be exhibited in such tender years, all the virtues and all the courage of his father; when in the rear of the army, and he heard the cannon, far from be. ing frightened, he became animated, and beating the little drum which he would always have with him, he cried, Victory! Victory! He had an astonishing memory; he knew a multitude of soldiers by name, and in his childish talk he always exhorted them to fight pour bon Dieu et le Roi. I do not exaggerate in saying that his little exhortations, which caused a smile, have more than once animated the ardour of the Vendeans. This child, on the field of battle, was equally cherished by officers and soldiers. M. Henri de la Rochejaquelein took the most tender interest in him, and he had such especial care of him, that he always had him to sleep with him. "I set off for Varades, where I found MM. de la Rochejaquelein and d'Autichamp, who informed me that my husband, before he expired, had committed me to their protection. They declared to me that I must resolve always to follow the army, because in that manner alone could they direct their attentions towards me, and consequently answer for my safety;-I submitted to this without hesitation. "The war still continued, and as I was proceeding with my children to join the rear of the army, I heard the cannon afar off. I had heard it often when M, de Bonchamps was at the head of his troops; for, whenever he quitted me, he always left me in some house near the field of battle, and then this terrible sound of murderous artillery caused in me a shuddering, of which nothing can express the horror;-M. de Bonchamps then fought.-But now that I had nothing to fear for him, this same sound caused me only a feeling of mournful remembrance of those tears which it used to draw from me ;--never after the death of my husband did this alarming noise produce to me the slightest emotion;---I had exhausted every sensation of grief and terror of this kind. "I followed the army to the end of the war." At the close of this disastrous strug gle commenced her flights and peculiar dangers. At one place she writes, "As I was in great want of sleep, I threw myself upon the bed, and slept profoundly. I was abruptly roused at five o'clock by the mistress of the house, who came in haste to tell me that the blues were coming into those parts. I had only time to save myself, with my two children and the girl who followed us, in order to reach the village of Saint-Herbolon. The distance between that village and Ancenis is hardly four leagues ;-but although we set off at five o'clock in the evening, we only reached Saint Herbolon at six in the morning. It is true we were on foot, and that I carried Hermenée on my back ;-my servant carried my daughter. the blues at a distance; and then we were obliged to go back: I am convinced that in this flight we walked six or seven leagues. Having reached Saint-Herbolon, after having been exposed to a thousand dangers, we were hospitably received at a farm;—that very day a burning fever obliged us all three to be put to bed. My daughter and myself found our bodies covered with pustules; it was the small-pox. The symptoms were very mild in my little girl, and myself; but with Hermenée the eruption was imperfect, and in that moment he gave me the most heart-rending anxiety. We often saw "We were not yet recovered from this frightful malady, when some neighbours came to tell the farmer with whom we lodged, that if he had Vendeans concealed with him, he ought to send them away without delay, to avoid the destruction of his house by a detachment of blues who were approaching. The farmer led us, in this extremity, to a barn open to every blast, and there laid us under the straw. We remained there all night. An excessive cold, joined to all that Hermenée had suffered at the passage of the Loire, completely threw back the eruption of the small-pox, and the next day this dear child expired on my bosom. I know not what would have become of me in this horrible situation without religion, which is all-sufficient and allsupporting. I saw this beloved child in heaven, and I only wept for myself. At length I found the means of having him buried in the church-yard of SaintHerbolon. This cruel event having led to the discovery that we were sheltered in this barn, we were obliged to leave it. A good man of the village, named Drouneau, came to take us away, and he conducted us (my daughter and myself) to the house of one of his relations at Hardouillière about half a league from Saint-Herbolon. We were yet covered with small-pox. I agreed to part from my faithful servant; but I had the consolation of thinking, that, being no longer with us, she had ceased to incur any individual danger. "The republicans having come from Nantes, to make a search about our new refuge, we were compelled without delay to leave the house; and we were placed in the hollow of a tree, about twelve feet high. We climbed to this hiding-place by means of a ladder, and we remained in it three days and three nights, having the small-pox: I had moreover a gathering in the knee and one in the leg. "The good peasant placed near us, in the hollow of the tree, a small pitcher of water and a morsel of bread. After the moment of joy which I derived from the possibility of saving my self with my child, even in the hollow of a tree, who can express all that I suffered in that sad situation? But it was an asylum, and in that terrible hour it was every thing. Never did any one with more satisfaction and pleasure take possession of a convenient and suitable apartment. But, afterwards what dark reflections came crowding upon my mind. At the end of an hour I found myself so fatigued, by the constrained attitude in which I was obliged to remain in this narrow prison, and which I could not change, that I thought it would be impossible for me to close my eyes. My daughter suffered less than myself, because I held her on my knees, and she could turn about, which she never did without rubbing my diseased knee in these moments she always gave me extreme pain; but I abstained from complaint. I spent, indeed, a horrible night, and my inqui etude, as well as my bodily sufferings, did not allow me a moment of repose. My daughter slept a little; but during her sleep she constantly groaned, and her wailings wrung my heart. When she awoke, it was to ask for drink. I was myself devoured by a burning thirst, which I dared not satisfy, in the fear of exhausting our little store of water. At length, at break of day, our charitable peasant came to bring us some brown bread and some apples. This visit alone was a consolation for me; it proved to me that we were not entirely abandoned, and that we had yet a support and a protector. I had no appetite, but I eagerly ate some of the apples, because they quenched my thirst a little; but I soon perceived that this bad nourishment aggravated my disease. My daughter experienced the same effect;our fever redoubled. In spite of the cold of the season we were both burning; we were not only without a physician, without any relief from skill, without servants, but without a bed, without a room, without having even the possibility of stretching ourselves; a prey to the sufferings of a dangerous malady, and exposed to the inclemency of the air; for if the weather had not been frosty, and it had become stormy, the rain and hail would have fallen in our tree. In this dreadful state it appeared impossible not to sink speedily under such a combination of evils. This idea caused in me the most extraordinary feeling that could ever distract the mind of a mother: I wished to survive my daughter, had it been only for an hour. I could not bear the thought of what would become of her-of what she would feel, when I should no long answer her, when she would no longer receive my caresses, when I should no longer support her in my arms, when she should see me motionless, lifeless, cold, insensible to her tears and her cries. These thoughts rent my soul; they would assuredly have cost me my life but for religion, which lifted me above myself. I prayed with confidence, fervour, and resignation; but after every prayer, poured out from the bottom of my heart, I felt myself strengthened and reanimated; my pulse beat with less violence; my fever lessened; my heavy eyes closed, and I sometimes slept two or three hours in succession, with the sweetest and calmest sleep; my daughter also recovered her strength, and I ceased to fear for her life. On the morning of the third day, they brought us some milk, which I saved for my child, and which did her great good. At length our place of refuge was discovered, or at least suspected. A peasant, passing in the dusk of the evening near our tree, heard me cough several times; he guessed that somebody was hidden in the tree. On his arrival in the village, he mentioned this circumstance. An old soldier of the army of M. de Bonchamps heard his account; he was living with his aged father. Having served in the army of the royalists, he often hid himself when the republicans passed through the village. Knowing I was a fugitive, he soon discovered the truth; but he abstained speaking of it to the other villagers. He pretended to retire to rest, but instead of lying down, he came immediately to the place where I was, of which he had informed himself. All at once, towards the end of the night, I heard myself called by my name; the unsuitable hour, and the rough voice of a man which I did not recognize, terrified me very much: I did not answer. The soldier was not discouraged; he pronounced his name, but that did not give me confidence, for I did not remember it. Neverthe less he persisted, adding, in a low voice, Trust yourself to a soldier of the army of Bonchamps. This name, so dear, produced upon me the effect which he expected. My tears flowed, whilst I thanked God for sending me a deliverer. He climbed to the top of the tree, assisted me to get up to him, and prevailed upon me to place myself upon his shoulders. Although the load was heavy, he descended with much dexterity and good fortune; but as he was reaching the ground, his foot slipped, and we all fell into the hedge. My fear for my child was extreme; but I was soon comforted, for this poor little girl, who suffered no injury from the fall, began to laugh at it. This laughter, so astonishing in our circum stances, this sound so strange to my ear, at once caused me surprise, joy, and the most tender emotion. The soldier conducted us to his father's house hard by. This good old man and his family received us with an affecting cordiality. They lighted a large fire, which produced such an effect opon me, that, having warmed myself for a moment, I fainted. These good people, in their terror, thought at first I was dead. My poor child uttered piercing cries. At length, by their kind attentions, I recovered my senses. They put me with my little girl to bed, and although we had only a bad mattress I found it delightful. The possi bility of stretching myself caused me the most agreeable sensation: I never passed a better night. Our sleep was long and peaceful, and the next morning we were really convalescent. But the terrifying news of the approach of the blues forced us, the following night, to hide ourselves with the soldier in a large stack of hay: I again slept very well, and only awoke in broad daylight, but with a violent head-ache. However, the soldier, who feared for himself as well as for us, told me that the direction which the blues had taken made it necessary for us to go to la Hardouillière. I consented; because I was certain to receive protection from the family of the peasant, who had provided me with food in my tree. We set off, under the guidance of the soldier, who told us to follow him at a distance, a precaution which he thought necessary for his own safety. I was, however, in want of his arm; for although the air had relieved my headache, I had such a weakness in my limbs that I could scarcely walk. But there is nothing that necessity will not render possible; and I performed this journey without accident, though slowly. The good people at la Hardouillière received me with the more joy, as they had been very uneasy on my account, not having found me in my tree." These deplorable distresses are finally consummated by a capture, thus simply but touchingly related: "I promised to return to the cottage in the evening; but I afterwards changed my design, and abandoned myself entirely to Providence. I wandered alone in the fields; I passed the night in a ditch; the voice of some republican troops who passed by awoke me. Although I was dressed as a peasant, and pretended to be an inhabitant of the country, they arrested me. The name I had assumed was immediately known to be false by the people who guided them. They however did not know my real name, and the description they had received of my features, being drawn out before I had the smallpox, could not betray me. This description was that of a young person very blooming and active, and I was now bent down and lame; my face was yet covered with the red spots of the small-pox; my features had become large, and I had the air of at least forty years of age. "My arrest did not very much affect me: I had dreaded to be murdered by the soldiers, in the tumult of a furious search. --- In a word, I was so broken down, so wretched, that a prison was in my eyes an asylum." She is condemned to death by the sanguinary Judges at Nantes, but, as we have anticipated, is saved by the honourable invention of some of the 5000 persons rescued from death by her dying husband. With this event a curious anecdote is connected. Her pardon not being forwarded to her, she was advised to send her child to the Tribunal for it,—and she says, "We tutored my daughter, who was rather afraid of the tribunal, tho' she did not well understand what it was; but she did not hesitate to take upon herself the message. I made her repeat a dozen times the phrase she was to use; she left me plunged in a vague but overwhelming anxiety. She arrived at the tribunal, where she entered with much gravity, and approaching the judges,she said aloud, and very distinctly, Citi zens, I come to beg the letters of pardon for mamma.' After these words the servant-girl mentioned my name. The judges thought my daughter very pretty, and one of them, speaking to her, said he knew that she charmed all the prisoners by her voice, and that he would give her the letters of pardon on condition that she should sing her prettiest song. My child had a wish to please her judges, and she thought that on this occasion the loudest strain would be the best, and that the assembly would be ravished by the fine song that she had so often heard enthusiastically repeated by sixty thousand voices, bursting forth on every side. She sung with all her strength the following chorus: 'Vive, vive le roi, A bas la republique.' "If she had been a few years older, led to the scaffold;-heroism would we should have been the next day both have irritated this sanguinary tribunal ignorance and ingenuousness disarmed it. They smiled ;-they made some education which the unhappy children particular reflections on the detestable of the fanatical royalists received, but they nevertheless granted the letters of pardon, which my little girl bore off in triumph." of justice and respect have been paid to Since the restoration, various tributes the memory of the heroic De Bonchamps. His estates have been restorhas been delivered (according to the ed to his family; his funeral oration custom of France) by the Viscount de Castelbajac; a street has been built, and his name given to it, at St.Florent, where he saved the lives of the prisoners; and a monument has been erected to him, with the sublime inscription the exclamation of the Vendeans on hearing his dying commands"Grace! Bonchamps l'ordonne." SONNET On the beautiful Statue of Master Lambton, as an Infant Jove, by Mr. Behnes, lately exhibited in the Royal Academy. Yes! such was Infant Jove-no trivial grace Sheds a soft lustre on that lofty brow; No dimpling ecstacy in that young face Blends with the tenderness of childhood's thought. VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. (Lit. Gaz.) DIARY OF A TOUR THROUGH SOUTHERN INDIA, EGYPT, AND PALESTINE. In the Years 1821-1822. FOR BY A FIELD OFFICER OF CAVALRY. NOR the serious, the moral, the religious, we hope it is not necessary for us to profess our respect. We trust it is, and felt to be, liberal enough to do justice to principle of every kind, and even to excuse conscientious error, honest prejudice, and unintentional mistake. Therefore that we do not captiously express our disapprobation of a volume in the style of this Diary will readily be acknowledged; and, on the contrary, that our censure is reluctant will be fully believed. We give the author credit for sincerity; but we really cannot reconcile our sense to the puritanical tone in which it has pleased him to write travels. It is out of place; and the familiar juxtaposition of prayers (making most free with the name of the Almighty and of the Saviour of the world with odd incidents and descriptions has as bad an effect as vicious and ill-meant profanity. Who can read as they ought when God's holy name is invoked, in a sentence which tells in one member that the author lay" on a bed of fleas" at Tabaria, and in the next that he" thanks his God" for approaching the term of his journey. This is more like a Field Preacher than a field officer; and is as revolting to genuine piety as to good taste. To sustain this opinion we will make a few extracts from the latter part of the volume, where the author is relating his sensations in Palestine. At Ramah the account of sacred things is made quite ludicrous: A CONVERTED JEW. "After a long privation of the blessings of real Christian communion and conversation, I have to thank my God for the valued privilege of meeting here a Christian friend, whose history and character demand a more than common interest. Born a Jew, and brought up in the religion of his fathers, it has pleased the Almighty to single him out as a monument of mercy from the thousands of his perishing nation. He has embraced from the heart the truths of Christianity, and is now a zealous Ambassador from Hea ven to beseech mankind that they would be reconciled to their offended God. His name is the Rev. Joseph Wolf. He is going to Jerusalem, and am coming from it: he arrived by sea, and I by land; and we have met together, without any previous concert or knowledge of each other, on the same day, in the same city, and at the house of Simon the Tanner! And how truly precious a day I have passed in his society! We remained together during the whole of it, and slept in the same room at night.-I found him a child in the world, but a giant in the cause of his God. He is going as a sheep among wolves ;" - So much would be enough for this (Joseph) Wolf; but what follows absolutely shocks us, tho' we do think it is not intended profanely : "There is something in his mere pronunciation of the name of his Saviour; something which bespeaks a mind more tenderly alive to the value of the sacrifice made for him; something which denotes a more peculiar personal appropriation of the Messiah to him as being a Jew, than ordinary Christians appear to feel. He never utters the name of Jesus without seeming to imply, in voice and manner, that his heart whispers at the same time, from its inmost core, 'Jesus is mine.'" The painful effect of such cant (for it is so when mixed up with ordinary concerns) may be farther felt in the two or three subjoined paragraphs taken almost at hazard : "I hope, if it please God, to set out myself to-morrow on my painful journey across the Great Desert of Egypt. I shall be entirely alone with the wild Arabs, except one Greek servant, on whose courage and prudence I do not place much reliance: but what can I fear, while safe under the shadow of the wings of the Most High! Signor Domiani, mine host, has undertaken to procure camels for me, as well as some other trifling necessaries which the journey requires ; and he has been all along attentive and civil. EGYPT AND PALESTINE. "From all I have seen of these countries, and from every observation I could make of the actual weakness of the Turkish character, I should be inclined to think, that if no European power intermeddled, ten thousand British troops would suffice to conquer Egypt; and four thousand more, with the indubitable assistance of the native inhabitants, would as easily take possession of all Syria, including Damascus and Aleppo By what possible right we should attempt such a conquest, is a question not to be so readily answered, however desirable to the people |