of recollection, in the early part of her illness, she confided what we have here related to her father; but conscientiously kept from his knowledge what she was bound by her oath to conceal. The very remembrance of what she had witnessed, on that fatal night, hurried her into delirium, and she fell a victim to the force of recollec tion.

Madame de Nunez did not long survive her; but expired under circumstances of unexampled horror.

THE LOVERS OF LYONS.

Their tomb was simple, and without a bust,

And held within their urn, one mind, one heart, one dust.

Byron.

TRACING the course of the Saone, to some distance above Lyons, its banks become most enchantingly romantic: secluded vallies open at intervals on the view, and leave the spectator to penetrate their recesses. These, within themselves, frequently disclose a little world of beauty, where rocks, waterfalls, woods, and streams, are intermingled with scenes of a gentler cast; where the grape blushes, the grain waves, and the cottage rears its peaceful aspect, with white walls, and flattened roof, half hid by the embowering foliage.

The most distant of these vallies, to which my little excursion extended, surpassed all others in magnificence and loveliness. The uplands, where too steep for culture, were crowned with fine trees; here thin and scattered, shewing between their tall grey stems the most luxuriant

herbage, on which sheep were browsing; there, closely planted and umbrageous, they shed a delicious coolness. Along the bottom, and irregularly indenting the acclivi ties, were stretched out, in every variety of shape, patches of the richest cultivation; while a stream of considerable magnitude, pursuing its devious course through these scenes of beauty, by its sound and motion, diffused over the whole an ever-varying charm. Far up the vale, on the summit of a rocky promontory, round whose base swept the stream, in dark eddies, stood the ruins of what had once been a feudal mansion. Though of no great extent, and, as usual, very irregular in its plan, yet the high and pointed gables and turreted embattlements, the massive walls and corner towers, aided by the commanding situation, gave an air of lofty grandeur to the pile. Behind the castle, extending backwards from the stream, was a level tract of considerable extent, gradually subsiding from the slope of the valley. On the nearer portion of this little plain, might still be traced the remains of a garden, its long stone terraces and flights of steps being partly removed, and partly visible among the long withered grass, while all around

Was clothed in living emerald.

In nearly an opposite direction flowed the stream, with the violence of a torrent, being confined in a narrow channel, by lofty and precipitous banks. Across this gulf, considerably above the castle, there appeared

to have been a bridge, of which a rude pillar still remained on a mass of rock, rising to some height from the middle of the current. By this means the opposite sides were united, as will appear in the sequel, by a wooden platform.

I had lingered long amid these scenes, and the shades of evening were approaching, before an opportunity occurred of making any inquiry respecting their former history. Meeting at length with one whose appearance bespoke the easy circumstances of the small proprietaire, I began to question him on this subject. His information, however, extended no farther, than that the castle and its domains had originally belonged to the family De Monthillier, but were now the property of a nobleman who resided in a distant part of the country. To this account a request was added, couched in the politest terms, such as in France frequently surprises the traveller as above the rank of the speaker, "that Monsieur would honour his humble cottage and plain supper, in which case his niece, Augustine, a very good girl, et qui avoit du sentiment, would doubtless have much pleasure in relating to Monsieur the history of the last baron." The invitation was too agreeable, and too kindly offered, to be refused. On arriving at a large and substantial cottage, the old man led the way into a very neat apartment the floor of shining tiles, scrupulously clean--the walls coarsely but not inelegantly painted in arabesques, to imitate paper-hangings-the bed, the prin

cipal ornament, white as snow, and the pillows edged with lace. Augustine soon made her appearance, with a supper of bread, milk, and grapes, and was in truth deserving of the 'praises bestowed by her uncle. She was very pretty; and with that frank and lively naiveté of manner which so peculiarly distinguishes her countrywomen, was united an expression of intelligence and feeling highly interesting. Our rural repast being soon finished, she gave, with much propriety, a recital which furnished the subject of the following narrative:

The Baron de Monthillier, the last remaining representative of an ancient and illustrious house, after serving with honour in the armies of his sovereign, had retired to spend, on his paternal domains, the evening of his days, and to superintend the education of his only daughter, the lovely Adelaide. She had been deprived, while yet an infant, of that greatest of all blessings to a youthful female-the care of a tender and accomplished mother. This circumstance had thrown a shade of melancholy over the character and pursuits of the baron, and only in his daughter did he seem to acknowledge the tie which bound him to life. In her he beheld the only solace of his grief, and in watching her improvement he found the most pleasing occupation. Nor was she unworthy of his care. Talents, such as fall to the lot of a few, a disposition the most engaging, and a form the most lovely, marked the rising years of Adelaide.