cal talents, and the fascinations of her taste, drew around her all the literati of the city. The house is yet standing in which she used to hold her evening parties once a week, and charm the social circle, with the flashes of her fancy and the display of her colloquial powers. Such was her fame as to give name to the street in which she lived. Her memoirs, with specimens of her poetry, have recently been published at Lyons.

February, 1826.-On the 6th we left Lyons in the Diligence for Avignon; a distance of one hundred and fifty miles. Our departure from the city was across the Rhone, and through the faubourg of Guillotiere, alluded to in a former letter. As the suburbs in this direction had already been seen, a ride of an hour or two by starlight probably did not occasion the loss of many interesting objects. The day dawned, the morning opened, and the sun rose pleasantly upon rural and highly picturesque scenery, composed of woody hills, retired vales, and scattered villages, skirting the banks of the Rhone, eight or ten miles below Lyons. Farther on, the country becomes more rugged, and the soil bar

ren.

The coach reached Vienne at 9 o'clock, where we took breakfast. This town was the capital of the warlike tribe of the Allobrages, so often mentioned in the commentaries of Cæsar. It became an important place, after falling into the hands of the Romans, and it is yet full of antiquities. The remains of one or two old fortresses, upon the brow of a precipitous and craggy hill impending over the city, present a romantic view. Near by are the ruins of an amphitheatre. But the most interesting object at Vienne is the magnificent quay, which stretches along the Rhone, whose sea-green waters here sweep down with a bold and impetuous current.

He

A rock is shown near the shore, whence it is said Pontius Pilate threw himself and put an end to his existence. was banished hither by Tiberius Cæsar. Vienne was long the rival of Lyons, the latter being a colony from the former. Vestiges of ancient jealousy still exist between the two places, although they have long ceased to wage a competition in trade, the one containing a population of only 15,000, and the other 150,000.

On leaving the town we passed the cathedral, a venerable gothic pile, with two stately towers rising amidst smaller turrets. Seated upon a plain, between the road and the river, is an ancient and curious monument, supposed by some to be the mausoleum of a distinguished Roman. It is quadrangular at the base, with four open arches. Tradition refers it to the age of Severus, or even as far back as the reign of Augustus.

A lofty range of mountains extends along the right bank of the Rhone, as far as the eye can reach, the summits being snow-clad, and the sides girt with terraces of vineyards, which at a distance have the appearance of natural strata. The left shore of the river is flat, with glimpses of the Alps in the distance, basking like white clouds in the morning sun. Nearly the whole of this region is appropriated to the cultiva tion of the vine and the mulberry, imparting a uniform aspect to the scenery, The soil is thin, gravelly, and apparently not very fertile, though by industry rendered productive. Almost every post brought us to a region celebrated for some new species of wine. The mulberry tree is planted in orchards, grows to the height of fifteen or twenty feet, with a spreading top, not unlike the butternut of our country. Its leaves, as is well known, form the exclusive food of the silk-worm, one of the staple commodities of the district.

The houses in all this region are uniform in their construction, being built of rude stone and mortar, and the walls covered with a thick coat of stucco. At a distance the white villages show to advantage, but will not bear a close examination. The streets are generally narrow, dirty, and often poverty-stricken, though the people do not appear to be wanting in activity and industry. Fewer beggars were observed on this road, than in any part of France.

The navigation of the Rhone is peculiar, and struck us as a novelty. In descending, the rapidity of the current is sufficient to bear down vessels without oars or sails; but the

ascent is extremely arduous, and so expensive as almost to annihilate the advantages of a navigable channel. In the course of the day, we saw strings of ten or twelve boats fastened together and drawn along the shore at a snail's pace, by a team of twenty horses. At certain seasons the torrent

is so headlong, as to obstruct all navigation in either direction. The margin of the river, for the greater part of the way, is composed of banks of pebbles and barren sand, swept down by the floods.

At 4 o'clock in the afternoon, we reached the town of St. Vallier, situated in the midst of a fertile plain, abounding with fruit trees of various kinds, and producing a large kind of chestnut, called marrons de Lyons, famous in Paris, as well as in all the south of France. Persons make a business of roasting this kind of nut, along the side-walks of the metropolis and other towns, selling it while hot as a luxury to the passenger. It is about twice the size of an American chestnut, and not unlike it in taste.

Soon after leaving St. Vallier, we rode for a mile or two along a terrace, impending over the turbulent and azure waters of the Rhone, with high and rugged hills on the left. Several of the eminences are crowned with ruined fortresses, looking down upon the vale, and presenting many picturesque views. At one point a village literally overhangs the wave, which dashes with the grandeur of the ocean on the rocks beneath. This is perhaps the most romantic part of the vale of the Rhone. Just at twilight the coach reached the village of Tain, pleasantly situated on both sides of the river, and connected by a stately bridge. It carries on an extensive trade in Hermitage and Cote Rotie wines, celebrated for their excellence and produced in great quantities in the neighbourhood.

Soon after leaving this place, we crossed the Isere, a large and rapid branch of the Rhone, with which it unites a mile or two below the ferry. Its banks are celebrated in the wars of the Romans, and subsequently of the Goths. A battle was here fought by Camillus, in which something like a hundred thousand were left upon the field. The low and barren shores of the stream are so swept by torrents from the Alps at certain seasons, that no bridge will stand, and the river is crossed in the same way as Schoharie Creek, by cables extended from large timbers on either side. It was so dark that the cordage could not be seen, and the boat appeared to glide

across without oars or sails, while the creaking of the iron rings in the air over our heads was at first mistaken for the shrill cry of a bird of prey, hovering in darkness above the

stream.

At 8 o'clock in the evening, we arrived at the large town of Valence, containing a population of fifteen thousand. Here Pope Pius VI. died in 1799, while an exile from the papal throne. His remains were interred in the Cathedral,

and honoured with a mausoleum from the chisel of Canova. A trifling circumstance afforded us an opportunity of seeing with what grace a pretty French woman could play the termagant. She and her henpecked husband were journeying from Paris to Nismes by the way of Lyons. By mistake he had engaged passages in the wrong coach, in consequence of which she would be kept up another night. On discovering the error, the restraints of a public table and of a large circle of strangers did not prevent the sallies of her anger, and her open reproaches, which he bore with philosophical coolness. The passengers took sides with the combatants, and made it an affair of as much moment, as a national revolution. At every hotel the discussion was revived with the same warmth, till the moment of our separation at Avignon. The versatility of the French language and the rapidity of French enunciation are admirably adapted to the purposes of a termagant. Here sound is emphatically an echo to the sense; and Homer's animated picture of the domestic strife between Jupiter and Juno would bear no comparison with the passionate and astounding vehemence of this Gallic Xantippe!

Our journey, as it is necessarily the case with travellers in the Diligence, was continued all night. At 4 o'clock in the morning, we reached Montelimart, a large town, the first in France where the protestant religion was preached and established. The glimmering of wasted lamps afforded a glance at its narrow and antique streets. A pause to change horses, and the chilliness of the night, induced us to step into the kitchen of a large old-fashioned hotel, the colossal fire-palce of which, ornamented with regular Gothic pillars, was sadly disproportioned to the quantity of fuel. The smell of garlic with which almost every house in France is strongly imbued, caused a precipitate retreat, suffering from cold being more tolerable than a torture of the senses.

A bright sunny morning found us traversing a wide plain enclosed by an amphitheatre of hills, with snow-capt peaks!

of the Alps in the distance on the left. At the village of Pierrelatte, a lofty ridge of mountains terminates in bold, rugged cliffs, near the bank of the Rhone. The crags of grey rock overhanging the town are crowned with ruins, and in some places rude habitations seemed to have been scooped out of the perpendicular bluff. From the beautiful plain which the road traverses after leaving this village, there is a fine view of Mont Ventoux, or the Mountain of the Winds, at the distance of several miles to the left. It is the highest hill in all this region, its snowy top being often lost in the clouds, while its base is covered with perennial verdure. Petrarch climbed to its summit in the year 1336. He has given an amusing account of his excursion in a letter to Father Dennis, written in a cottage at the foot of the mountain, on a bright moonlight evening. Seated upon the highest peak, he says his eye insensibly turned towards Italy, his native country, and rested upon the barrier through which the proud enemy of the Romans, (Hannibal) hewed a passage. The Mediterranean was distinctly seen; the Rhone glided beneath him; and the clouds were at his feet. "Never," exclaims he, 66 was there a more extensive, variegated, and enchanting prospect !" His letter relates an incident which seemed so marvellous, that he thought it necessary to call God and his brother, (the companion of his tour,) to bear witness to its truth. On opening the Confessions of St. Augustine, which had been taken with him to aid his solitary meditations, his eye accidentally fell on the following passage:" Men go far to observe the summits of mountains, the waters of the sea, the beginnings and the courses of rivers, the immensity of the ocean; but they neglect themselves!" Such a lesson, learned amidst the solitudes of Ventoux, made a deep impression upon his heart, and augmented his sense of guilt arising from his unconquerable passion for Laura.

At a milder season, and under more favourable circumstances, we might have been tempted to follow the footsteps of Petrarch to the summit of this mountain. But the mistral, a keen, piercing wind from the north-west, yet whistled round its bleak top, and swept the plain, which the fancy of certain tourists has clothed in unfading beauty. "Nothing," says one of our itineraries, "can equal the climate and landscapes of Orange; here the eyes are ravished and the imagination feasted; here we seem to forget the world, and wish