the fields of Europe, over which his ill-omened bird had hovered through so many years of oppression and of terror—and liberty has dawned upon the nations he enslaved. The Louvre as it is, then, must be an interesting object to the lover of mankind, while the best feelings of the heart triumph in a loss, which taste and genius may be permitted for a moment to deplore. But I am not a connoisseur-my pleasure, therefore was, in this respect, unmingled-and I enjoyed these wonderful collections as much as if the Lacoon, and the Apollo, and the Venus, which have returned to their respective countries, had been there. Berlin and Vienna-Venice and RomeCologne and Brussels, have claimed and received their own. I could not but exult, as I surveyed the places they had occupied, that my own country had nothing to claim!

But, to a contemplative mind, a visit to the Louvre must be always pregnant with the deepest interest, connected, as that edifice has been, with some of the most important and affecting scenes in the history of France, and some of her greatest and most celebrated men. Nor could I forget, as I passed through its apartments, that round the walls of that very palace, now the peaceful retreat of genius, and the consecrated asylum of the arts, the groans of the dying protestants arose to heaven for vengeance, through five successive days of massacre and blood-while "kill, kill, kill," was the incessant

cry of the accursed Charles IX. who stood at the windows, a demon in a human form-to animate his ruffians when weary of their work, and fire upon the miserable fugitives that came within his reach. This carnival of death began 24th of August, 1572, but the stain of it is indelible upon the cause that engendered and the name that patronized it!

But the subject and the time alike admonish me to close my letter. I have made too free with the latter for your patience--and should write too warmly, perhaps, on the former for my own reputation as to meekness and prudence.

Your's, &c.

LETTER VIII.

Paris.

MY DEAR

To day we have visited the Jardin des Plantes, the Botanical Garden of Paris. It requires not the eye of a botanist to be interested with this delightful place. The precision and formality of science are relieved by the judicious grouping of the plants, and the graceful distribution of the walks and lawns. Every region of the globe is here presented in miniature, rich in its own productions, and with such embellishments as harmonize with the scene and heighten its effect. The menagerie and aviary are rich and well worthy attention; but the galleries of the museum, devoted to the specimens in Zoology, Entomology, Mineralogy, &c. astonish, while they delight.-The extent of the collectionsthe rarity and richness of many of the specimens— the high state of preservation in which they all appear to be and the perfect classification and skilful arrangement of the whole, as they surpass conception, so they are beyond all praise. Sir S. was surprised to find the productions of Java and the Eastern Islands, with which he is so well acquainted,

but which, to the generality of Europe, have been little known, all in this wonderful collection.Scarcely a creature exists-not a stone-or a metal-or an earth-or a chrystal, in any of its forms or combinations, that has not its example here; while the different compartments of the garden are made to harmonize with the respective countries whose productions they contain, and thus, in this extraordinary place, you seem surrounded with the varieties of every region, and, in the course of an hour or two, to make the tour of the globe.

The Jardin des Plantes should certainly be visited immediately after the palace of the Louvre: for the former must have a tendency to correct any undue impression of the greatness and the power of man, which may have been excited by a survey of the latter. Here the builders of palaces, and the masters of the chissel and the pencil sink into insignificance before the grandeur-the symmetry-the beautythe variety of HIS works, who built allthings, and is infinitely excellent in all he made. The hummingbird and the butterfly, the topaz and the sapphire, throw a dimness and a coarseness over the delicate touches of a Titian, and the rich colouring of a Claude: while the haughty Louis might see the splendour ofhis coronation robes eclipsed by many a simple flower that blooms within these fair retreats."Oh!Lord, how excellent are thy works, in wisdom hast thou made them all."

This garden owes its origin to La Brosse, physician to Louis XIII. who, in 1636, induced that prince to found an establishment for the cultivation and study of medicinal plants. It was afterwards enriched by the voyages of Tournefort in the Levant-by the botanical labours of Jussieu and Vaillant-but is indebted for the present consummation of its glory to the munificence of Louis XV. and the genius of Buffon.

There are two gardens, the upper and the lower— in the former is an artificial hill, the ascent to which is by a winding path-and on whose summit is a neat pavilion. There the visitor may repose himself after the fatigues of the morning, and survey, at leisure, the enchanting scenes immediately beneathor the majestic edifices and busy streets of the capital all around him.

After our morning's ramble, a hint was dropped by Sir S. which was eagerly caught by the whole party, and has issued in a determination, with which I, you may be sure, am unspeakably gratified, that is to make the best use of our time here, and, instead of lounging about Paris, to proceed, as soon as we shall have seen the cream of its interesting objects, immediately to Geneva-and thence to the glaciers of Savoy-across the country to Basle, and down the Rhine to the Netherlands. Thus my most ardent wishes will be gratified—and, wearied