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rounding objects. This exhibition is not yet completed, but, in its present condition, is very interesting. Some hints not altogether useless, may be collected from it. In England our churches are charnel houses. The pews of the congregation are raised upon soundations of putrefaction. For six days and nights the temple of devotion is silled with thepestilent vapors of the dead, and on the seventh they are absorbed by the living. Surely it is high time to subdue prejudices, which endanger health without promoting piety The Scotch never bury in their churches, and'their burial places are upon the consines of their towns. The eye of adoration is silled with a pensive pleasure, in observing itself surrounded with the endeavors of taste and ingenuity, to lift the remembrance cf the great and good beyond the grave, in that very spot where the frailty of our nature is so often inculcated.
Such a display, in such a place, is rational, suitable and admonitory. The silent tomb becomes auxiliary to the eloquence of the pulpit. But the custom which converts the place of worstip into a catacomb, can afford but a mistaken cc?nsoJation to posthumous pride, and must, in some degree, contaminate the atmoiphere which is contained within its walls. One evening as I was pasting through the Boulevard Italien, in company with a gentleman from Toulon, we met a tall, dark, hollow eyed, ferocious looking man, of whom he related the following story. • Immediately after the evacuation of Toulon by the
.• ; • . . -,y- - .,,s .--rfi mo;??, a >'; English, all the principal Toulonese citizens were ordered to repair to the market place ; where they were surrounded by a great military force.
This man who, for his offences, had been committed to prison, was liberated by the French agents, in; consequence os his undertaking to select those of the inhabitants who had in any manner savored the capitulation of the town, or who had shown any hospitality to the English, whilst they were in posseffion of it. The miscreant passed before the citizens, who were drawn out in lines, amounting to near three thousand. Amongst whom he pointed out about one . thousand four hundred persons to the fury of the government ; without any other evidence, or further examination, they were all immediately adjudged to be shot. For this purpose a suitable number of soldiers were drawn out. The unhappy victims were marched up to their destruction, upon the quay, in sets of three hundred, and butchered!!! . ^
The carnage was dreadful. In the last of these unfortunate groups, were two gentlemen of great respectability, who received no wound from the sire, but, to preserve themselves, dropped with the rest, and exhibited all the appearances of having participated ki the general fate.
This execution took place in the evening : immediately after its close, the soldiers, fatigued, and lick with cold-blooded slaughter, marched back to their . quarters, without examining whether every person
upon whom they had sired, had fallen a victim to the murderous bullet. Soon after the soldiers had retired, the women of Toulon, allured by plunder, proceeded to the fatal spot. Mounted upon the bodies of the fallen, they stripped the dead, and dying. The night was stormy, The moon, emerging from dark clouds, occasionally, Ihed its pale lustre upon this horrible scene. When the plunderers had abandoned their prey, during an interval of deep darkness, in the dead of the night, when all was silent, unconscious of each other's intentions, the two citizens who had escaped the general carnage, disencumbered themselves from the dead, under whom they were buried ; chilled and naked, in an agony of mind not to be described, they at the same moment, attempted to escape. In their agitation, they rushed against each other. Expressions of terror and surprise, dropped from each of them. "Oh! God! it is my father !" said one, '"my son, my son, my son," exclaimed the other, clasping him in his arms. They were father and son, who had thus miraculously escaped, and met in this extraordinary manner.
The person from whom I received this account, informed me, that he knew these gentlemen very well, and that- they had been resettled in Toulon about two years. a .
The wretch who had thus directed the ruthless vengeance of a revolutionary. banditti, against the breasts of his fellow citizens, was, at this time, in Paris, soliciting, srom the present government, from a total misconception of its nature, those remunerations which had been promised, but never realized his barbarous employers. . , . • »,;
I need scarcely add, that although he had been in the capital several months, he had not been able to gain access to the minister's secretary. • • • >•,', t& •. The time of terror was over—r-the murderer's occupation was gone—the guillotine, with unsatiated hunger, after having gorged the food which was thrown to it, had devoured its feeder. \ . . - .•.v...
I must leave it to the ingenuity of my reader, to connect the observation with which I shall close this; chapter, with the preceding story, for I am only enabled to do, hy observing, that an impreffive instance of the subject of. it, occurred immediately after my mind had been harrowed up, by the narrative which I have just related. ". •
The married women of France feel no compunctions visitings of conscience, in cherishing about them a circle of lovers, amongst whom their husbands are merely more favored than the rest. I hope I shall not be considered as an apologist, for an indulgence which, in France, excites no jealousy in one, and no surprise amongst the many, when I declare, that I considently believe, in most instances, it commences, andguiltlessly terminates in the love of admiration. I know, and visited in Paris, a most lovely and accom* pli/hed young woman, who- bad been married,about
two years. She admitted the" visits of men, whom &e knew were paffionately fond of her. Sometimes she received them in the presence, and sometimes in the absence of her husband, as accident, not arrange-' ment, directed. They approached her with all the agitation and tenderness of the most ardent lovers. Amongst the number, was a certain celebrated orator. This man was her abject flave. A glance from her expreffive eye raised him to the summit of bliss, or rendered his nights fleepiest. The complacent husband of Madame G—regarded these men as his nsost beloved friends, because they enlarged the happiness of his wife ;and strange as it may appear, I believe that he had as little cause to complain as Othello, and therefore never permitted his repose to be disturbed hy those suspicions which preyed upon the vitals of the hapless Moor. The French Benedict might truly exclaim, \
"i . u. 'Tisnot to make me jealous,
"To (ay my wise is seir, seeds well, laves company, "Is fres of speech, singly play, and dances well; 'Whete virtue is, these are more virtuous 5
"Nor srom my own weak. merits will I draw . -M-Tie upalifil for, or doubt of her revolt." . . ':„:.u i,:h ." '; «: ;.' \ . - • - ;' .