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without breaking our necks or dislocating our bones; but if "facilis descensus averni," what the ascent would be we hardly dared to think-and think of any future evil we could not, while we were lured on by the music of the water-fall, which came up from the depths

at almost unlimited expense and trouble." As we
wound upward, we had glorious glimpses into the open
world we were leaving behind us, of hill-side and val
ley; but there was one point at which we stopped and
remained for some moments in breathless admiration.
Here there was a wide, deep and wooded chasm be-like the song of a siren.
tween us and another eminence, that presented a semi-
circular front like the wall of an amphitheatre-but an
amphitheatre built by an Almighty architect. The
trees grew over the side of this mountain so close that
they looked absolutely packed with a surface resem-
bling a rich turf, and giving the appearance, I have
remarked, of a green wall.

Here ended my journal. We were perfectly exhausted with fatigue when we arrived at our Salisbury inn, at eight in the evening-and the next morning, before starting for home, I had only time to bring up my notes to where I have ended. But what signifies it? I could not have described that most graceful of all the waterfalls I have ever seen-that treasure which Nature seems to have hidden with a mother's love, deep in the bosom of her hills.

We were afterwards told that we did not, after all, see what was grandest-that we should have approach. ed on the other side, where the access was easy, and gone to the rocky breast-work,* at the summit of the

The greater portion of our company, the hale and the merciful ones, had alighted from our vehicles to walk up the mountain. A, who either perceived that I was lagging, or wishing to provide a picturesque variety, struck a bargain with a butcher's boy, who was wending his way up the mountain with supplies for Rhiga, and having huddled the meat into the back part of the little wagon, he placed me, with my pil-hill, whence we should have looked off a sheer precipice grim's staff, on a board that served for a seat in front, where I figured as a vender of beef and tallow. The Doctor soon overtook us, another type of civilization, with his symbols, a sulkey, and a leathern sack, containing the torments of social existence for those that enjoyed few of its benefits. After passing the furnaces of Mount Rhiga, (called Mount Raggy by the natives,) we came upon a lake, four miles in extent, with the Katskills for a background. Oh how beautiful that lake and those blue summits were, when we returned at twilight-mountain, lake, and skies, all glowing with the 'last steps of day!'

From Rhiga we drove over a very comfortable mountain road seven miles to Mount Washington, and were again in our own county of Berkshire. By the way I had a little chat with the Doctor, and was congratulating him on his ride, embracing these far stretching and sublime views, when, in reply, directing my observation to a point in the Katskills, he said, "My father was killed there felling a tree, and left me, with several other children, orphans, in a log-hut hard by. I always see the place when I pass this way, and it is a dreary ride to me." There was much food for thought in this; bat turning from the proof that the mind gives its own bue to the outward world, I remembered to have heard that this gentleman and his brother were eminent in their profession, and I thanked Heaven that the stream of life, in our land, runs to prosperity, even though its beginning be in a log-hut on the Katskills.

of three hundred feet into the ravine through which the water passes away. I believe it, for the fall as we saw it was no more sublime than a child in its wildest frolics, or a fawn gamboling through the glades of its woodland home.

If any of my readers have been good-natured enough to follow me thus far, finding my story without an end, they may deem me guilty of an impertinence in publishing the journal of a home excursion, which has neither a striking point nor a startling incident. But if I should lead any to seek the healthy pleasures within their reach, which will cost them no great expense of time or money, I shall be content.

In spite of the old ballad which gravely tells us that "to travel is great charges," as you know, in every place, we spent five days, and saw and enjoyed all that I have, perhaps too tediously, detailed, for less than the amount of a week's board at a watering place.

*It is from this rock, where eagles' eggs have been found, that the place obtained the name of Eagle's Nest. Bash-pish is the corruption of a name given by some Swiss settler.

NOTES AND ANECDOTES,

Political and Miscellaneous--from 1798 to 1830.-Drawn from the Portfolio of an Officer of the Empire-and translated from the French for the Messenger, by a gentleman in Paris.

SPEECHES IN THE CHAMBERS. Strangers, and particularly the English, never fail to exhibit, on visiting our legislative chambers, their surprise at seeing a speaker, after ascending the tribune, draw a little stitched manuscript book from his pocket, and commence the regular reading of a discourse to an assembly which rarely seems to listen to him. This

We stopped at a farm house in the village of Mount Washington, where we deposited our youngest traveller, with her nurse, and three of our little girls, who we thought incompetent to the labor before us-and having secured three riding horses for the least strong among us, the rest proceeded, under the guidance of an old mountaineer, through woodland and ploughed land towards Bash-pish. The distance was not more than two miles and a half; no frightful achievement for the poor-habit of writing speeches is gradually disappearing, est walker among us—but the ground was broken and and it is well that it is so. Under the restoration, the rugged, and when two miles were accomplished we had deliberation over almost every law was preceded by a to descend a precipitous hill, where there had been a general discussion, during which the chamber was conroad, now only to be marked by the heaps of stones demned to hear, I do not say to listen to, the reading of from which the earth had been swept during the late some thirty or forty written discourses, in which the furious rains. After much fatigue we did get down I principal object, the projet of the law, generally disap

ment, had that secresy been preserved for the purpose of concealing preparations for defence, extraordinary assemblages of troops, or other means of security; but there was nothing of this sort to be concealed. The

peared to make room for commonplaces, and irrelevant | ordinances of July a profound secret to the very last moand unmeaning declamation, uttered with the most ambitious emphasis in the midst of the noisy confusion and conversation of the members. The attention of the chamber was only secured at the moment of deliberation on the different articles and the various amend-government which declared war against the nation, ments. Then the speakers-those who spoke without written discourses—seized the tribune; then alone commenced the true debate. The written discourses, with a few exceptions, are a sort of letters of exchange drawn upon the electors-a certificate of parliamentary life, which the Moniteur was called upon to despatch.

commenced the struggle entirely unprepared. I might perhaps, have imagined some advantage from this secresy, had it been intended that the coup d'état of 1830 should have broken out unexpectedly-had it been designed to take France by surprise--but there seems to have been no intention of accomplishing even this. Now the deputies quit their places, and save them- The coup d'état was announced in the journals of every selves in the conference rooms, at the mere sight of the shade of opinion, and no ministerial sheet had been sheets of a written discourse. This repugnance to lis-authorised to contradict the report; so far from this, the tening to written discourses, had been long discovered most ardent journal of the absolutist party every mornby men of capacity, accustomed to captivate publicing invited the government to make use of force for attention; and if they ever wrote their speeches, they crushing the opposition it had to encounter; and yet, committed them to memory, and afterwards improvised to the very last day, the ministers energetically denied them from the tribune. the projets attributed to them.

General Foy, whose eloquence was so brilliant, was several times indebted to this innocent stratagem for success. With him it was the result of pure modesty, for never were his speeches more powerful than when really improvised. General Lamarque was endowed with a wonderful memory: in 1828 he delivered twelve discourses on the budget of war, without having a sin-"I will be responsible that nothing happens." gle sheet of paper before him; and yet (I have proof of the fact,) these twelve discourses had been written in advance.

The Austrian ambassador, whose wife was at the baths of Dieppe, and who was anxious to go for her, interrogated M. de Polignac with some anxiety:

"If any thing is in preparation," said he, "I should not leave Paris; I ought to be at my post." "You may go, without fear," replied the minister;

Another deputy, whom I will not name, (he belonged to a different side of the chamber, and did justice to himself by giving in his resignation in 1830,) had also, like General Foy and General Lamarque, the talent of appearing to improvise his discourses. But if, as has been said, few are great men to their valets de chambre, there are likewise but few orators for the journalists, charged with reporting their discourses. No pains are taken to conceal any thing from them, and frequently one may, in the tribune of the reporters, follow in the manuscript the improvisations of certain

orators.

The same answer was given to the English ambassador, who did not, however, put implicit faith in its truth, since he wrote to his government: "Serious events are about to take place: the minister of foreign affairs denies all intention of a coup d'état—but I know from a good source that the scheme is determined on."

M. de Rothschild, acute, full of foresight, and generally well informed, reposed in confidence upon the denials of M. de Polignac and M. de Peyronnet, who were interested in his operations at the Bourse. M. de Rothschild, whose immense capital is employed in every country in Europe, turned a deaf ear to the reiterated warnings which he received from all quarters. Urged on Saturday morning, the 24th, to guard against the fall which would be the inevitable result of the publi

The deputy of whom I have spoken, was accustom-cation of the ordinances, which he was told, would ed to send his manuscripts to the journals of his party, appear on Monday morning, he replied with a sneer: before the sitting of the chamber; but he took one pre- "It will be time to think of that on Monday; I am caution, which I never knew General Foy or General about to set off for Boulogne." M. de Peyronnet had Lamarque employ. This was to note, himself, and said to him: "There will be no coup d'état so long as I beforehand, the interruptions, exclamations, or ap-am a minister; my resignation is ready; time is always plauses which he supposed might accompany any of his periods.

necessary to recompose a ministry.”

This also was the language of M. de Chantelauze and of M. de Guernon-Ranville; M. d'Haussez and M. de Monbel preserved silence.

I have seen-I say I have seen-seen with my own eyes, one of these manuscripts. The words laughter, very well, murmurs on the left, applauses on the right, gene- M. de Rothschild thought himself so certain of the ral approbation, &c. &c., had been added in the hand-truth, that he did not return to Paris during Sunday writing of the orator, on the sheets of the copy. I read at the end of this manuscript the following sentence, written out in full, and in the hand of the speaker:

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the 25th; and on Monday the 26th, one of his secretaries having found the ordinances in the Moniteur, hastened to meet his patron on the road from Boulogne, to inform him of the fact. The surprise of M. de Rothschild on reading the Moniteur was so great, that he swooned in his cabriolet.

A secret so well kept by so many persons is so extraordinary a circumstance, that one is forced to believe, that, until Sunday the 25th, nothing had been determined in the cabinet; and that, if the ministers had in a preceding council received information of the projets

of Charles X. (at first confided only to M. de Polignac,) | In terminating his letter, he stated that his views on a sufficiently strong opposition had been manifested to this subject had been developed to M. de Talleyrand, leave room to believe that these projets had been aban- who would make them known to him. doned, and that it had been determined to wait as long as might be necessary to secure those who were still undecided.

M. de Talleyrand, whose perspicacity will not be questioned, also refused to believe in a coup d'état, or at least that it was so near at hand.

On Saturday the 24th, M. de Talleyrand despatched the letter of the king of England to Charles X. and solicited an audience, which was appointed for the next morning, Sunday, the 25th of July, at three o'clock.

M. de Talleyrand proceeded to Saint Cloud at the appointed hour; the council was assembled, and Charles X. presided. It was in this council that a moral violence was exercised over the minds of such of the ministers as were opposed to the coup d'état, that an appeal was made to their personal devotion, and that the ordinan

M. de Talleyrand did not love Charles X. and Charles X. detested him. He could not bear, it has been said, even to see his face; and M. de Talleyrand, always malicious, never failed to profit by all the opportunities which his dignity of grand chamberlain afforded, to pre-ces were at last signed. sent himself before the monarch. He did not hesitate to travel sixty or eighty leagues to procure this petty enjoyment of but a few minutes.

M. de Talleyrand waited from three o'clock until six. Charles X., on leaving the council chamber, perceived him in the saloon, and observed: "I am very sorry, M. de Talleyrand, but it is too late; it will do to-morrow.”

The next morning, M. de Talleyrand, having read the ordinances in the Moniteur, comprehended that it was indeed too late, and did not think it necessary to go to Saint Cloud.

At the time of the revolution in Piedmont, the French ambassador near the court of Sardinia, having quitted Turin, came to render Louis XVIII. an account of the events of which he had been a witness. The Count d'Artois, informed of the presence of this ambassador in the cabinet of his brother, hastened thither: M. de Wednesday, the 28th, M. de Talleyrand, who was Talleyrand was present at the conference. The Count almost the oldest member of the Chamber of Peers, d'Artois expressed himself at first with great vehe-assembled at his house his colleagues then in Paris, to mence on the events in Piedmont, and blamed with deliberate, after the manner of the Chamber of Depu much energy the conduct of the ambassador in the cir- ties, on what was best to be done in the grave cir cumstances in which he was placed. The ambassador cumstances in which they found themselves. proved that his conduct had been perfectly conformable to the instructions of the minister of foreign affairs. "You received some letters from M. de Blocas," replied the Count d'Artois, with some quickness; "those were the instructions to which you should have conformed." M. de Talleyrand defended the ambassador with much warmth, and Charles X. never forgave him, as he never pardoned the resistance to his wishes which had been offered by the minister of foreign affairs in 1815.

When the Count d'Artois and the ambassador had withdrawn, Louis XVIII. said, with a sad manner, to M. de Talleyrand, "You see, prince, I am no longer king; there are really two governments in France; and that which it is necessary to obey, under pain of disgrace, is the government of the king who can mount on horseback."

A short time after the ascension of Charles X. to the throne, M. de Talleyrand solicited the survivorship of the grand chamberlain's office in favor of his brother. The great offices of the court were in some degree hereditary in a family; but M. de Talleyrand had too much reason to doubt the good will of Charles X. to omit soliciting a promise which, to a certain degree, would have tranquillized him. "I not only cannot promise to comply with your request,” replied Charles X.," but I ought to inform you that I have disposed of the place of grand chamberlain the moment that you leave it vacant.”

--

THE MARSHAL, DUKE OF RAGUSA. The Marshal, Duke of Ragusa, has been exiled from France since the revolution of July. After having the misfortune to make war upon his fellow-citizens, he committed the crime of suffering himself to be conquered. Let no one cry out against the position in which I have placed the two words, misfortune and crime, in the preceding sentence. It is always a misfortune to have to make war upon one's fellow-citizens; but this misfortune only becomes a crime in those who allow themselves to be overcome. Marshal Marmont was not the first French general reduced to the hard necessity of firing upon the people. Suppose Bonaparte, for example, had been defeated in his struggle against the sections of Paris, on the 13th vendemaire, and you will concede that he would have been condemned even more severely than Marshal Marmont has been. Since 1830, the French soldiers have been frequently condemned to fire upon their fellow-citizens at Lyons, Paris, and in other places. No one thinks of reproaching them, because they were successful.

There is a cruel fatality in the lives of certain men. Nobody will deny that the Duke of Ragusa possesses distinguished military talents, vast information, and precious qualities; he is a man who in every respect gains immensely by being known. In 1814, he was accused of treason. Those who are well acquainted A few days before the revolution of July, M. de Tal- with the facts of the history of that period, and who leyrand had been entrusted with the discharge of a judge without prejudice, know the injustice of this confidential mission near Charles X. The king of charge. But it seems to be a necessity with us to cry England, who, like his ambassador, placed but little treason whenever we sustain a reverse; it is a satisconfidence in the denials of M. de Polignac, had writ-faction which we allow our own self-love. The marten to Charles X. to represent the danger of the mea- shal passed fifteen years under the weight of public sures which he was preparing, and to urge him, with a reprobation. I say public, because those who are acview to the interests of all the princes of Europe, to quainted with facts, and appreciate them justly, are renounce projets which might endanger every throne. I always in a minority in any nation.

VOL. V.-6

New circumstances present themselves: the Duke of I never saw the Duke of Ragusa again; but I have Ragusa is charged to defend a government which he seen a letter written by him to a lady, shortly after the did not like and acts which he loudly disapproved. If events of July, 1830. I wish this letter belonged to me, he had followed the impulse of his heart, he would and that I was allowed to publish it: it would comunder these circumstances have betrayed, and no ex-pletely justify, in the opinion of many worthy men, the pressions would have been found strong enough for the conduct of the Duke of Ragusa, both in 1814 and 1830. patriotism of his conduct. For not having been a traitor, the marshal is compelled to seek an asylum in a foreign land. It is melancholy to think, and cruel to It is known, that towards the conclusion of the strugsay so, but every thing tends to prove the fact, that ingle of the three days, many houses in the Rue Saint politics success changes the nature of things and legiti-Honoré were occupied by detachments of the royal mizes all.

M. DE POLIGNAC IN 1830.

guard, which, abandoned in this perilous situation by the retreat of the rest of the royalist troops, could only exhaust their last ammunition and then surrender. One of these houses was taken by assault, and all the soldiers which it contained were killed and thrown from the windows. There were two officers in this house— one perished in the struggle, and the other was indebt

Unimportant an individual as I am, I was in a situation to observe the secret opinions of Marshal Marmont, on the subject of the ordinances of July. I have long known him. The Duke of Ragusa had been consulted, in 1816, by the commission charged to prepare a complete plan for a system of defence for France. He came into a bureau in which I was employed, and ta-ed for his life to an accident which he could never exking me, because I was the first person he met, he dictated to me for nearly four hours, and with the most perfect lucidness, his opinion on one of the most difficult questions of military science. Whenever I have seen him since that period, he has received me with extreme kindness.

The ordinances of July had appeared in the Moniteur of Monday the 26th. Being connected, at that period, with a very liberal journal, the Journal du Commerce, I had been present, during the morning, at a meeting of the editors, in which it had been decided, notwithstanding the prohibition, that the journal should appear. Every one had then to occupy himself with the particular department which fell to his share. I had to report the proceedings of a solemn session of the Academy of Sciences, which was to be held on that very Monday. I proceeded to the palace of the institute, and was sitting in the library waiting the opening of the meeting. The Marshal Duke of Ragusa was the first member of the Academy whom I observed. 1 went up to salute him, and was instantly struck with the change in his appearance; he was walking alone, absorbed in his own reflections, and appeared to be suffering under the weight of violent chagrin.

"What are you going to do here?" he said to me. "I have come to report the proceedings of the sitting of the Academy."

"To report their proceedings!" "Yes, Marshal."

"Then you have not read the Moniteur ?" "I beg your pardon."

"And your journal will appear?"

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Yes, while our presses remain unbroken." "You are right-IT IS YOUR DUTY."

plain. Some minutes before the house was attacked, he heard himself called to from the street: it was in consequence of an order from M. de Polignac. He instantly proceeded to the Tuilleries, and received directions to throw aside his uniform, to cover himself with an overcoat, and to proceed immediately to the camp of Saint Omer, with an order to the commanding general to direct all his troops upon Paris.

The officer of whom I speak was but a sub-lieutenant; he was a man of high character, but his merits were only known to his friends, of whom I was one. He was brave, but possessed of none of those brilliant qualities, of those extraordinary talents, which distinguish a soldier, and cause him to be remembered in a moment of difficulty, when great energy or great activity are required. He was a man of intelligence, of a high character, but of a cold temperament, sufficiently certain of his own courage to make no parade of it, and discharging his duties conscientiously, but without ostentation. He believed himself, and ought to have believed himself, in his subaltern grade, entirely unknown to those who filled the principal offices of the government.

At the Tuilleries M. de Polignac had the whole staff of the Marshal Duke of Ragusa at his disposal: he had near him officers personally devoted to him--soldiers accustomed to discharge confidential and difficult missions; he left them aside; he did not reflect that a general or at least a superior officer was necessary to carry so important an order as the one he had to despatch. Despatches might be seized, or the bearer might judge it advisable to destroy them, and therefore it might be necessary to deliver a verbal order; and a general-in-chief might accord to an officer of elevated rank the confidence which he would perhaps refuse to a sub-lieutenant. Good luck would have it that none of these thoughts struck the mind of M. de Polignac : he asked for an officer, and he stopped at the name of a sub-lieutenant whom he had never seen, but whose name, which he then heard, perhaps for the first time, struck him. Why was this? No one knows. It was a mere accident. Without knowing it, M. de Polignac saved the life of a very good officer; also without know

The Marshal, after having said these words in a grave tone, resumed his silent promenade, carefully avoiding such of his colleagues as he was the most intimately connected with. When the sitting was opened, he seated himself at the extremity of a bench, and re-ing it, he happened to make a very good choice, for the mained there, with his head resting on his hand, more than two hours, without exchanging a word with any of his neighbors.

mission was discharged with intelligence and rapidity— but events marched too rapidly to allow the expected succor to arrive in time. [To be continued.]

THE BRIDE OF THE DEAD.

The wanderer came from the far-off clime,
Where long he had wasted his life's fair prime,
To the home of his birth-the hallow'd spot
Of the vine-wreath'd hill and the shelter'd cot.
He came with the hopes of his youth no more-
His soul's glad dream had been shadow'd o'er--
And his pallid look told, with fearful power,
That death was at work in his manhood's hour.

But she was there, who had watched for him,
'Till her cheek had paled and her eye grown dim--
In whose thought his name, by a thousand ties,
Was linked to all blessed memories.

She heard but one step on the threshold stone,
(For deep through her heart had the echo gone,)
And the crimson tide to her forehead rush'd,
As fast on his bosom her full tears gush'd.

Then slowly she lifted his clustering hair,

But marked not the change that was written there ;—

For oh! the measure of weeks, and days,
And distance, was lost in that fond, fixed gaze.
She saw, in the depths of his wasted eye,
But the holy light of the years gone by-
And voices and tones that the past time brings,
Were sweeping, like music, her spirit's strings.

"I have come for thee-I have come for thee,
From my exile home o'er the far bright sea!
But the dream of my youth with its joy hath flown,
And the golden cord of my life is gone.

I bring not riches, nor high renown,

And but withered hopes for thy bridal-crown!
And wilt thou be his, who greets thee now
With the seal of sickness upon his brow ?"

"Will I be thine! Can the soul forget
The yearning thoughts which it clings to yet?
Will I be thine! Can the heart despair,
When love hath once lighted its shrine-fire there?
Oh! I will be thine, 'though thy hopes are crush'd,
Though the song of my life is in spring-time hush'd,
And the blossoms of joy are, like rose-leaves, shed ;-
I am thine!-though I be but the bride of the dead."

They gather'd there in the humble church,
And the garlands were hung in the lowly porch.
They knew him when erst from that maiden's side,
He went to the world in his hour of pride,

And they marked now his step and his feeble smile,
As he totter'd slowly along the aisle ;
And bright tears fell like the April rain

For him who," so changed!" had return'd again.

They stood up there by the altar-side,
That wasted man and his gentle bride.

On the sacred book, with a golden ray,
The pleasant light of the sunshine lay,
And the words had been spoken for good or ill;
But why was the bridegroom so strangely still?
Low, down to the shrine, he had bowed his head,
And that fair, young bride, was the Bride of the Dead.
Richmond, January, 1839.

THE NEW-ENGLAND GIRL.

I love the brow that scorns to wear
The shadows of a vain deceit,
That boldly fronts the monster care,
And lays him powerless at her feet;
I love the heart that loves in grief,

That gladly leaps at other's joy;
I love the hand that gives relief,
Tho' clasped not by a jewel'd toy;
I love the feet that haste to bring,
Glad tidings to a broken heart;
I love the voice, whose music's ring
Bids sorrow's heavy sigh depart.

I love the mind that soars above
The littleness of life's vain round,
Whose flight can compass worlds above,
And wander thro' mysterious ground;
Whose faith on God is firmly based,
Whose glance the infidel forsakes,
Whose words by modest merit graced,

The dull cold chain of fashion breaks. I love the mother who can give

Her offspring nature's stream of life, Nor think it misery to live

In all the duties of a wife;

I love the laugh of innocence,
That calls her little ones around,
Nor cheats them with a vain pretence,
Nor mocks them with a hollow sound.

And where shall such an one be found

Amid the thoughtless ones of earth? Is she on fashion's changing ground, Where cold precision stifles mirth? Is she amid the gaudy things

That flutter round the lighted halls? That haste in swarms to hygeian springs, To waste their time in midnight balls? Is she amid the azure crew

That study life to limn its faults? That love the title of a blue,

And dose their friends with attic salts?

Is she amid the throng that spin
Their everlasting yarn by day?
That scorn to own a hidden sin,

Yet hasten on their downward way?

No! far from these my fancy strays,

Where some lone spire in beauty towers, Where hoarse the mountain streamlet plays, And sweet contentment makes her bowers. There, o'er the dairy's richest store,

Or 'mid the fruits and flowers of earth,
Behold the maiden I adore,

Baptized to innocence and worth.
Are roses worthless on the cheeks,
Tho' brighter far than those of spring?
Is the eye valueless that speaks

The soul's unspotted offering?
No! give me in my joyous day,

That gentle heart, that priceless pearl, Whose smile shall chase life's gloom away, The ruby lipp'd New-England girl.

E. H. C.

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