tion of the actors is distinct, and, in comic dialogue, delightfully spirited and smooth. As to the Louvre, I cannot attempt a description of it: the magnitude and riches of the gallery quite confounded and overwhelmed me with astonishment; my impression is, that I liked the statues better than the pictures; of the statues I liked the Apollo most, and of the pictures, the portraits painted by Raphael and the Parma Correggio. The Transfiguration, The Descent from the Cross, and Domenichino's St. Jerome, rather seemed to me something admirable, from which I should derive delight if I studied them, than conveyed to me an immediate emotion of pleasure or elevation.

Paris surpasses London infinitely in the number and magnificence of the public buildings. The quarter of the town where we are lodged, Rue de la Paix, formerly Rue Napoléon, is full of great and elegant edifices: nothing that I had seen before could be mentioned that would convey to you an idea of the effect of them. Napoleon's hand is visible every where; not so much in the ornaments, which, with rather a childish vanity, he has crowded upon works that had been erected by his predecessors, as in the numerous buildings of every description which will remain as long as Paris itself, several new bridges, that of Jena, a very handsome one, very noble quays upon the river, market-places, triumphal arches, columns, &c. The embellishment of Paris seems to have been always in his thoughts: the vast dome of the Invalids is covered with gilding on the outside, which he ordered to be done after his return from Moscow; I disliked the effect of this at first, but am now reconciled to it.

I meant to make this a long letter, but find I must

stop. As I have not written for a week, I think it better to send it half finished, than to keep it for ano

We left Paris on the afternoon of the 31st ultimo, having hired a large open barouche with a seat for the servant: this is drawn by three horses; and, in such fine weather as we had the whole of the journey, is a very commodious and pleasant carriage. We stopped at Fontainebleau, the interior of which is very magnificent: the old gilt ceilings, some of them of Henry the Fourth's time, were saved from the plunder to which the furniture and decorations, within reach, were delivered up during the Revolution, and are certainly very fine; but what is most worth mentioning is, the gallery of Francis I., built and embellished by that monarch, in which Napoleon has placed busts of the worthies and great captains of all nations, and has introduced among them some of his own aide-de-camps who had fallen in action, and the head of Dessaix, who was killed in the battle of Marengo. The forest of Fontainebleau, which we crossed in coming to the palace, has some striking scenery; and we were glad to see a few oaks that could be called trees, for we had seen no trees of any sort before, and have seen none since. In the palace, the ornaments of which had been restored in great splendour by Napoleon, we were shown the suite of apartments which the Pope occupied there for the nineteen months of his imprisonment, and the bed-room

and boudoir of Marie Antoinette, which, by some management, were preserved, and were afterwards used by Josephine and Marie Louise. I felt more interest in seeing Napoleon's room and bath, and little cabinet, and the writing table standing in the last of these apartments, upon which he signed his act of abdication.

The second night of our journey from Fontainebleau, we meant to sleep at a small country inn, called Lucy le Bois, and arrived there about midnight, (for the delightful moonlight induced us to travel so late,) but we found the whole in possession of Lord Bute, who was crossing France by the same road, with a suite of nineteen persons. We went on to the next stage, Avallon, and found the chief inn there tenanted, in the same manner, by Lord Holland's travelling party, which is not much less. Besides this, the town was crowded with natives from all the country, on account of a "distribution des prix," that had taken place that very day, and was followed by a ball. We were at last admitted, after much grumbling, into a house where we were promised something to eat, but nothing to sleep on; which we thought no bad compromise. The landlord in the course of a few minutes cooked us a very good supper of several dishes, swearing loud all the while; but by the time we had found out from his wife that their son had got Rollin's Belles Lettres as a premium, and, in addition to the flattery this gave us a handle for, had ordered his best Champagne, he got into perfect good humour, owned he was "un peu vif," and bustled about till he provided us with beds. All this cookery and bustle was performed en déshabillé, for he had nothing on above the girdle but his shirt, with the neck open. I found him, however, by seven o'clock with his hair dressed, and all his stoves and saucepans in full activity.

Don't suppose we have often made so short a night of it; but as I was put into a room where there were two Frenchmen already, of whom I had a glimpse, as they lay in their beds without nightcaps, I had no fancy for indulging myself longer than was necessary. I had the pleasure of seeing the Hollands for a little while; and then we had a walk round the ramparts of Avallon. Between Avallon and Dijon, we crossed the high part of Burgundy, where it blew very cold indeed. The descent, which begins at a village called Sombernon, is grand, in the outline not unlike some of the steeps in the north of Derbyshire, but ornamented with the bright green of the vineyards, and by the beautiful sky, which we now became sensible had a deeper blue than we were used to. At Dijon we perceived that we had got among an entirely different race from any we had yet seen the number of beautiful women walking about quite surprised us: it was Sunday, and they were endimanchées; but their regular features, dark complexion and hair, and fine eyes, had an uniform and marked character. At Auxonne, we saw more works of the hostilities of last spring than at any other place in our route; but there, as every where else that we saw, every thing was repaired or repairing. It was on the way to Auxonne that we first observed plantations of maize, or turquie, as they call it in the country: it is very showy; and we had little else but maize, hemp, and vines all the way to the foot of Mount Jura. What I have next to tell you of is, our route from Poligny across the ridge of Mount Jura to the side of the Lake of Geneva. But this I must reserve for another letter.

Ever most affectionately yours,

VOL. II.

16

FRA. HORNER.

LETTER CCXIX. TO MRS. L. HORNER.

My dear Anne,

Brieg, 15th Sept. 1814.

We crossed the Jura, ascending the first ridge of that great mountain at Poligny in Franche Comté and coming down to Nyon upon the side of the lake of Geneva. The pleasing impressions that we received from the scenery of that mountain district are almost effaced by the greater scenes in which we have been living for the last four days. It was, however, a very interesting journey; and except in the Alps, I have not seen any thing more romantic than the cliffs of Poligny; the deep dells between Champagnole and Maison Neuve, where we first met with mountain pines, and after passing the last of these places, a quiet green vale on the banks of the river Ain.

After a morning walk at Nyon, in the course of which we had a full view of Mont Blanc, at first in all its extent, and afterwards of its summit only, in bright sunshine above the clouds, and saw likewise a small house, where Joseph Bonaparte has taken refuge with his family, we went along the side of the lake to Geneva; passing through Coppet, where Madame de Stael lives. There was a bise blowing, which made the lake very blue. At Geneva, we passed three entire days in lodgings upon the ramparts, which have a very fine view. The first day was unfortunately a fast day or festival, the whole of which was spent in presbyterian sermons, and the gates of the town were shut during service. I had the pleasure of meeting with Mr. Mallet, whose mother lives at La Prairie, a little way out of the town. After a charming evening walk by the side of the Rhone down to its confluence with the Arve, I went to