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whole family. This satisfaction, however, | me; but I can with truth assert, and I wish Lothario thought proper to deny me, al-you to publish it to the world, that in leging, as his letter expressed it, that his essential, and indeed in trifling subjects, life is not his own, but my sister's;' and he has ever been kind to me to the greatest thus making the very injury for which 1 degree; nor has the person, who may be demanded satisfaction his excuse for not supposed to have attempted to lower him meeting me. It is not unknown to you in my estimation, in order to gain my that I have by concealment alone been affections, ever spoken of him to me but able for some time to evade the police, in the highest terms of respect. About who, having anticipated the step I was my dear, dear children, I must say one likely to take, are still continuing in pursuit word. Do you think I dare hope, by any of me. Under these circumstances, it remote or indirect means, to hear somewould ill become me to apply to the con- times of them? You know how much I duct of Lothario the expressions that my love them; you are aware of their merits, feelings at this moment dictate; and I and what I must feel at having quitted shall therefore leave it to you and others them; but I have the satisfaction, the into determine whether the line he has expressible comfort of knowing they will thought proper to adopt on this occasion, be taken care of by their father, though is or is not the most honourable. their mother has abandoned them. My dear little Henry and Charles-Oh! God bless you! I wrote every thing to my brother last night."

"I remain, my dear Sir,
"Your's most sincerely,


"Tuesday morning, 7 o'clock. "Since writing the inclosed, I have come to town, and if it is not repugnant to your feelings, I think I should like to have one interview with you, but not if you object to it in any way. The bearer can bring you to me instantly, if you will see me; but if not, ask no questions."



"It would be the height of ingratitude were I not to try to convey my thanks to my husband for his most kind and generous offer of taking home a wretch who has so much injured him. I dare not write to him myself; but I implore it of you to say every thing which gratitude and feeling can suggest, to express my sense of the kindness of his conduct. His note was forwarded to me this morning; but, degraded and unprincipled as I must appear in the eyes of every body, believe me I am not lost to all sense of honour, which would forbid my returning to a husband 1 have quitted, to children I have aban-with; but that she must return instantly, doned. Indeed, indeed, my dear friend, if you knew all, you would pity more than blame me. Could you tell all the resist ance that has been made to this criminal,

most atrocious attachment, could you know what are my sufferings at this moment, you would feel for me. My husband has not deserved this of me. We have had some differences, and he may perhaps sometimes have beep a little too harsh to

"That, for the sake of her welfare, and that of her children, he would consent to receive her again, provided she would return, and break off all correspondence or connection with the person she was then

for the next day would be too late."

It is not understood that Calista availed herself of this indulgence of forgiveness".

been given to the public in a pamphlet, intitled "Lord Paget's Letters in the affair of Lady Charlotte Wellesley," which we recommend to the perusal of our readers. It is a most melancholy realization of the romance of Charlotte and Werter.

*The letters of these unhappy parties have



Extracted from Pinkney's Travels into the South of France, just published.

WE had intended to have reposed ourselves at Angers, but Mons. de Corseult, having been very lately married, had his house daily full of visitors, and as we were strangers, parties were daily made for us. Whatever time I could steal from this unintermitting round, I employed in walks to the town, and in the neighbourhood. Mr. Younge generally accompanied me, but I was sometimes fortunate enough to be ho noured with Mademoiselle St. Sillery, an happiness of which I should have been more sensible, had it not usually tempted the intrusion of some coxcomb, who converted a tour of information into a mere lounge of levity and 'senseless gallantry, How miserable would have been an English girl, of the beauty and wit of this young lady, with such gallants! Or is it with la dies as with the poet in Don Quixote-are love and flattery sweet, though they may come from a fool and a madman? I should hope not, or at least with Mademoiselle St. Sillery.

In despite, however, of these intrusions, we had two or three pleasant walks through Angers, in which the curiosity of Mademoiselle was of much use to me. He must be less than a man who could be wearied || even by the most minute interrogations of an handsome woman. Mademoiselle St. Sillery, as if resolved to be ignorant of nothing, put the most endless questions to those who accompanied us about the town; and with true French gallantry, the answers even exceeded the questions. I had little to do but to look and to listen.

half being built on one side, and one on the other. The water of the Mayenne is so harsh that it cannot be drunk or used for cookery, and were it not for the proximity of the Loire, and some aqueducts, Angers, though built on a river, must necessarily become desolate for want of water. The same improvidence is visible in many towns in France, and still more in Holland.

The walls round this city were built by King John of England, and though six centuries have elapsed, are still nearly entire. Part of them were indeed demolished by Louis the Eighth, but they were restored in their original form by his successor, and remain a proof of the durable style of building of that age (1230). The castle of Angers was built at the same time. It is situated on a rock which overhangs the river, and though now in decay, has still a very striking appearance. The walls are lofty and broad, the towers numerous, and the fosses deep. They are cut out of the solid rock, and must have required long and ingenious labour.

The general appearance of Angers does not correspond with the magnificence of its walls, its castle, and its cathedral. Its size is respectable; there are six parish churches, besides monasteries and chapters, and its inhabitants are estimated at 50,000. The streets, however, are very narrow, and the houses mean, low, and huddled: there is the less excuse for this, as ground is plentiful and cheap; there is scarcely a good house inhabited within the walls. The towns in France differ in this respect very considerably from those in England: in a principal town in England you will invariably find a considerable number of good

Angers is situated in a plain, which in the distance being fringed with wood, and being very fertile in corn and meadow, wants nothing of the richness and beautyhouses, where retired merchants and tradeswhich seem to characterize this part of the men live in the ease and elegance of priprovince. It is parted into two by a river vate gentlemen. There is nothing of this called the Mayenne, which is a small branch kind in the French towns. Every house is of the Loire, and again falls into the main a shop, a warehouse, a magazine, or a lodgriver about five miles from the town. The ing-house. I do not believe there is one French, like the Dutch, seemed to be pe- merchant of independent fortune now reculiarly attached to this kind of site, hav-sident within the walls of Angers. This, ing a river run through their towns, one indeed, may perhaps arise from a differ

one might live at Angers on 250 louis per
annum, as well as in England for four times
the amount. And were I to live in France,
I know no place I should prefer to the en-
virons of this town. The climate, in this
part of France, is delightful beyond de-
scription. The high vault of heaven is
clad in ethereal blue, and the sun sets with
a glory which is inconceivable to those who
have only lived in more northerly regions;
for week after week this weather never va-
ries, the rains come on at once, and then
cease till the following season. The tem-
pests which raise these fogs from the ocean
have no influence here, and they are stran-

ence in the general character of the two kingdoms: in England, and even in America, there are few tradesmen long resident in a town without having obtained a sufficiency to retire; whilst the French towns being comparatively poor, and their trade comparatively insignificant, the French tradesman could seldom do more than obtain a scanty subsistence by his business. In all the best French towns the tradesmen have more the air of chandlers than of great dealers. There are absolutely no interior towns in France like Norwich, Manchester, and Birmingham. In some of their principal manufacturing places there may indeed be one or two principal men and re-gers likewise to that hot moisture which spectable houses; but neither these men nor their houses are of such number and quality as to give any dignity or beauty to their towns beyond mere places of trade. The French accordingly, judging from what they see at home, have a very contemptible idea of the term merchant; and if a foreign traveller of this class should wish to be admitted into good company, let him pass by any other name than that of a marchand or negociant. To say all in a word, this class of foreigners are specifically excluded from admission at court.

produces the pestilential fevers in England and America. There are sometimes indeed heavy thunder storms, when the clouds burst, and pour down in torrents of rain: but the storm ceases in a few minutes, and the heavens, under the influence of a power-' fulsun, resume their beauty and serenity.

I visited the market, which in Angers, and I believe throughout France, is held on Sunday. This is one of the circumstances from which a foreigner would be very apt to form a wrong estimate of the French character, which now, whatever it might be, is decidedly religious. But the Roman Catholics have ever considered Sunday as at once a day of festivity and a holiday; they have no scruple, therefore, to sing and dance, and to hold their markets on this day; all they abstain from is the' heavier kind of work-labour in the fields and warehouses. A French town, therefore, is never so gay as on a Sunday. I inquired the price of provisions. Beef and mutton are about 2d. per pound; a fowl 5d.; and turkies, when in season, from 18d. to 2s. ;|| bread is about 11⁄2d. a pound; and vegetables, greens, &c. cheap to a degree. A good house in Angers about six louis per year, and a mansion fit for a prince (for there are some of them, but without inhabitants) from forty to fifty Louis, including from thirty to forty acres of land without the walls. I have no doubt but that any

The soil in the neighbourhood of Angers (I speak still with reference to its aptitude for the residence of a foreigner, for I confess this dream hung very strongly on my imagination) is fertile to a degree, and as far as I could understand, is very cheap. Every house, as I have before said, without the walls, has its garden, and all kind of fruits and vegetables were in the greatest plenty. The fences around the gardens of the villages were very fantastically interwoven with the wreaths of the vine, which would sometimes creep up the trunk of a tree, and sometimes hang over the casements. Nothing can be more delightful than the vine when flourishing in all this unbridled wildness of its natural luxuriance, and as if justly sensible of its beauty, the French cottagers convert it to the double purpose of ornament or utility. Whilst travelling along, my spirits frequently felt the cheering influence of the united images of natural beauty and of human happiness. Often have I seen the weary labourer sitting under a sunny wall, his head shaded by the luxuriant branches of the vine, the purple fruit of which furnished him with his simple meal. Bread and fruit is the constant summer dinner of the peasantry of the Loire. Upon this subject, the general plenty of the country, I should not have forgotten to mention, that in the proper

season partridges and hares are in great plenty, and being fed on the heath lands of Bretagne and Anjou, are said to have the best flavour. An Englishman will scarcely believe, that whilst he is paying 12s. a couple, half a guinea for a turkey, seven shillings for a goose, &c. &c.: whilst such I s I say are the market prices in London, the dearest price in the market of Angers is 108. a couple for fowls, a shilling a couple for ducks, 1s. 6d. for a goose. As to the quality of these provisions, the veal and the mutton being fed in the meadows on the Loire, are entirely as good as in England; but the beef, not being in general use except for soups and stews, is of a very inferior kind. Wood is the only article which is dear; but an Englishman in this country would doubtless rise above the prejudices around him, and burn coal, of which there is a great plenty in every part of France.

I must not take leave of Angers without mentioning that it was a favourite station of the Romans, who, like the monks, always consulted natural beauty in the site of the towns and permanent encampments. Many remnauts of this people are still visible: some of the arches of an aqueduct are yet entire, and without a guide speak their own origin.

Angers, being so near La Vendee, suffered much by the Chouans, and still retains many melancholy traces of the siege it had to maintain. The people, with feel ings which are better conceived than expressed, spoke with great reluctance on their past sufferings: there seems indeed one great maxim at present current in France, and this is to forget the past as if it had never happened. A foreigner is sure to offend, who inte; rogates them upon any shing connected with the horrible Revolution.

Nothing can be more delightful than the environs of Angers, whether for those who walk or ride. The country is thickly enclosed, and on each side of the river varied with hill and dale, with woodland and meadow. The villages and small towns along the whole bank of the Loire are numerous and invariably picturesque and beautiful. In the vicinity of Angers the vineyards are very frequent, and cover the hills, and even the valleys, with their luxuriance: nothing

can be more beautiful than the natural festoons which are formed by their long branches as they project over the road, and when the grapes are ripe, the landscape wants nothing of perfect beauty. The peasantry, the Vignerons as they are called, live in the midst of their vineyards: their habitations are usually excavated out of the rocks and small hillocks on which they grow their vines, and as these hills are usually composed of strata of chalk, the cottages are dry and comfortable. Some of them, as seen from the road, being covered even over their doors by the vine branches, had the appearance of so many nests, and as many of them as had two stories, were picturesque in the extreme. Upon the whole, the condition of the peasantry in this part of France is very comfortable; they are temperate, unceasingly gay, and sufficiently clad; their wants are few, and therefore their labour, added to the fertility of the soil, is sufficient to satisfy them. They repine not for luxuries of which they can have no notion.

We took leave of Monsieur de Corseult on the Wednesday instead of the Monday, but he insisted upon accompanying us on horseback half way to Saumur, where we proposed sleeping. The ladies could not but accept this obliging offer, and the information which Mons. de Corseult was enabled to give us, rendered his society equally agreeable to Mr. Younge and myself. We learned from this gentleman, that though Anjou is reputed to have a great proportion of heath and barren land, it does not yield to any province in France either for beauty or fertility. As much of it as lays along the Loire, I have already had occasion to describe, and what we were now passing through was not a whit behind it. Every village was most romantically situated; some in orchards, some in fenced gardens, some in corn-fields, and others in vales and in recesses on each side of the road. The corn being ripe, added much to the beauty of the landscape. In some fields the reapers were at work, and the harvest was going on with true French gaiety. Sometimes we would see them dancing in the field; sometimes sitting round some central tree sporting and gamboling with the women and girls. I never saw a scene in England which could enter into compa

rison with a French harvest. I was sorry, however, to see that the women had more than their due share of the labour; they reaped, bound, and loaded. Some of the elder women were accordingly very coarse, but the girls were spirited and pleasing. They nodded to us whenever we caught their eyes, and if we stopt our horses, would come to us, at whatever distance, as if to satisfy our inquiries.

We happened to pass an estate which was for sale, and the house being at hand, inquired the price and particulars. There were six hundred acres of land, a good house, and the purchase-money was five thousand pounds English. Four hundred acres were arable, the other wood and heath. In England, the price of such an estate would have been at least twenty thousand pounds.

We reached Saumur very late in the evening: it is a small but very pretty town, on the southern bank of the Loire. There are here two bridges over the river; the one from the northern shore to an island in the middle of the river; the other from the island to the southern shore. Saumur was formerly a fortified city, and though the fortifications are now neglected and in perfect ruin, it still maintains its rank as a military town, and the names of travellers are formally required, and formally registered. The inn at which we put up was very comfortable; but the beds were so scented with lavender as to prevent me from sleeping. Here likewise I had the happiness of being again waited upon by females. A young woman, the daughter of the landlord, not only lighted me to my room, but took her seat at the window, and retained it till she saw that I was in bed. The French women have none of that bashful modesty which characterises the women of England and America. Before getting into bed I was about to close a door which I perceived half open at the extremity of the room opposite to that occupied by my bed; but Felice prevented me, by informing me that her sister and herself were to sleep there, and as a further proof shewing the bed. "Then I must leave my own chamber-door open," said I.Certainly," said she, "if you are not afraid of my sister and me: I have only

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to see if Madame and Mademoiselle are in want of any thing, and then I shall come to bed."-" Where does Mademoiselle sleep?" said I.—In the same chamber with Monsieur and Madame; it is a doublebedded room, on the first floor, fronting the road; you might have observed the casements of it shaded with the barberry tree. But you seem curious as to Mademoiselle; perhaps there is a petite affaire of the heart between you. Well, Heaven bless Monsieur, and may you dream that you are walking with your love in the corn-fields!" Saying this, the sprightly girl left me with the characteristic trip of French gaiety. I had the curiosity to remain awake till her sister and herself passed through my chamber to their own. The girls laughed as they went through the room, and had not even the modesty (for so I must call it) to close their own door; it remained a third part open during the whole night, and as they talked in bed they prevented my sleep. One of these young women might be twenty; the other, though tall, could not be more than fourteen.

I rose early in the morning with the purpose of a walk in the fields around the town, and finding Felice was going to fetch some milk from a village about half a mile distant I accompanied her. It is needless to say that she played off all the coquetrics which are natural to French girls in whatever station. By dint of frequent questions, however, I collected from her some useful information on three points in every French town or village where I might happen to stop-the price of provisions, the price of land, and the price of house rent. The price of provisions at Saumur, as I learned from this girl, was very cheap: beef, not very good, that is not very fat, about three-halfpence (English) per pound; mutton and veal about twopence; two fow's eightpence; two ducks tenpence; geese and turkies from one shilling and sixpence to two shillings and sixpence; fuel, as much as would serve three fires for the year, about five pounds; a house of two stories and garrets, two rooms in front and two in back in each story, such being the manner in which they are built, a passage running through the middle, and the rooms being on each side-such a house,

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