is now no longer to be traced.

At Vevay may still be seen the house in which Ludlow the Republican, one of the most honest and manly adherents of the Parliament, in their great struggle with Charles I., lived and died. The mansion stands near the gate leading to the Vallais, and over the door are inscribed the words,

OMNE SOLUM FORTI PATRIA

QUIA PATRIS.

Of his residence at Vevay, and of the infamous attempts there made to assassinate him, Ludlow has left an account in his Memoirs. The parties employed to perpetrate this crime had already succeeded in destroying Mr. Lisle, another of the regicides, who, in the language of one of the royalist writers, was "overtaken by divine vengeance at Lausanne, where the miserable wretch was shot dead by the gallantry of three Irish gentlemen, who attempt ed the surprisal of him and four more impious parricides." One of these attempted surprisals is thus related by Ludlow: "According to our information, some of the villains who were employed to destroy us had, on the 14th of November, 1663, passed the lake from Savoy in order to put their bloody design in execution the next day, as we should be going to the church. They arrived at Vevay about an hour after sunset; and having divided themselves, one part took up their quarters in one inn and the other in another. The next day, being Sunday, M. Dubois, our landlord, going early to the church, discovered a boat at the side of the lake with four watermen in her, their oars in order and ready to put off. Not far from the boat stood two persons, with cloaks thrown over their shoulders; two sitting under a tree; and two more in the same posture a little way from them. M. Dubois, concluding that they had arms under their cloaks, and that these persons had waylaid us with a design to murder us as we should be going to the sermon, pretending to have forgotten something, returned home and advised us of what he had observed. In his way to us he had met one Mr. Binet, who acquainted him that two men, whom he suspected of some bad intention, had posted themselves near his house, and that four more had been seen in the market-place; but that, finding themselves observed, they had all retired towards the lake. By this means, the way leading to the church through the town being cleared, we went to the sermon without any molestation, and said nothing to any man of what we had heard; because we had not yet certainly found that they had a design against us. Returning from church, I was informed that the suspected persons were all dining at one of the inns, which excited my curiosity to take a view of the boat. Accordingly I went with a small company and found the four watermen by the boat, the oars laid in their places, a great quantity of straw in the bottom of the boat, and all things ready to put off. About an hour after dinner, I met our landlord, and having inquired of him concerning the persons before-mentioned, he assured me they could be no other than a company of rogues; that they had arms under the straw in the boat; and that they had cut the withes that held the oars of the town-boats, to prevent any pursuit if they should be forced to fly. But these ruffians, who had observed the actions of M. Dubois, and suspected he would cause them to be seized, came down soon after I had viewed the boat, and in great haste caused the watermen to put off, and returned to Savoy. This discovery being made, the chatelain, the banderet, together with all the magistrates and people of the town, were much troubled that we had not given them timely notice that so they might have been seized. We afterwards understood that one Du Pose, of Lyons, Monsieur Du Pre, a Savoyard (of

whom I shall have occasion to speak more
largely,) one Cerise of Lyons, with Riardo be-
fore-mentioned, were part of this crew."

Boast not thy victory, Death! [powerIt is but as the cloud's o'er the sunbeam's It is but as the winter's o'er leaf and flower, That slumber, the snow beneath.

[still:

It is but as a tyrant's reign
O'er the look and the voice, which he bids be
But the sleepless thought and the fiery will

Are not for him to chain.

They shall soar his might above!
And so with the root whence affection springs,
Though buried, it is not of mortal things-
Thou art the victor, Love!

COUNTRY CLERGYMEN.

BY MRS. HOFLAND.

BEHOLD two different men in sacred garb
Speed to the house of prayer-they walk as

friends,

Du Pre was subsequently seized, and having been convicted of attempting to assassinate the English and of another crime, was sentenced to lose his head. The account of his execution is dreadful. "The day appointed for his execution being come, he was brought down; but the terrors of death, with the dismal reflections on his past life, seized upon him to such a degree that he fell into a rage, throwing himself on the ground, biting and kicking those who stood near him, and asking if there were no hopes of pardon. He was told that he ought to remember that, if he had been taken in his own country, where he had murdered his brother-in-law, and had been broken in effigy on the wheel, he should not have been used so gently. He refused to go to the place of execution any otherwise than by Yet rarely do we meet in social life force; so that about two hours were spent be- Friends in such opposites. He on the left, fore he arrived at the place where he was to Of slender form, and lightly buoyant step, die, though it was within musket-shot of the Which like his sparkling eye, defies the touch prison. Here the executioner put a cap on his Of that magician who hath stained his locks, head, and placed a chair that he might sit; but Looks smilingly and kind, on all around, he took off the cap and threw it away, and As on a flock beloved-his speech is sweet, kicked down the chair among the people. And humbly cheerful, as of one who feels When the executioner saw this, he tied his Contentment in his office, and himself, hands between his knees; and having assured Yet holds it meekly, and dependently, him that if he persisted in his resistance he As a good gift from the great donor's hand, would cut him into forty pieces, after about an Who may resume it ere to-morrow's sun. hour's contest, he at last performed his office." land, with the view of serving against James On the revolution Ludlow returned to Eng. The other with a stately step, and slow, Looks not to right, or left-his towering form, II. in Ireland; but a motion having been made And gait majestical-his scanty speech, in the House of Commons by Sir Edward Sey-Reluctantly bestowed-his eye upturnedmour, for an address to the king, praying that Bespeak far different feelings, aims, and he would cause Ludlow to be apprehended, he thoughts: returned to Switzerland, where he died in the year 1693. A monument was erected to his memory in the principal church of Vevay, by his wife, which Addison has copied in his Travels.

LOVE AND DEATH.

BY MRS. HEMANS.

By thy birth, so oft renew'd
From the embers long subdued ;
Py the life gift in thy chain,
Broken links to weave again;
By thine Infinite of wo,
All we know not, all we know;
If there be what dieth not,
Thine, Affection! is its lot!
MIGHTY Ones, Love and Death!
Ye are the strong in this world of ours,
Ye meet at the banquets, ye strive midst the
flow'r-

-Which hath the Conqueror's wreath?

Thou art the victor, Love!

Thou art the peerless, the crown'd, the free-
The strength of the battle is given to thee,
The spirit from above.

Thou hast look'd on death and smiled!
Thou hast buoy'd up the fragile and reed-like
form

Through the tide of the fight, through the

rush of the storm,

On field, and flood, and wild.

Thou hast stood on the scaffold alone: Thou hast watch'd by the wheel through the torturer's hour,

And girt thy soul with a martyr's power,

Till the conflict hath been won.
No-thou art the victor, Death!
Thou comest-and where is that which spoke
From the depths of the eye, when the bright

soul woke ?

-Gone with the flitting breath!

Thou comest-and what is left
Of all that loved us, to say if aught
Yet loves, yet answers the burning thought
Of the spirit lorn and reft?
Silence is where thou art!
Silently thou must kindred meet;
No glance to cheer, and no voice to greet;
No bounding of heart to heart!

Yet stranger, pause-thou must not dare pro

nounce

Censure on "priestly pride," "hypocrisy,"
Or other sins, which giddy ignorance
Might deem his failing-know that both are
good,

Both wise ambassadors from that dread King,
Whom with true hearts they worship-but dis-

tinct

Are they by nature, and not less distinct
In worldly circumstance. The first is he
Who fills our Vicarage, and merits well
His pleasant affluence-the other long

Like a strong bark hath striven with adverse

waves,

And now cut off from learning's hallowed seats,

From hope's delusions, and from beauty's smile,

Seeks the poor shelter of a Curate's home.

The man with heart at ease, and prone to feel
Life's sweetest charities, exults to think
How much he can bestow-the other feels
In his keen sense of blighted fortune now,
How much he must receive-he only prays
For more humility-his heart is full,

His mind abstracted; yet that heart is soft,
That mind of noble bearing;-cold and stern
Stands the lone ice-berg on the wintry waste,
But melts and sparkles in the summer sun.
And thus in time his hour of joy may come,
His hour of bounty and benignity-
Heaven speed the day!

After the execution of Sir William Stanley, when King Henry visited Lathom, the Earl, when his royal guest had viewed the whole house, conducted him up to the leads for a prospect of the country. The Earl's fool, who was among the company, observing the King draw near to the edge of the leads not guarded with a balustrade, stepped up to the Earl, and pointing down to the precipice, said "Tom, remember Will." The King understood the meaning, and made all haste down stairs, and out of the house; and the fool long after seemed mightily concerned that his lord had not had courage to take that opportunity of avenging himself for the death of his brother.