and form at once the characteristic feature, and the riches of the Country. In our way to the lofty and noble Chateau of Count d' Angeville, we visited the Monastery of St. Sulpice, which lifts its head with an air of solitary grandeur amidst the Pineclad mountains. The jolly Bernardines, who inhabit it, gave us a most cordial reception, and proved that they had well studied the virtues of hospitality, and cultivated the convivial graces. In my life I never laughed nor ate more heartily than with those Professors of Fasting and Mortification. They have a large revenue, and spend it freely; their Gates are always open, and when the luxurious old rogues outrun their rents, the axe is laid to the root of the tree, and twenty thousand stately Pines pay off all arrears. They have a handsome Chapel, and a fine Organ, which one of their Elèves made thunder again, by passing his brawny arm from time to time over the keys, this they seemed to consider as the chef d'œuvre of his musical skill, though I could only consider it a discordant and intolerable noise. Their Kitchen and Cellar are what they shew with most pride, as they derive from them their greatest pleasure. Both in truth are worthy an Heliogabalus, or why should I not say a society of Epicurean Monks! who never fail to bear in mind that part of the Holy Scriptures which says, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die."

But amongst the sleek and pampered Brotherhood, on whose full cheeks glowed the purple

shades of a smiling Autumn, I distinguished One who had scarcely passed the Spring-tide of his days, but whose blossoms seemed untimely withered in his cheeks, and in whose eyes sat pensive care; he interested me, and he observed it. The conversation turning on Pictures, my friend begged me to produce my little resemblance of Mrs. Siddons, as a proof of the skill of our Miniature painters; it passed from hand to hand; the suffrages of the others in its favour were loud and prolix; but the young Monk regarded it with fixed and silent attention, and with a rising tear, that shewed it made a deeper impression on him, and recalled painful ideas to his heart. After we had risen from table, he took an opportunity to invite me to his neat apartment, where, opening a little cabinet, he drew from a secret drawer a Miniature Picture, which he pressed (with eyes lifted to Heaven, and a quick flush) to his bosom, and then, with a sigh that spoke more eloquently and touchingly than all language, put it into my hand. It represented a beautiful young woman, with the complexion and somewhat of the features of Mrs. Siddons, I read in it the cause of his emotion, he saw it and said, "But for that lovely creature, never should have renounced all the pleasures of the World, and shut myself up within the walls of a Convent." I supposed that she had jilted him. Oh no!" he cried with emphasis," she was as amiable as she was beautiful, and hence my deep sorrow, which seven years' penitence and prayer

66

I

have not been able to erase. I am the son of a rich merchant at Lyons, I passionately loved this charming Girl, and won her heart, she was of equal birth, our families approved our choice, and the day was fixed for our Nuptials; in the meantime one of my relations gave a Ball, at which we danced together, with all the joy of young and heedless minds, that give themselves up to the transports of ardent affection, which meets no contradiction, and dreads no reverse. After a long and fatiguing dance, oppressed with heat, she went into the room where refreshments were served, and desired me to procure her some warm wine and water; I passed through the crowd to get it, in the hurry and confusion they put a glass of cold Lemonade into my hand, which, through a carelessness I never shall pardon myself for, I did not observe; the Object of all my wishes drank it eagerly, clasped her hands to her head, gave one groan, and dropped dead upon the spot." Tears choked his utterance, I need not tell you mine flowed with them. I could say was that it was not for man but Heaven to give him comfort. He clasped his hands together, and with a mixture of energy and humility in his countenance replied, "It has taught me Resignation, but can it teach me Forgetfulness." He afterwards moved his lips a moment in silent prayer, composed his countenance, and conducted me back to his merrier and happier, but less amiable and interesting brethren. As we returned to Savoy, we visited a famous Convent of the Char

BB

All

*

treux, situated on the top of a precipice, gloomy and melancholy, surrounded on three sides with bleak, barren, and lofty Mountains, while the fourth opened to the lavished beauties of an extensive Vale, and watered by the sweeping course of the majestic Rhone; it seemed an emblem of the life they led on one hand, and of the world they had left on the other. Given up to fasting, mortification, and prayer, their sunk eyes, their hollow and sallow cheeks, their meek demeanour and humble air were singularly contrasted with the free manners, laughing looks, and rosy hue of the well fed and worldly minded Bernardines. Every thing within these walls seemed to wear a sombre hue, and I fancied that I saw "Black Melancholy" sitting in their Arched Cloisters, and throwing around her

"A death-like Silence and a dread Repose."

We partook of a frugal dinner of eggs and herbs, and were served by one of the Monks with a humility that made me sick at heart, and abased me beyond description in my own eyes. After dinner, we visited their various narrow cells, where nature did not seem to be allowed more than she needs, and of course where necessity took place of comfort.

*

*

My excursion into the province of the Tarentese was delightful; my companions, two young and very intelligent Italian Noblemen of different characters, and more engaging for that difference. As we approached St. Pierre, a little town between Chambery and Moutier, the capital of the province, the Mountains assumed a bold aspect, and the Vale spread itself between them with luxuriant beauty, everywhere adorned by the fantastic windings of the Izere, whose course was frequently broken into such various branches, that it was impossible to discover its real bed. But mischievous are its seemingly sportive windings; to us they appeared smiling and playful, but to the Tenants of the Vale they are objects of dismay; as they have been formed by wrathful inundations, and as destructive encroachments on verdant fields and fruitful corn-lands, which they threaten with future desolation beneath the smiles that promise to fertilize. We slept at St. Pierre the first night, and next morn arose with the sun to visit the Castle of Miolan, anciently a strong Fortress belonging to the Counts of that name, now a dread Prison of State. It is situated aloft on the very edge of a steep rock, rough with all kinds of underwood, from whence its gloomy Towers sternly command the vale. Immediately behind it the Alps rise rugged and precipitate, and seem to threaten the