a cancer of considerable magnitude had formed itself. In the last stages of his illness Buonaparte must, it is represented, have suffered excruciating pain. It was remarked before his death, that for more than nine days he had refused all nourishment, which was supposed to have proceeded from resignation or obstinacy; but the diseased state of his stomach fully accounted for it.

The body was laid out on a bed, in a room of middling size, hung with black, and well lighted up. He was dressed in full field-marshal's uniform; that said to have been worn by him at the battle of Marengo. His person seemed small, and rather diminutive (exact height five feet seven inches); but the fineness of the countenance much exceeded expectation. The face appeared to be large, compared with the body; the features pleasing, and extremely regular, still retaining a halfformed smile; and must have been truly imposing, when enlivened by a penetrating pair of eyes. His skin was perfectly sallow, which seemed to be its natural colour.

The garden was laid out in the most fanciful manner; an astonishing variety being contained in a very small space.

Buonaparte died on Saturday, and the funeral took place the following Wednesday, at 12 o'clock. A grand procession was formed of the officers, soldiers, and marines; which, altogether, made a very striking exhibition. The troops were drawn up two men deep on the road side, out of Longwood gates; each man resting the point of his musket on his foot, with the left hand on its butt; and the left cheek leaning on his hand in a mournful position; the band stationed at the head of each corps playing a dead march.

He was buried at the head of Rupert's Valley, about half way between James' Town and Longwood, under the shade of a large willow tree, near a small spring well, the water in which is both good and pleasant. For some years past he had water carried to him daily from this well, in two silver tankards which he brought from Moscow. Some years since, when visiting this well, in company with Madame Bertrand, he said, if the British Government buried him on St. Helena, he

wished this to be the spot. It is certainly a very retired, pretty situation, surrounded by high hills in the form of an amphitheatre, the public road to Longwood leading along the top of the ridge.

After letting the coffin into the grave, three vollies from 11 field pieces were fired, and the flag-ship also fired 25 minute guns. The Catholic priest performed the ceremony after the rites of the Romish Church.

The grave was 10 feet long, 10 deep, and five wide: the bottom happened to be solid rock, in which a space was cut to receive the coffin; the sides and ends of the grave were each walled in with one large Portland flag, and three large flags were put immediately over the coffin, and fastened down with iron bars and lead, beside Roman cement. The top of the grave is elevated about eight inches above the surface of the ground, and covered over with three rough slates.

The number and importance of the historical facts which we have necessarily had occasion to detail in this memoir, have entirely precluded the possibility of introducing personal anec, dotes of Napoleon. The following account of his last moments is derived from a work recently published at Paris, entitled, "Captivity of Buonaparte at St. Helena."

"Buonaparte for some time considered himself attacked by an internal disease which would speedily prove fatal to him. He often mentioned it, accompanied with sombrous presentiments; but it was supposed to be nothing more than the wanderings of an active imagination left unemployed. Some weeks before his death, he laboured with a spade in his garden so long and so severely as almost to faint from fatigue, Somebody suggested to him the probable injury to his health:

No,' said he, it cannot hurt my health - that is lost beyond all hope. It will but shorten my days.' I suspect he gave but little time to the composition of memoirs of his life. Bertrand one day urged him to labour with more assiduity, It is beneath me,' said he, to be the historian of my own life. Alexander had his Quintus Curtius, and I shall have mine. At all events, my life is recorded in achievements.'

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A short time before his malady became serious, he abandoned his reserve, and became familiar with every body. He set a high value upon Bertrand, but did not like him. He said to him one day at table, Bertrand, it was not your attachment to me, but your love of glory that brought you to St. Helena: you would immortalize your name as my fidus Achates,' (the faithful companion of the hero of Ænead.) A little girl, only nine years old, the daughter of a serjeant of the garrison, often kept him company. He took great pleasure in speaking to her, and, on her coming, always kissed her on the cheek. He constantly provided himself with fruits or sweatments for her, and shortly before his death, hung round her neck a small gold watch by a gold chain. Julie,' said he, wear this for my sake.' With a penknife he graved on the cover, clumsily enough it is true, these words, The Emperor to his little friend Julie.' He sometimes amused himself in giving this child a lesson in drawing from the surrounding mountain scenery, with the most laughably whimsical figures and objects interspersed. His predilection for this child was extraordinary; she had nothing interesting in her person, and was in capacity rather below the average of little girls of her age. The 2d of April was the day on which he was observed to be seriously indisposed. He rose early and walked in the garden. He, after a few minutes, sat upon a bank, apparently faint. Montholon went up to him, and asked him if he was taken ill. Yes,' said he, I feel nausea and sick stomach,the avant couriers of death.' Count Montholon smiled. Buonaparte took his arm, and said, My friend, we must not laugh at death when he is so near us.' The little Julie soon appeared with a basket, and caught his attention. He brought her into the saloon, where breakfast was prepared, and filled her basket with different sweet things, adding a bottle of liqueur, with these words, This is for your father to drink my health.' One day he sent for a jeweller to alter or repair some trinkets, and asked him if he could make a silver coffin. The jeweller tried to shift the question. Buonaparte repeated it. I shall die,' said he, in a few weeks.' 'God forbid

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that we should lose your Highness,' said the other. God grant that I may die soon-very soon,' returned Buonaparte; "I am well convinced that life is not a blessing, but a curse.' He then approached a piano, touched the keys for a few moments, producing some vague, but not inharmonious movement, and ended with playing his favourite air

O Richard! O mon Roi!

L'univers t'abandonne.

He often stretched himself on a sofa, opposite the garden window, and read with a loud voice from Telemachus, or the Henriade. He inquired one day, with great eagerness, whether an English journal could be procured him. With some difficulty a newspaper was provided. He took it, and glanced over it hastily, and suddenly exclaimed, Ah! Naples ! Naples ! poor devils! Murat was the bravest king they ever had; — but he did not know his subjects. They are all lazzaroni from the duke ofThe morning of the day on has nothing to affright me. the companion of my pillow. and bear me away for ever.'

down to the lowest beggar!' which he died, he said, 'Death For three weeks death has been Now he is about to embrace me

"The vicissitudes of his destiny, and his death on a distant rock, are fearful lessons to the possessors of human power, and the wearers of crowns. He who governed empires died a captive under the dominion of strangers. He who had the monarchy of Europe at his feet, had his requiem chanted only by the genius of the ocean-storm, and the cannon sounded his funeral knell !"

The character of Napoleon Buonaparte resembles, as a finished portrait, nothing in ancient or modern history: scattered traits of resemblance may indeed be found, but as a whole, it is unique. His genius was of the highest order. Formed to command, his individual pre-eminence raised him above the splendor of a throne. Great as a general, the quickness of his perception, the energy of his decision, and the general accuracy of his conclusions, could only be matched by

the exquisite judgment of the Duke of Wellington. The conception of the boldest and most astonishing military enterprises, was in him united with inexhaustible resources for executing them; excepting only in his expedition to Russia, when his higher qualities were obscured by the intoxication of prosperity. In this view of the subject, however, his memory will be always indelibly stained by his habitual prodigality of blood. The Duke of Wellington, on the contrary, was always sparing of his troops. Yet Napoleon was adored by his soldiers; to them, at least, he was generally a munificent patron, an indulgent master, and a gracious monarch. As a statesman, he was more distinguished for his adroitness and cunning, and for his dexterity in devising temporary expedients, than for enlarged and comprehensive views. Accustomed to regard his fellow-creatures with contempt, as beings inferior to himself, and swayed only by base and sordid motives, he addressed himself chiefly to their vices. Hence, the general spirit of his negociations was hollow and insincere : hence the flagrant atrocity of his enterprise against Spain: hence, that universal distrust which armed against him, not only sovereigns, but the whole population of Europe. In his capacity as Emperor, the ruling principle of his government was the concentra tion of every species of power in his own person. The system of administration which he framed, was so artfully constructed, that from the first minister of state to the humblest functionary of a parish, ecclesiastical or civil, all depended entirely and absolutely upon him. Although this system was well contrived for his own personal security, it involved and perplexed him in an useless variety of details. The gratification of his own boundless ambition in the attainment of universal sway, unrestrained by any scruples of conscience, was the chief object of his desires: but he had also another, and a nobler ambition, that of being distinguished in after ages as the author of useful institutions, and magnificent public works, France and Italy will long regard this branch of his domestic policy with reverence and gratitude.

The circumstances of his situation, raised first to the magis