dead!-come with me to those tombs, fantastically arranged, where a frivolous affection miserably displays itself, in hanging an artificial garland, bought at the gate for two 'sous,' upon the tomb of the lover who was adored! There lie Abélard and Heloïse the monk and his mistress: how many thoughts, customs, doctrines, chances, changes, revolutions, in that sepulchre! ...There is Massena, General of the empireFoy, statesman of the restoration; for yonder cemetery, opened only twenty years ago, already contains two dynasties. But pass through the crowd of pyramids, obelisks, mounds, columns,

Luxembourg, is tinged by the character of its youthful inhabitants. They feel this; they feel they are in their own domain; they walk with their heads high, and their caps, or hats, cocked on one side. The poor and more studious carry a book under their arm, the richer and more adventurous brandish a stick.

In the same quarter as the students, and mingling with them, live a great number of the young literary men of France; of the journalists, of the novelists, of the dramatists, melodramatists, writers of tales, reviewers, &c. &c.; less seriously occupied than the poorer students, not so idle as the wealthier ones, they form an intermediate link between the two, and tend doubtless to inspire both with that love of polite learning, that passion for lighter literature with which all the young part of France is imbued.


that surround you on either side; turn from the tombs that are yet fresh, and look down from yonder elevation on the monuments that mingle ages!-what a mass of history is there! Behold the ruins of that palace, built for the modern King of Rome !-behold the church of Saint Louis, the statue of Bonaparte !—look for the site of the temple of Jupiter!-for the house of Ninon de l'Enclos!-for the apartment of Danton-the palace of Richelieu ! It is time that gives a magnificence to vastness: it is memory that gives a venerability to age.

Let your imagination darken that river by the overshadowing gloom of the wood, sacred to the weird mysteries of Druidical superstition!-lead through the narrow streets of yonder isle the gay procession of Bacchus and of Ceres!-people the city that I see with the flitting and intermingling figures of cowled monks and steel-armed warriors!-paint the tumults of the League-the massacre of St. Bartholomew !-paint Charles, with the fatal arquebuss in his hand, at yonder window, and the Seine red and tumid with Protestant blood! behold the Parliament, stiff and sombre, marching on foot to the Palais Cardinal, in deliverance of Broussel; and the town, distracted with the

fêtes, and the duels, and the ambition, and the quarrels, of the gay and noble cavaliers of that courtly and gallant time!-And now see the stalls of the Rue Quincampoix, miserable exhibition of the degraded chivalry of France! and lo! Mirabeau in the tribune! Lafayette, on his white horse, in the Champ de Mars!--Napoléon returning from Egypt, and walking to the Institut! the Grande Armée, drawn up on the Place du Carrousel !—the Cossacks encamped in the Champs-Elysées !—the Garde Royale flying from the Louvre !-and the Garde Nationale reviewing on the Boulevards! . . . . . .


"La nature montre partout la lutte de l'ombre et de la lumière."-V. Hugo-Littérature et Philosophie mêlees.

"The truth is, they be not the highest instances that give the securest information; as may be well expressed in the tale so common of the philosopher, that while he gazed upwards to the stars he fell into the water; for if he had looked down, he might have seen the stars in the water, but looking aloft he could not see the water in the stars. So it cometh often to pass, that mean and small things discover great, better than great can discover the small."-Bacon's Advancement.

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