dwelling; my imagination, left to itself, would have placed there only a couch of leaves and a family of fauns and satyrs. The good woman, however, seemed perfectly satisfied with her habitation; the only thing of which she complained || was, that the rock intercepted the sun-shine from her door. "It comes no farther than here," said she with a sigh, advancing a few yards. I was informed by her neighbours that this woman was a widow, and very poor. "Good souls!" said one of her neighbours with the accent of the most sincere compassion; "she would not remain there, if she was able to procure a better lodging." || I wished to see the habitation of this honest neighbour; like the other, it had the rock for its roof; but this rock was white-washed; a front had been formed so as to give it externally the appearance of a house; in short, there was an infinite distance between this cave, for so these habitations are called, and those about it. This woman seemed such a happy and honest creature that I thought I could not confer on her a greater pleasure than by requesting her to carry a trifling donation to her unfortunate neighbour. "Good souls!" said she; "how delighted the poor woman will be?" I had not yet remarked the exclamation of good souls! which is too common in this country to have any meaning, but which, in the mouths of these simple Troglodytes, appeared to ine to have peculiar grace. I returned several times to hear their rustic language, I gained their good will; and while I am satisfied to be forgotten elsewhere, I flatter myself that I have left behind me some impression on the hearts of those honest creatures. Man was not the only object that allured me to those rustic retreats. Nature has been pleased to plant at the foot of these simple dwellings aromatic herbs which fill the air with grateful perfumes, and which people come from distant parts to gather for the purpose of healing wounds. In the upper part of the rock, out of which these excavations are scooped, the Almighty hand has traced hieroglyphics more curious then those which cover the monuments of Egypt. Two veins of flint traverse the calcareous rock and form a kind of frieze over the doors of some of the grottoes. The vitreous substance, and the organoidal forms of this stone, which is most commonly intermingled with rocks of recent formation, and wrecks of the sea, always appeared extremely remarkable to me, and I have been since informed, that its origin is an enigma which the sagrity of geol gists has in vain attempted to explain. Thick strata of shells, partly broken by the waves, and mixed with pieces of petrified wood, which seem to have been carried along previous to their petrifaction amid these marine relics, by the currents of the ocean, are observ able at no great distance, and lead the imagination to place the time when these regions had newly risen from the waves, beside the present moment. The Troglodyte habitations then appear in their proper place; but you turn your head and behold the turrets of a feudal castle, its pavilions half-burned in the wars of religion. What a long series of human events this single view compresses into a space so small for nature! At a little distance, on the other side of the Brignon and the Creu e, the aspect of the country tends to confirm the illusion of the traveller, who imagines himself transported into a new land. In the midst of a vast extent of heaths and forests, you come all at once to cultivated lands, regularly laid out, intersected by roads several leagues in length, and as straight as a line, on both sides of which you come, at intervals, to houses of a particular construction, but all exactly resembling each other. You arrive at a small village equally regular, in the midst of which a bason of water, surrounded with trees, proves that the proprietors of this establishment knew how to combine the useful and the agree able. It is the residence of a colony of NovaScotians, who, at the peace of 1763, chose rather to quit their distant habitations and to seek a refuge in their native land, than to become English subjects. The government allotted them this situation, built houses for them, and provided them with the necessary implements and advances of money, for introducing here a more improved system of agriculture than that of the adjacent districts. It is said that M. de Perusse, a wealthy proprietor of this part of Poitou, first conceived the idea of this colony. He had before invited peasants from Liege to settle on his domains, to improve their cultivation. It is certain that he took the most active and generous interest in the success of this establishment.— This colony is under the administration of a syndic chosen by the colonists, which has the direction of all their concerns. Only a few of the wives of the primitive colonists are still living; but, a few years since, an old man who had survived all his companions, related to their children the persecutions endured by their fathers previous to their return to France, and exhorted them to bless with him the benevolent exertions of those who had procured them such an asylum. Shall I give you a description of some other remarkable objects which this country contains? of the monuments left there by Agnes Sorel; of her tomb at Soches; of the steep bank of the Creuse which is to this day called the Queen's Quay, because the carriage of that mistress, so strongly attached to the glory of her king and of her country, was there overturned; of the church of St. Catherine de Fierbois, whence Joan of leges that were granted to it. All the concep Arc took the sword with three fleurs de lys with which she rescued her country; of La Haye,tions of this too famous minister seemed to have the native place of Descartes; of the field of battle between Charles Martel and Abderrahman; of the Roman amphitheatre of Poitiers, and of the Celtic tombs, covered with conical hillocks thirty or forty feet high, which are frequently seen on the banks of the Vienne and in the adjacent districts? I am apprehensive that I should fatigue you too much by describing things which have been a thousand times described already, and much better than I can do. I shall, therefore, only subjoin a few words concerning the town and palace of Richelieu. That magnificent structure, in which every species of luxury, antique statues, gold and silver,|| were lavished at the expence of France, has just || been sold for the purpose of being pulled down. Before the Revolution, the repairs which were thought necessary, were estimated at seven hundred thousand francs (nearly £. 30,000 ster ling). Since that time it has been stripped of its furniture and of its most valuable ornaments, which have been removed to the museums of Paris and of the Thuilleries. The town of Richelieu, likewise built by the Cardinal, is perfectly regular, but not elegant; it stands in an unhealthy situation, without the convenience of a navigable river; it never was populous, and was supported only by the privi been dictated by a determination not to accommodate himself to circumstances, but to make them subservient to him. It is very remarkable that he never once visited or saw the town and palace which he had erected at such a vast expence. I had formerly a strong desire to ramble over. the world, to visit nations at every degree of civilization; I wished for an opportunity of comparing myself the civilization of those whose fathers lived upon acorns, with the simple and unvarying manners of the nations that feed on oats, and the more savage habits of such as drink train-oil. I am now sensible that in traversing, with an attentive eye, a very limited extent of country, we may meet with man and the earth at every progressive degree of age, and that in the most civilized country ruins exist beside cultivated tracts. You have disgusted me with forests of cocoa-trees, by telling me that those celebrated trees do not even afford shade; and as to the train-oil, I renounce that of my own accord. Let us henceforward travel only to as short a distance from home as possible; let us observe, let us laugh, sometimes weep, and above all, let us always love with ardor. Yours, &c. Ormes, Department of Vienne, Νου. 1, 1805. J. J. S. GENIUS AND TALENT. IN a part of the world which is very little overrun with weeds, which the richness of the known to the generality of map-makers, mathe- soil very quickly matured, and in other quarters maticians, or travel-writers, and of which the commanding prospects the most magnificent and latitude has been disputed for a succession of extensive. Criticism was a precise old fellow, ages by philosophers of almost every denomina-full of rules and wise laws, near sighted, used tion, resided two noblemen of large estates, the || spectacles, and had no less a turn for modern one called Genius, and the other Talent. They lived upon a friendly fooring, so that as both were fond of sporting, and never happier than when they could start some fresh game, they considered the contiguity of their estates as an important advantage; and each had from his earliest youth possessed the liberty of hunting on the premises of his neighbour. This privilege was long exercised by them without interruption, till a litigious attorney, of the name of Criticism, came to settle in a valley which opened a partial view of both the estates. The domains of Talent were laid out in a neat and handsome style, and the nicest care was constantly bestowed on their cultivation; but the territories of Genius were more wild and diversified, in many places much gardening than for musty law. He was always taking walks round the two estates, and with an impertinent curiosity endeavouring to acquaint himself with their boundaries; but as they were spread over a very large tract, he could not manage to include them in any one of his airings. In course of time, by now and then meeting our noblemen in these rambles, he contrived to introduce himself to them, and received obliging invitations from both. But he soon disgusted Genius, by the petty alterations that he was always suggesting in some part of the grounds, and by the frequent panegyrics that he bestowed on the superior correctness with which Talent had disposed his parterres. While, on the other hand, he offended Talent, by an officious proposal Collected from his Works and from his Life, by James Boswell. LONDON comprehends the whole of human | where else. You cannot play tricks with your life in all its variety, the contemplation of which is inexhaustible. There is more learning and science within the circumference of ten miles from where we now sit (Temple-bar) than in all the rest of the kingdom. The only disadvantage is the great dis'tance people live from one another, but that is occasioned by the la geness of it, which is the cause of all the other advantages. The influence of London is now extended every where, and from all manner of communication being opened, there shortly will be no remains of the ancient simplicity, or places of cheap retreat to be found. fortune in a small place; you must make an uniform appearance. Here a lady may have well furnished apartments, and elegant dress, without any meat in her kitchen. By those, who from sagacity, attention, and experience, have learnt the full advantage of London, its pre-eminence over every other place, not only for variety of enjoyment but for comfort, will be felt with a philosophical exultation. The freedom from remark and petty censure, with which life may be passed there, is a circumstance which a man who knows the teasing restraint of a narrow circle must relish highly. In London (Mr. Burke said) a man may live in splendid society at one time, and in frugal retirement another, without animadversion. There, and there alone, a man's house is his castle, in which he can be in perfect safety from A man stores his mind better in London than any where else; in remote, obscure, uniform and insipid situations, a man's body may be feasted, but his mind is starved, and his faculties are apt to degenerate from want of exercise and compe-intrusion whenever he pleases. In the country tition. No place cures a man's vanity or arrogance so well as London; for as no man is either good or great per se, but as compared with others not so good or great, he is sure to find there many his equals, and some his superiors. A man is less in danger of falling indiscreetly in love in London than any where else, for there the difficulty of deciding between the conflicting pretensions of a vast variety of objects, keeps him safe. There is no place where economy can be so well practised as in London. More can be had there for the money, even by ladies, than any a man may starve his understanding for want of conversation, and perish in a state of mental inferiority. A man used to London, when he retires to country friendships, and rural sports, must either be contented to turn baby again and play with the rattle, or he will pine away like a great fish in a little pond, and die for want of his usual food. In London, if there is not much happiness, there is at least such a diversity of good and evil, that slight vexations do not fix upon the heart, and relief is afforded to the melancholy mind. If you wish to have a just notion of the mag nitude of this city, you must not be satisfied with seeing its great streets and squares, but must survey the innumerable little lanes and courts. It is not in the shewy evolutions of buildings, but in the multiplicity of human habitations which are crouded together, that the wonderful immensity of London consists. The chief advantage of London is, that a man is (as Mr Meynell well expressed it) always so near his burrow. If a man walks out in the country, there is nobody to keep him from walking in again. to be found out of a capital, where one's whole life may be passed in obscurity. The translation of this letter is in "Seward's Anecdotes." A French philosopher (Mercier) writes as follows on Paris: The man of letters seeks the charms of the capital; that is the real, great, and constant advantage to which he incessantly tends; he there is in the proper element of thinking. He is only at his ease in that philosophical atmosphere, where all his ideas, whether grave, pleasant, or majestic, mix without clashing; he, as it were, renovates his soul among the variety he there meets with; elsewhere the tone, the simplicity, and the fertility of manners are not similar: the man of letters, in remote country situations, neither understands nor is understood; he is reduced to listen without being able to compre If I was a lover of solitude (Mr. Henry Broke said), if I wished to be the most recluse of all Anchorites who bid adieu to the commerce of mankind, I would chuse London for my cell. It is in such a city alone that a man may keep wholly unknown and unnoticed. He is there as a hail-stone amidst a great shower, he jumps | hend. and bustles about a while, then lies snug among his fellows, without being any more observed than if he were not upon earth, till he melts away and vanishes with the rest of his fraternity. There is a long letter extant, dated Sept. 30, 1638, from Descartes, who had retired to Amsterdam, to Balzac, in which he invites him to come and reside there, as no perfect solitude is But the inappreti ble advantage of Paris is, that there a'l the petty tyrannies of the country are lost and annihilated. Only in that capital one may be poor without being despised. The public gaiety diverts the melancholy man, and the feeble finds himself fortified by the strength of the multitude. PUBLIC RECREATIONS OF ST. PETERSBURGH. MR. EDITOR, By the constant intercourse that subsists in modern times among the nations of Europe, it is naturally to be expected, that the pastimes and entertainments, especially of the upper ranks in society, should be in many respects so much alike, that the description of them in any one great city might serve to give a tolerable idea of them in almost all the rest. There are still, however, certain popular diversions in every one of them in some sort peculiar to itself, and which, bearing evident marks of originality, may not unfrequently be made subservient to the moral History of our species. Particularly if it be true, that the most delicate strøkes and peculiarities of the national character are principally seen in its modes of merriment. Perceiving that in your former Numbers you have given some accounts relative to this object, I thought it might not be unacceptable if I sent you a few observations made in a tour to Petersburgh. The Russians, in general, are a remarkably cheerful people; it is scarcely possible to pass through the streets any part of the day without being witness to various instances of jocularity and wanton humour. Singing, however, may No. IV. Vol, Is || be pronounced the principal method in which their gaiety is shewn; every labou?, how toilsome soever, the Russian sweetens by warbling his native woodnotes, whether he plies the axe, the hammer, the spade, or the oar; and every satisfaction, every condition of life, is heightened and embellished by the charms of song. Unquestionably there is no nation in Europe where the propensity to this amusement is so predominant as here. In France the people are always singing, but it is only opera airs and vaudevilles, that are approved by the fashionable part of the public: whereas in Russia it is the true native ballad, composed and set to music by the inferior classes, which are sung in the same manner from Petersburgh to Irkutsk, which places lie six or seven thousand miles asunder. The hearty national interest taken by the common people of all descriptions in these ballads, their extremely simple but melodious style, the musical disposition, and the generally well constituted organs of utterance among the Russians produce a very agreeable and surprising effect on the unmusical ears of strangers and foreigners. It is, therefore, a very common species of amusement with the gentry of St. Petersburgh, on the fine summer days, and espe EE cially in the evening, to hire a boat, or twelve- || country be seen; and it is danced with elegance not only in the polished circles, and by persons of high breeding, but even among the lowest ranks of society. Like the minuet, it is commonly danced by two persons, one of each sex, who place themselves facing one another at some distance. It represents a declaration of love, which in very expressive pantomimic gestures is oared barge, and as they glide upon the placid surface of the Neva, to be regaled with the songs of the boatmen, who, favoured by the gentle current of that beautiful river, have no need to make a stroke with their oars above once in five minutes. As the sun, in the height of summer, does not set till about eleven, the stream is sometimes in a manner covered with shallops, con-made, rejected, solicited, and approved, and taining parties of this nature, and the dulcet notes proceeding from them, in the stillness of the evening or rather midnight, by their soft and plaintive tones, pervade with delightful emotions those who are walking for their amusement after supper on that proud quay of granite, the like of which for grandeur, durability, or convenience, no city in the world has to shew. Sometimes the vassals attend in the hall, singing for the entertainment of the lord and his guests while at dinner. A practice not, perhaps, unlike to the custom that prevailed in this country during the feudal times, when the minstrels formed a part of the seignorial retinue. Whenever the populace meet together for merry-making, the dance is never omitted; without that and singing, there is no jollity for the vulgar. More expressive and elegant than the national dance which bears the name of Golubetz, no popular dance can certainly in any wherein the different talents of the dancers are displayed in various degrees of light and shade that are exhibited in the modest importunity of the lover, and the struggies between bashfulness, timidity, and secret wishes in the coy fair one. The dancers approach and retreat in certain measured steps, which, however, are not always in perfect accordance with the music. This dance being throughout a naturally speaking pantomime, it is in the power of art to do little or nothing to its refinement; it is more frequently danced well by the common people, than in fashionable circles, and it is rarely seen to perfection even among experienced persons of the ordinary class. The music by which it is accompanied is extremely plain and simple; frequently it requires no instrument at all, but the spectators join their voices together in sume ballad to it. I am, Sir, &c. L. R. FAMILIAR LECTURES ON USEFUL SCIENCES. LETTERS ON BOTANY, FROM A YOUNG LADY TO HER FRIEND. LETTER VI. You assure me, my dear Eugenia, that your progress keeps pace with my instructions, but let me recommend again to you the perusal of the "Studies of Nature," by S. Pierre. It is from that work that I have derived the greatest part of my knowledge, and it will teach you how to make observations. I perceive a plant of a deep green, whose leaves are broad at their base, and terminate in a point, placed opposite each other on long peduncles, and at some distance. At every swelling occasioned on the stem by the union of the peduncles of two leaves, ten or twelve white flowers are ranged in a circle. The next leaves form a snowy ring of a similar nature, and the same is seen to the very top of the plant. according to our method. It is the lamium alLet us study this handsome flower, and class it bum, or white dead nettle; what first strikes my eyes is, that the superior lip is supported by four of those filaments are short, and two long, and all elastic filaments, which are the stamina. Two surmounted with black anthers of an oblong shape. If you open the corol carefully you will find a long pistil, red, and so thin that it is almost lost amidst the filaments of the stamina, but which can be taken away by itself. The order of this class, which we have found to be the fourteenth, or didynamia, is the gymnospermia, which must show us four naked seeds at the bot toin of every calyx. |