Mars." "Yes," replied another, "there she is, leaning
back in her carriage, as though she were afraid to look
at us."
"What," observed Mlle. Mars, "what have the
garde du corps to do with MARS?" This sharp retort, to
men who wore their military garb for show, and not for
service, arrested them effectually from making further
observations.

A DISCOVERY.-There has lately been discovered at Cuxac, a village about a league from Narbonne, a bronze statue of Venus, resembling the Venus de Medicis in so far that the body inclines forward, resting upon the left leg; the head is gracefully and slightly turned towards the left, and the arms are so placed as to conceal with modesty the charms of her person. There is, however, this difference, that the head is ornamented with a diadem, and the hair, though partly tressed up, falls in part in elegant ringlets on the shoulders. A large vase of terra cotta, four feet in diameter, containing ashes and burnt bones, a statue of the Bona Dea, a small serpentine stone, and a great quantity of Roman bricks, have also been found. It is believed that the spot at which these relics have been picked up, was formerly the site of an ancient villa, on the banks of the lake called Rubresus.

NEW COMET.-The journal of the Two Sicilies, of June 10, states that Sr. Bogalowski, director of the Royal Observatory at Breslaw, discovered a new telescopic comet on the 20th of April, in the constellation Patera, to which, if still visible, the attention of other astronomers is directed.

Literary Entelligence.

Mr. Bulwer has just committed to the press the work to which he alluded in his last publication, "The Student," and on which he has been so long engaged; it is, we believe, entitled "Athens; its Rise and Fall, with Views of the Arts and Sciences, the Literature and Com. merce of the Athenian People."

Miss Landon has, we hear, nearly completed the printing of her new poem, "The Vow of the Peacock," illus trating, it will be recollected, the beautiful picture by Madame Lise, in the exhibition of the Royal Academy. Dr. Hogg's interesting Travels in the East, entitled "A Visit to Alexandria, Damascus, &c.," will appear early in the present month.

Mr. Chorley, whose lively Sketches of a Sea-port Town, have been so much admired, has in press a Series of Tales, the scene of which is, we believe, chiefly laid in Italy.

The author of "Pictures of Private Life," Miss Stickney, will shortly present to the public a work of an original character, entitled "The Poetry of Life." A second edition of Mr. Bulwer's new work, "The Student," will appear in a few days.

The third edition of that elegant little work, "The Language of Flowers," much improved, and revised by the editor of the "Forget Me Not," has just appeared. The Rev. Robert Montgomery, has nearly ready for publication, a fourth edition revised, of his powerfully conceived work, entitled "Satan, a Poem."

Mrs. Jameson has just committed to the press, a new edition, being the third, of her much admired work, "The Characteristics of Women."

MASSIVE NATIVE GOLD.-A vary rare and curious specimen of massive native gold, found in the mine Chuquiagillo, at a short distance from La Paz, the capital of Bolivia, has excited considerable attention among the mineralogists of London. It contains three different The second and concluding volume of M. de Tocquiqualities of gold, of twenty-two, twenty-three, and twenty-ville's interesting work, "Democracy in America," transthree and a half carots, without the admixture of any lated by his friend, Mr. Reeve, with a map of the United ore, and weighs nearly two pounds. The specimen of States, is now ready. native gold in the Royal Museum at Madrid, weighs forty pounds; but this is nothing more than gold ore, and it cannot be properly termed a specimen of massive na. tive gold. The piece brought from La Paz, is supposed to be unique.

"A History of English Literature, Critical and Philosophical," by Mr. D'Israeli.

A new edition of the works of Sir John Suckling, with a Life of the Author, and Critical remarks on his Wri tings and Genius. By the Rev. Alfred Suckling, LL.B. EGYPT. The produce of cotton has this year amount- Researches on the Organisation, Functions, and Dised to 250,000 quintals. The average price at which it eases of Membranus Secreting Textures; with Original has been sold being 25 dollars, the pacha has thus real-Plans, showing the Inflections and Continuity of Mem. ised the sum of 6,250,000 Spanish dollars.

A bedstead and table of solid gold, two massive chairs of silver, two elephants, two Arabian horses, two dwarf buffaloes, and many valuable shawls, worth 80,000l., have | been presented by the king of Oude to the king of England. The elephants have been presented one to each of the Zoological gardens.

BOTANY AND GARDENING.-The "Gardeners' Magazine" contains an account of the Duke of Devonshire's new arboretum at Chatsworth, in which Mr. Paxton remarks that an estate of three acres may be planted, with an eye to beauty as well as science, with 1200 species of trees and shrubs. At Chatsworth there will be 2000 species, each with all the accommodation a tree could desire, and there is room for 2000 more if they should be discovered. There are already 1670 kinds of trees in 75 natural groups, covering about forty acres.

OLD COINS.-A vast quantity of silver and gold coins, of the reigns of Queen Elizabeth and James the First, were lately discovered in the sands at Conway, Wales, by a poor girl of that neighbourhood. Several of them are in the possession of Mr. Griffiths, the governor of Shrewsbury county jail, and in good preservation. Those of Elizabeth (1582) describe her as queen of France and Ireland; those of James, as king of Great Britain, France, and Hibernia; with the characteristic motto, "States which God hath joined, let no one separate."

The interesting Travels and Adventures in Eastern Africa, of Nathaniel Isaacs, Esq., are nearly ready.

branes. By Thomas Turner, M.R.C.S.L. &c. &c.
History of the Condition of Women, in all Ages and
Nations. By Mrs. Childs, author of "Child's Own
Book," "Mother's Book," &c.

Graphics: a Manual of Drawing and Writing, for the use of Schools and Families. By R. Peale.

An interesting volume, entitled "Recollections of the Private Life of General Lafayette," is about to be pub lished by Messrs. Galignani, of Paris. It is written by his friend and surgeon, M. H. Cloquett, who was furnished with the materials by the general himself. An English edition, translated under the eye of the author, will be published in London on the same day the original will appear in Paris.

Among the novelties, for the forthcoming season, WÊ have to announce a new work to be called the English Annual, two volumes of which have already appeared. but the whol the editions have been exported to Ame rica and the continent. The volume, in consequence certain facilities, which the proprietor exclusively enjoys, will be offered in a form considerably larger and cheaper than similar publications, and in all respects equal to them in its graphic and literary contents.

The Oriental Annual for 1836, by the Rev. H. Caunter, B.D., will exceed either of its predecessors, in the variety and beauty of the illustrations from the pencil of W. Daniell, Esq. R.A., as the great success of the last two years has encouraged the proprietor to spare no expense to render it still more worthy of public patronage.

From the London Court Journal.

THE FOSTERMOTHER'S CURSE.

BY MRS. FAIRLIE.

gown, upon which I either perceived, or fancied I perceived stains of blood, and taking up a broken stick, dug a hole in the earth, placed in it the torn fragment of her gown, and replaced the earth as before; after which, she again washed her hands in the stream, and departed.

I watched her narrowly till she was out of sight; then proceeding to the spot where she had buried the linen, an impulse for which I cannot account led me to place over it a large stone. I returned home in an agony of excitement and fear. I could not forget the scene I had just witnessed, and it preyed the more on my mind because I had no one to consult in my father's absence.

Though I have scarce passed the summer of life, my soul is sick with affliction that cannot be assuaged, my body bent to the earth by premature decay. I bear the burning brand of Cain upon my forehead, yet I never knowingly injured any human being, much less could my hand have been steeped in the blood of a brother. My tale is simple, and bears its own moral; to record it is a relief to my mind. I am dwelling in a land of strangers, and when the grave has closed over me, this writing will assign a cause for those I knew Moya Bourke too well to be mistaken peculiarities of habit and temper which now ren-in her person; and in what but guilt could have der me an object, sometimes of fear, always of originated the mysterious conduct I had observed? compassion, to my kind-hearted neighbours." I was born in the north of Ireland, and am the termined to seek Moya at her own cottage, and I rose at dawn, after a sleepless night, deyounger of two sons. Nature had been bountiful demand an explanation. The path from my to my brother, in external as well as intellectual father's house to her little dwelling lay along the endowments; upon me she had bestowed a sickly banks of the brook. When near the spot where I constitution and a weak frame. Unable to join had stood on the preceding evening, I was startled in the bodily sports of my schoolfellows, I had at beholding Moya before me. She was searchrecourse to the misdirected pleasures of the ima-ing for something on the ground. I walked rapidly gination. Acted upon by the traditionary legends towards her. related to me by the neighbouring peasantry, I had become gloomy and suspicious, and I reveled in the delight of imagining horrible things. Even the most simple transaction, in my heated fancy, covered some horrid deed; and I shall scarcely be credited when I say that the painful excitement awakened by such thoughts was sought for by me as a source of enjoyment. As some men find pleasure in the excitement of danger, mine lay in that of terror, almost to the bereavement of my senses. I had besides, and perhaps as a natural consequence of these feelings, an insatiable curiosity to penetrate whatever seemed mysterious, and to give utterance to my own conjectures upon all that baffled my research. Thus I was at sixteen years of age, and though my heart yearned with kindness and love, my prying disposition had rendered me an object of dread and detestation to my father's neighbours.

One summer evening I had been rambling at some distance from home. My father was then absent, having gone to Dublin upon business. During my walk I had conjured up a thousand dreadful phantoms connected with the past and present, and had wrought up my mind to a more than usual degree of excitement, when at a little distance before me I perceived a woman who had nursed my brother. She was standing alone, and the bright beams of the moon in a cloudless sky enabled me to perceive that she was looking on every side as if in alarm. As she evidently sought to shun observation, I resolved to discover what she was doing. Under the concealment of a large tree, I succeeded in getting within five or six paces of her. Fancying nobody near, she washed her hands in a brook that flowed close to the tree whose broad trunk concealed me from her view. Having concluded her ablutions, she lifted up her hands as if to examine them by the light of the moon; then suddenly exclaiming, "There are blood-spots still," tore off the wristband of her VOL. XXVII. DECEMBER, 1835-69

"What! here again, Moya?" said I. She turned to me in evident trepidation,

out noticing my question. "Troth, an' it's 'arly "Is that you, Masther Shamus?" she said, withye're up this mornin'."

bad dreams-I dreamt of murder." She changed "I could not sleep, Moya," I replied. "I had

a

colour.

"Never heed drames, Masther Shamus, dear." "Some dreams are true, Moya."

"Hush! hush! Come, now, isn't it a pity for likely young jintleman like yourself to be croaking like an ould crone ?"

"I dreamt I saw you here by moonlight, Moya," said I, "and-"

"Me here?"

I

She tried to laugh, but her voice was hoarse and the sound awful and hollow. She attempted to turn the conversation, and was evidently anxious to get rid of me, but I was resolved to obtain her secret. She had aroused dreadful suspicions within me, which her manner tended to confirm. At length I determined to leave her, and go to her cottage during her absence. reached the door, but it was locked, and I looked in at the window. A turf fire was smouldering on the hearth, before which hung a gown that I had given to Moya ;-it was of coloured cottonI recognised it by the pattern. I now seated myself upon a flowery bank near the little garden to await Moya's return, and fixed upon various phrases wherewith to accost her. When she appeared, I perceived that she was surprised at my being there. I now found it impracticable to speak as I had intended:-I could not utter a word. Who has not felt this? Who is there that has not conned over a dozen set phrases in the absence of him they would accuse, or of her they love, and yet is powerless to utter them when the person appears to whom they were to be ad

dressed? Thus it was with me. To gain time, | concerned in the disappearance of Smithson. I I asked Moya for a drink of milk.

had been unintentionally her accuser. A brain "An' welcome," she replied, entering her cot- fever, which brought me to the verge of the grave. tage. I followed her. A shudder crept through (from which I have lived to lament that I was my frame as I took the wooden bowl and held it snatched,) prevented my knowing any thing of to my lips; but my feelings are easier conceived passing events. But it appears that I had been than described, when, on raising the sleeve of the most circumstantial in my tale, having related gown which hung by the fire, I perceived that the even the fact of my placing a stone to mark the wristband was torn off. I rushed out of the cot-spot where Moya had buried the torn wristband. tage. On reaching home, I shut myself up in The place was examined and the wristband found. my own apartment, and threw myself upon a It matched in pattern, and fitted the tear in her chair. Here an impulse suddenly seized me to gown. Neither did Moya deny its being hers. seek my father; and the stage-coach passing al-To this was added a circumstance that seemed to most at the same instant that the thought occurred, place her guilt beyond a doubt. On the evening I entered it with a small bundle containing a in question, Smithson was seen to enter her cotchange of clothes. That night I reached Dublin. tage before nightfall, and just after dusk, either a My journey had been solitary during the greatest wounded person or a corpse was carried out of it part of the road, and my feelings were so exacer-by four men, but whither conveyed no one knew. bated, by solitude, that by the time I arrived I Of this person, whom Moya stated to be a woundwas in an alarming state of nervous irritation. ed man, she refused to give any further account. Immediately the coach stopped, I entered a car, The assizes took place a few days after her comand ordered the driver to proceed at his swiftest mittal, and the unhappy woman was convicted of pace to the hotel at which my father usually the murder of Smithson. She heard the awful lodged. He was not there. I again entered the sentence of the law with much calmness, but pervehicle and drove to the house of a friend with sisted in asserting her entire innocence of the whom he had frequent mercantile transactions, foul crime of which she was accused. She deand to my surprise and dismay learned that four clared she had paid her tithe to Robert Smithson, days previously he had sailed for England, and and he had left her house alive and well, on the had said that he should probably be obliged to go evening in question. The day appointed for Moya's execution soon arrived. The wretched victim was on her knees preparing for her last sacrifice, when she heard loud shouts from without the prison walls.

to France.

"I will follow him," said I. Mr. Dwyer stared at me.

"Follow him! my dear James," he said. "What mean you? What has occurred, my dear boy, to agitate you in this manner?"

and years before them."

At that moment the clergyman entered her cell. "Is it time?" she asked, with composure. "I came to speak a few words to you, Mrs. Bourke," returned Mr. Lynch, evading a reply. "I wish to ask if you still persist in denying the murder of Robert Smithson?"

"As I am a Christian woman, I swear now in my last hour that I am perfectly innocent."

"I believe you, Moya," said the clergyman. "I all along believed you guiltless, and now others are of my opinion."

"Great God!" she exclaimed, "who would have thought they'd be so impatient for the death I threw myself upon a couch, and burst into of a fellow Christian, as to begrudge me a few tears. Mr. Dwyer soothed me, and strove to per-moments of life when they have days, and months, suade me to reveal the source of my uneasiness, and the reason of my having left home. I requested him not to question my motives any further that evening, but to allow me the night to reconsider all. He complied with my wishes. A room in his house was speedily prepared for me, and I shortly after retired to bed. Strange and horrible dreams haunted me, shapeless forms flitted before my eyes, and yells of pain and despair rang in my ears. I awoke in a high fever; delirium soon followed, and at length my loud ravings brought Mr. Dwyer and some of the domestics to my bed-side. In my frenzy I told all that I had witnessed, and my reasons for seeking my father. I related the particulars so clearly that my host considered it his duty to see the lord lieutenant, and state to him all that had oc- By degrees Mr. Lynch broke to the poor concurred. Being a personal friend of the viceroy, demned one the tidings that Robert Smithson he had no difficulty in obtaining an interview; and had made his appearance at the very door of the while they were conversing, an official paper was prison, and had presented himself before a magisplaced in Lord's hands, dated from my native trate; that this fact had been stated to the lord place, and signed by three magistrates, requesting lieutenant, who had sent an order for her immeassistance from the capital to discover what had be-diate release. Though this intelligence was comcome of one Robert Smithson, a tithe proctor, who municated with great caution, the revulsion of had been two days missing, and for whom search feeling was too great, and Moya fell senseless had been made in vain. The lord lieutenant upon the floor. handed the paper to Mr. Dwyer, who agreed with his lordship that its contents appeared to have some connection with the tale I had revealed.

"Thank God!" said Moya, the tears streaming from her eyes; "when I am gone, all will not say, 'Moya Bourke had the stain of blood upon her soul.""

*

*

My brother Edward, as soon as he had finished his school studies, had been sent to Trinity ColOrders were immediately despatched for the ap-lege, with a liberal pecuniary allowance from my prehension of Moya Bourke, on suspicion of being father. Being a lively, good-natured, and gene

rous youth, he soon became a general favourite | pelled to leave Dublin suddenly-and he intended with his fellow students. Poor Edward! at home, to have done so on the following day--but on the all loved him. He danced well, was an excel-receipt of his note, Mr. O'Ferrall came to my lent hurler, sang a merry and a sentimental song brother's chambers, and in the presence of several equally well, and was universally liked by the of his friends, made use of such language, that a gentler sex. His thoughtlessness frequently led hostile meeting was the consequence. him into scrapes, from which, however, his quick and ready wit never failed to extricate him. He had deep blue eyes and curly hair; and his almost constant smile exhibited a perfect and beautiful set of teeth.

At college, though none knew when he studied, he cut a very respectable figure; and at the period my unhappy tale commences, he had just taken his degree with some éclat.

It took place early on the ensuing morning, and O'Ferrall fell, mortally wounded as it was feared. Edward had also received a severe wound, but as he had still strength to walk, he was advised to make the best of his way to a place of concealment. With great difficulty he got into a post-chaise, driven by a ragged, curly-headed, and bare-footed postilion, picked up in the streets of Dublin, and proceeded from stage to stage, till he At a ball, Edward first met Blanche O'Ferrall, reached the cottage of his nurse, Moya Bourke. whose beauty made a strong impression upon On arriving there he fainted, and his wound aphim. Her father, a needy man with a large peared of a more serious character than he had at family, soon perceived the effect of his daugh- first imagined. The faithful creature was deeply ter's charms upon my brother, and sedulously ex- and sincerely grieved when she saw her fostererted himself to increase and render it permanent. son in this condition,-but still more so, when, in Edward was invited to the house, parties were reply to her entreaties to be allowed to send for formed on his account; he had constant opportu- "the docther," Edward informed her that he had, nities of seeing the young lady, and his admira- he feared, killed a man, and came to her to contion of Blanche soon ripened into a strong attach-ceal him from the police.

ment.

"Ohone, Ohone ma gra! and are ye hidin' She evidently perceived my brother's regard, yerself from the pelece. That I should live to and the lover attributed a certain restraint in her see my own garçoon in dhread of a jail. My manner to reciprocal feeling. But he was shortly darlint ye wor ever and always, and it's your ould awakened from his joyous dream of requited love. nurse that 'ill hide ye. Wait now till I put some One evening, as he was taking leave of Blanche, dressing on yer wound. Oh! the rascal, to be she contrived to slip a note into his hand unob-afther hurting ye. Bad luck to him a thousand served, and to whisper in his ear, "Read it when you are alone." He smiled, pressed the taper fingers of the fair girl, and departed. On reaching his apartment, he eagerly opened the billet, which contained these words:

"We are never, as you may perceive, left alone for a single instant, and I am narrowly watched, or I should long since have informed you that my affections were engaged long before our acquaintance commenced. This my parents know, but they little suspect that I am the wife of him I love. I rely upon your honour not to betray me. My father is making arrangements to procure for my husband an appointment abroad, thinking thus to separate us for ever. When the situation becomes his beyond power of recall, we purpose avowing our marriage, and I will share his exile. But were our secret suspected, my father would, by depriving him of the appointment, condemn us both to poverty. Make any excuse you please, but desist, I implore you, from your attentions to me. Above all things, keep my secret.

times every day he sees a pavin'-stone, and ten thousand times every day he does not!"

While thus lamenting his misfortunes, Moya Bourke acted as Edward's surgeon, applying to his wound such simple remedies as she could procure. She did not wish him to leave her, but he feared being traced to her cottage, and bringing trouble on his faithful and affectionate nurse. He therefore insisted on seeking concealment in a small hut in the mountains, where illicit distillation had formerly been carried on, but which was now deserted. Hither he was borne by four of Moya's neighbours, on whose discretion and fidelity she could depend. She herself accompanied him, carrying for his use some oat cakes, butter, hard boiled eggs, a small jug of milk, and a bottle of whiskey. She made him a rude bed of fern, and imploring the blessings of Providence on his head, left him. It was on her road homeward that I saw and watched her. Her affection for her foster-child led her to exaggerate his danger. Should he be found, she imagined that a disgraceful death on the gallows would be his doom. The blood on her sleeve and hands had flowed from my brother's wound. As it caught her eye, she hastened to obliterate the stains, lest they should excite enquiry. Would that on the following morning, when I sought an explanation, Moya had given me one!-but she feared my inquisitive disposition and nervous -he imagined he could never recover the blow irritability, and thought that if I knew of my broinflicted upon his peace. He instantly decided ther's danger, my alarm would betray him, paron not seeing Blanche again, for some time at ticularly if, as she expected would be the case, least. He knew not how he should account to the police should search my father's house for her family for the cessation of his attentions; he, him. With regard to Smithson, some of the peahowever, wrote a few lines, saying, he was com-santry, who had long owed him a grudge, had, on

"BLANCHE."

The effect of this note upon Edward was terrible; a bitter pang shot through his heart. Young, ardent, and loving for the first time,

The first, the very first,

the same evening that my brother reached Moya's | death; I would fain lie under the sod of my nacottage, whither the tithe proctor had gone that tive land. But my father is no more, and Moya very evening and received his tithe, way-laid, Bourke still lives. Since her madness, the mounand carried him to the mountains. What had tain hut has become her abode. As she is perbeen their original plans and intentions I know fectly harmless, she is allowed to roam whither not, but on hearing of the imprisonment and con- she pleases, and she often visits the house of my demnation of Moya Bourke, they liberated Smith-birth. I could not bear to see her-I dare not son, after first administering to him a solemn trust to the chance of meeting her. I must sleep oath that he would immediately, on reaching the my last sleep in this foreign land. town, show himself at the prison, and also to a magistrate; that he would not by any means, direct or indirect, betray who were his captors or detainers; and, finally, that he would quit Ireland before that day month. All this he faithfully executed.

The moment Moya was liberated from the prison, she sped to my father's house. He had but that morning returned, and had learned, with equal surprise and sorrow, that his old servant, who had nursed his son, and been the valued attendant of my departed mother, was about to suffer an ignominious death.

From Fraser's Magazine. BOMBARDINIO IN ITALY.

"Contrasted faults through all their manners reign; Though poor, luxurious; though submissive, vain; Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue; And e'en in penance planning sins anew."-GOLDSMITH. If, on leaving Baden, you propose going to Munich, or into the interior of Germany, you had better go round by Tübingen, instead of taking the usual road by Carlsruhe and Stutdgart; beBut, however much he lamented her fate, his cause the former, though longer, leads through an thoughts were otherwise and sadly occupied. interesting and romantic country, whereas the Edward, whom he had left at Dublin, had disap-latter only traverses a stale, flat, and unprofitable peared immediately after the duel with O'Ferrall, | district.

and from that period no tidings of him had been "Ah! mon prince, how do you do? How are received. My father's anxiety respecting him the lancers of his Imperial Majesty's guard? I was intense. Mr. O'Ferrall was quite out of danger, so that there was no longer any necessity for concealment; and in those days duels were of such common occurrence in Ireland, that they were soon forgotten.

hope you have recovered the fatigues of the Polish campaign?" "You shall hear all that to-morrow as we travel along," said the Prince de W- ; "I suppose you are going to Münich-what else can bring a man to Stutdgart? I am traveling Moya now told my father where Edward was the same way, and there is a place in my droska concealed, and they proceeded together to the for you. It is more convenient than your seat in hut. On opening the door, my poor brother lay the diligence." Now, a seat in a prince's droska there a corpse, and evidently had been dead some is, I know, better than a seat in a German dilidays. Wounded and helpless, he had been un-gence; but, knowing that it has its disadvantages, able to obtain assistance, for the hut lay in an I refused at once, saying, that though I was going unfrequented spot, or to open the door which Moya in her anxiety had locked when she left him. Edward had died of starvation! . . . .

The faithful Moya gazed with a vacant stare at the disfigured remains of her foster-son. My father attempted to rouse her, but in vain. From that hour Moya was a maniac.

Oh! never can I forget the first time she beheld me after this event! So changed in look, in tone, in every thing.

"Shamus," she cried, "my curse be upon you, for you are a murderer. You said I had killed Robert Smithson, but you have destroyed your own brother. Had I not, through your devilish spirit, been thrown into prison, my darling would be alive now. Out, out of my sight, and may the curse of a broken-hearted woman rest on you for ever."

And that curse still clings to me. I have wandered over most parts of the world—I have sought, in distant lands, forgetfulness of those dreadful occurrences, but Moya's curse pursues me every where. Despair has whitened my head, as with the frost of years, and my broken spirit awaits with impatience its call to other spheres. I have long been prepared to die-consumption has fixed its deadly fangs upon me, and has found my sickly frame an easy prey. I would fain see my father's house before I sink into the repose of

to Munich, yet my mode of traveling was so very different from that of all other mortals, that I could not think of being a burden on his highness. But no excuse would satisfy him; "he was an idler like myself, and I should be director-general on the road." I knew pretty well, from former experience, what this meant; but, as the prince was evidently tired of traveling by himself, and as I had, in truth, no very valid excuse to offer, we set off together for the Bavarian capital.

There is certainly nothing between Stutdgart and Augsburg worth turning round to look at; but I had lately been reading Raumer's History of the Hohenstauffen. It is a dry, stiff, and elaborate work, but interesting from the mass of valuable information which it contains. No traveller or historical student should leave it unread; and Lord Francis Egerton should immediately translate it into English. He can afford to work for fame; and here is a book the translation of which will confer fame. His lordship may dedicate it to me for my advice. The reading of this book had made me take a sort of fancy to every thing connected with the heroic race of the Swabian emperors, who, from lords of a simple castle, raised themselves to the sovereignty of Germany, Italy, and Sicily; and one of the objects of my tour was to see the hill of Hohenstauffen, where stood the fortress cradle of that noble and ill fated