French people of the lower order, male or female, in town or country, with a sorrowful face when they imagined themselves well dressed.

The last time I was at Abbeville, I read an inscription on a column in one of the churches, respecting the chevalier La Bar, who was executed in this town on account of some indignity he was accused of having shewn to an old wooden image of the Virgin, which stood on the bridge. He was said to have wounded it in the shoulder with his couteau de chasse, as he staggered from a tavern, in company with a set of young men as thoughtless and intoxicated as himself. This piece of étourderie, which might with propriety have been punished by some weeks imprisonment, occasioned a greater alarm, about thirty years ago, in this town and its neighbourhood, than the march of the German armies at present. Although the wound in the image was but slight, the Virgin was supposed to be mortally offended; many prayers and processions were made to expiate the offence. After all, some, who judged of her disposition by their own, took pains to persuade the people that nothing would satisfy her, or avert the vengeance of heaven, but the life of the chevalier La Bar -A criminal process was carred on with the hottest zeal, and a sentence obtained against him.

The unhappy youth was beheaded accordingly, and an account of the whole transaction was inscribed in letters of gold in the principal church, for the instruction of posterity. Of late, however, this inscription has been removed, which has given offence, I understand, to the zealous people of this place.

While we were at supper, the landlord of the inn read us part of a letter which he had just received from Paris, giving an account of petitions that had been read in the national assembly, requiring a declaration of the dechéance, that is, of the king's having forfeited the crown. We, expressed surprise at this, and I asked the landlord what he thought of it? Mais ma foi, monsieur,'* said he,

'Faith, sir.

with emphasis and gesticulation-and then pausing, he turned the answer into a question, saying, Que voulezvous qu'on pense, monsieur ?** This was the amount of the landlord's opinion, which he never varied, though he spoke several times afterwards on the same subject.

Clermont, August 6.

We met many carriages with people flying from Paris: wherever we stopped, or had any opportunity of conversing with them, they gave an alarming account of the state of that city, and were surprised at our thinking of going there at this time. They all seemed to be impressed with the notion that an important event is about to happen.

One man said, that certain people had been of late engaged in a conspiracy which would break out on the ninth of this month. We could not help smiling at the notion of a conspiracy which was so well known beforehand, and considered his apprehensions as groundless.

I asked, however, a genteel looking man who had just arrived at this place in the diligence, whether he thought there was any danger in being at Paris? Pas le moindre,'t answered he. They talk, said I, of dethroning the king. Tant pis pour lui,' said the man; mais cela ne vous regarde pas. To hear a Frenchman talk with so much indifference of dethroning a king, however petty the monarch might be, was what I did not expect ; but to hear him speak with the same indifference of dethroning his own king, that, I confess, astonished me. I remember the time when the most dreadful convulsion of mature would have been considered in France as of less importance, and would have occasioned less alarm.

Paris, Aug. 7.

We left Clermont early this morning, and were too impatient to get to Paris to stop long at Chantilly, which,

What would you have me to think?

+ Not the least.

So much the worse for him, but that is nothing to you.

besides, wears at present a less inviting aspect than it used to do. While the horses were changing, I asked a poor fellow in rags, who assisted the postillion, if the people wished for the return of the prince?

All the poor do, said the man.

He was very charitable then? said I.

• Charitable comme un autre,' replied the man, mais il étoit riche comme mille.'*

It would be unfortunate for the country, then, said I, if his vast estate should ever be divided among a thousand proprietors ?

Ouida pour les pauvres assurément,' replied he, parceque c'est des bontés des princes et des grands que les pauvres vivent.'+

Finding the reasoning of this philosopher unanswerable, I took my leave of him, and proceeded to Paris, where we arrived about two o'clock, at the Hotel de Moscovie in the fauxbourg St. Germain. After dinner we drove to the gardens of the Palais Royal, which swarmed with people of all sorts, who had as little the air of apprehension of an approaching enemy, and less the air of anxiety of any kind than those we left on crossing the Channel. The piazzas resounded with various kinds of musical instruments, and the voices of those who sung as they walked or danced along. I asked a shopkeeper if they had received any very good news from the frontiers. 'Rien, monsieur,' answered he, depuis le manifesto de Brunswick.' +

From the Palais Royal we went to the national assembly. Here the scene was not so gay: the debate was carried on with a degree of violence which I have hardly ever seen equalled; yet the subject, while I staid, was not of a nature which one could have expected would much inflame the passions-it regarded certain bells which they proposed to coin into money.

• Charitable like another man-but as rich as a thousand.

+ Yes assuredly, for the poor, because it is through the bounty of princes and lords that the poor live.

Nothing, answered he, since Brunswick's manifesto.

After being informed of what had passed at Paris a few days before our arrival, we had more reason to be surprised at the easy air and gaiety of the inhabitants, than at the alarm of those we met on the road hurrying from this city.

On the 3d of this month, M. Dejoly, the minister of justice, delivered a message to the national assembly from the king, respecting the manifesto of the duke of Brunswick, although his majesty declares at the same time, that in his opinion the manifesto does not bear sufficient marks of authenticity. He asserts that he had been averse to the war, and had adopted that measure only in compliance with the unanimous opinion of his council; but that since the declaration of war he had neglected no measure to insure its success; that his efforts would augment in proportion to the urgency of events; and that he would act in concert with the assembly, to render the evils inseparable from war, profitable for the liberty and honour of the nation-with many other patriotic expressions.

On its being moved, that this message from the king should be ordered to be printed, which is the usual mark of respect shewn by the assembly to the addresses or petitions it approves, the motion was opposed. One of the members observed, that it was not by words, but by actions, that the king should prove his love of liberty and the constitution.

M. Isnard went farther; he offered to prove that what the king asserted was not true.' He was interrupted, not so much on account of the indecency of this expression, as because he wandered from the question in debate, which was, whether the king's letter ought to be printed or not. It was observed that what he had said was precisely in point, because, if he proved that the contents of the letter were not true, it followed that it ought not to be printed.

Isnard then said,

That when fanatical priests had attempted to kindle a civil war, the assembly had proposed repressive decrees, which the king had refused to sanction.

That he had dismissed the patriotic ministers who possessed the confidence of the nation; that he must have been acquainted for more than a year with the treaty of Pilnitz, yet he had taken no measure to defeat it, or to procure allies for France; that the ministers had promis ed to have 150,000 men ready to act; and yet, although war was declared, nothing near the number was levied, and those who were, had not been properly armed; and finally, that every measure had been taken to render the enemy's attack on France successful.'

Another member said, That the only thing which had determined the king to send the message was, that he knew that the majority of the sections were about to address the assembly to divest him of the crown.'

After a warm debate, the letter from his majesty was not ordered to be printed.

On the same day Petion, the mayor of Paris, at the head of a deputation of the common council, and attended by a great number of citizens from the different sections, came to the bar of the assembly, and presented an address of a very extraordinary nature.

It began by expressions of sorrow for the necessity of accusing the chief of the executive power, and proceeded to declare, that although the people have great reason to be enraged against Lewis XVI, yet as the appearance of anger does not become power, they will use the language of moderation.' In this language of moderation, therefore, all that his enemies ever accused the king of previous to his accepting of the constitution, was minutely enumerated, accompanied by a declaration that all those crimes were obliterated, and covered by the pardon granted by the people. But the addressers declare, that they cannot help mentioning the king's ingratitude to a people who have behaved so generously to him. What right had he (say they) to expect they would replace him on the throne, after he had attempted to fly from France that he might reign at Coblentz? Could he found his expectation on his descent from a race of kings, among twenty of which