Feldborg would have called, "the wretched state of the world at that juncture." The reduced state of the finances, the depreciation of the funds, the cessation of foreign commerce, and the employment of every species of revenue and industry for the prosecution of the war, "bella horrida bella," were serious hindrances to the project of improvement. Painful contrasts were visible in all directions. Houses and lands of great value were annexed to the Garden, and magnificent collections were acquired; yet funds were wanting to pay the workmen, and your common potato was cultivated in beds destined for the rarest and most beautiful of exotic flowers. Ere long, however, some of the official administrators of the Museum were called to situations in the government of the nation, and used their influence in favour of their favourite haunts-" lo

ving the spot which once they gloried

in.

At the end of the year 1794, the Amphitheatre of the Garden was finished in its present state, and in it was opened, on the 25th of January, 1795, the Normal School; an extraordinary institution, but founded on an unfeasible and visionary plan. It was fancied that men already ripe in years, by a few lectures from eminent masters, might be rendered capable of extending instruction, and diffusing through the provinces the elements of science, which very few of themselves had been prepared by previous education to understand. Every reasonable man felt the impossibility of realizing such a scheme, and the institution fell of itself soon after. It had the good effect, however, of exciting the public attention and fixing it upon an establishment, become, as it were, the type of all institutions that might be formed for the study of nature.

The most important event connected with the history of the Garden which occurred about this period, was the voyage of Captain Baudin. In 1796, this gentleman informed the officers of the Museum, that, during a long residence in Trinidad, he had formed a rich collection of natural history, which he was unable to bring away, but which he would return in quest of if they would procure him a vessel. The proposition was acceded to by the government, with the injunction that Captain Baudin should take with him

four naturalists. The persons appointed to accompany him were Maugé and Levillain, for zoology; Ledru, for botany; and Reidley, gardener of the Museum, a man of active and indefatigable zeal.

Captain Baudin weighed anchor from Havre on the 30th September, 1796. He was wrecked off the Canary Isles, but was furnished with another vessel by the Spanish government, and shaped his course towards Trinidad. That island, however, had in the meantime fallen into our hands. The party, being thus unable to land, repaired first to St Thomas, and then to Porto Rico, where they remained about a year, and then returned to Europe. They entered the port of Frecamp in June, 1798. The collections, forwarded by the Seine, arrived at the Museum on the 12th of July following.

Never had so great a number of living plants, and especially of trees, from the West Indies been received at once; there were one hundred large tubs, several of which contained stocks from six to ten feet high. They had been so skilfully taken care of during the passage, that they arrived in full vegetation, and succeeded perfectly in the hot-houses. The two zoologists brought back a numerous collection of quadrupeds, birds, and insects. That of birds, made by Maugé, was particularly interesting, from their perfect preservation, and from the fact, that the greater part were new to the Museum.

In 1798, the Professors presented a Memoir to the government, exposing the wants of the Museum. The magnificent collections which had been received were still in their cases, liable to be destroyed by insects, and comparatively useless for want of room to display them. There were no means of

nourishing the animals, because the contractors who were not paid refused to make further advances. The lions became sulky for lack of food; and even the tigers shewed symptoms of displeasure, and forewent their "wonted cheerfulness." The same distress existed in 1799, which was the more to be regretted from the value of the recent collections. Of these the more important were the following :-In June, 1795, arrived the cabinet of the Stadtholder, rich in every branch of natural history, and especially of zoology. In February, M. Desfontaines

gave the Museum his collection of insects from the coast of Barbary. In November of the same year, a collection was received from the Low Countries; and that of precious stones was removed from the Mint to the Museum. In February, 1797, the Minister procured the African birds, which had served for the drawings of Levaillant's celebrated work. In 1798, the collection formed by Brocheton in Guyana, and the numerous objects of animated and vegetable nature collected under the tropics by Captain Baudin and his indefatigable associates, filled the hot-houses and the galleries of the Museum.

The government manifested the most unceasing and lively concern for the establishment, and did everything in its power to promote its interests; but" penury repressed their noble rage," and rendered it impossible to furnish the necessary funds for the arrangement of the collections, the repairs of the buildings, the payment of the salaries, and the nourishment of the animals. These last-named gentry were indeed placed under very trying circumstances; and, shortly after this period, it was even deemed necessary to authorize M. Delauney, Superintendent of the Menagerie, to kill the least

valuable of them, in order to provide food for the remainder. Hen Pen herself was never in a greater scrape.

The face of things, however, speedily changed. The events of November, 1799, by displacing and concentrating power,established a new order of things, whose chief by degrees rendered him. self absolute, and by his astonishing achievements cast a dazzling lustre on the nation, and suddenly created great resources. The extraordinary man who was placed at the head of affairs felt that his power could not be secured by victory alone, and that, having made himself formidable abroad, it was necessary to gain admiration at home by favouring the progress of knowledge, by encouraging the arts and sciences, and by erecting monuments which should contribute to the glory and prosperity of the "great nation."

But, the proceedings of Buonaparte in the bird and beetle line being less generally known than his floating at Tilsit, or his sinking at Waterloo, their narration will afford materials for another article, which, however, must be postponed till next month. We shall then bring down the history of this magnificent establishment to the present times, and conclude by a description of its existing state.

I Do not care a farthing about any man, woman, or child, in the world. You think that I am joking, Jemmy; but you are mistaken. What! you look at me again with those honest eyes of yours staring with wonder, and making a demi-pathetic, demi-angry appeal for an exception in your favour. Well, Jemmy, I do care about you, my honest fellow, so uncork the other bottle.

Did you ever see me out of humour in your life for the tenth part of a second?-Never, so help me, God!-Did you ever hear me speak ill of another? I might, perhaps, have cracked a joke -indeed, I have cracked a good many such in my time at a man's expense behind his back; but never have I said anything which I would not say to his face, or what I would not take from him with treble hardness of recoil, if it so pleased him to return it; but real bona fide evil-speaking was never uttered by me. I never quar

relled with any one. You are going to put me in mind of my duel with Captain Maxwell. I acknowledge I fought it, and fired three shots. What then? Could I avoid it? I was no more angry with him, when I sent the message, than I was at the moment of my birth. Duelling is an absurd custom of the country, which I must comply with when occasion requires. The occasion had turned up, and I fought of course. Never was I happier than when I felt the blood trickling over my shoulders-for the wise laws of honour were satisfied, and I was rid of the cursed trouble. I was sick of the puppyism of punctilio, and the booby legislation of the seconds, and was glad to escape from it by a scratch. I made it up with Maxwell, who was an honest, though a hot-headed and obstinate man-and you know I was executor to his will. Indeed, he dined with me the very day-week after the duel. Yet, spite of this equanimity,

tied his bottle, and we staggered home in great concord. In point of .fact, men of sense think not of such things, and mingle freely in society as if they never occurred. Why then should I be supposed to have any feeling whatever, whether of anger or pleasure about them?

My friends? Where are they? Ay, Jemmy, I do understand what that pressure of my hand means. But where is the other? Nowhere! Acquaintances I have in hundredsboon companions in dozens-fellows to whom I make myself as agreeable as I can, and whose society gives me pleasure. There's Jack Meggot-the best joker in the world-Will Thomson -an unexceptionable ten-bottle-man -John Mortimer, a singer of most renowned social qualities-there's but what need I enlarge the catalogue? You know the men I mean. I live with them, and that right gaily, but would one of them crack a joke the less, drink a glass the less, sing a song the less, if I died before morning? Not one-nor do I blame them, for, if they were ingulfed in Tartarus, I should just go through my usual daily round-keep moving in the same monotonous tread-mill of life, with other companions to help me through, as steadily as I do now. The friends of my boyhood are gone-ay-allall gone! I have lost the old familiar faces, and shall not try for others to replace them. I am now happy with a mail-coach companion, whom I never saw before, and never will see -again. My cronies come like sha-dows, so depart. Do you remember the story of Abon Hassen, in some of the Oriental tales? He was squandering a fine property on some hol-low friends, when he was advised to try their friendship by pretending poverty, and asking their assistance. -It was refused, and he determined never to see them more-never to make `a friend-nay, not even an acquaintance; but to sit, according to the custom of the East, by the way-side, and invite to his board the three first passers-by, with whom he spent the night in festive debauchery, making it a rule never to ask the same persons a second time. My life is almost the same true it is that I know the exterior conformation, and the peculiar habits of those with whom I associate, but our hearts are ignorant

of one another. They vibrate not together; they are ready to enter into the same communication, with any passer-by. Nay, perhaps, Hassan's plan was more social. He was relieved from inquiries as to the character of his table-mates. Be they fair, be they foul, they were nothing to him. I am torm.ented out of my life by such punctilios as I daily must submit to. I wonder you keep company says a friend-friend! well, no matter with R. He is a scoundrel he is suspected of having cheated fifteen years ago at play, he drinks ale, he fought shy in a duel business, he is a Whig-a Radical, a Muggletonian, a jumper, a moderate man, a Jacobin; he asked twice for soup, he wrote a libel, his father was a low attorney, nobody knows him in good society, &c. &c. &c. Why, what is it to me? I care not whether he broke every commandment in the decalogue, provided he be a pleasant fellow, and that I am not mixed up with his offences. But the world will so mix me up in spite of myself. Burns used to say, the best company he was ever in was the company of professed blackguards. Perhaps he was right. I dare not try.

My early companions I did care for, and where are they? Poor Tom Benson, he was my class-fellow at school; we occupied the same rooms in college, we shared our studies, our amusements, our flirtations, our follies, our dissipations together. A more honourable or upright creature never existed. Well, sir, he had an uncle, lieutenant-colonel of a cavalry regiment, and at his request Tom bought a cornetcy in the corps. I remember the grand-looking fellow strutting about in the full splendour of his yet unspotted regimentals, the cynosure of the bright eyes of the country town in which he resided. He came to London, and then joined his regiment. All was well for a while; but he had always an unfortunate itch for play. In our little circle it did him no great harm; but his new companions played high, and far too skilfully for Tomperhaps there was roguery, or perhaps there was not-I never inquired. At all events, he lost all his ready-money. He then drew liberally on his family; he lost that too; in short, poor Tom at last staked his commission, and lost it with the rest. This, of course, could

not be concealed from the uncle, who gave him a severe lecture, but procured him a commission in an infantry regiment destined for Spain. He was to join it without delay; but the infatuated fellow again risked himself, and lost the infantry commission also. He now was ashamed or afraid to face his uncle, and enlisted (for he was a splendid looking young man, who was instantly accepted,) as a private soldier in the twenty-sixth foot. I suppose that he found his habits were too refined and too firmly fixed to allow him to be satisfied with the scanty pay, and coarse food, and low company, of an infantry soldier. It is certain, that he deserted in a fortnight after enlistment. The measure of poor Tom's degradation was not yet filled up. He had not a farthing when he left the twenty-sixth. He went to his uncle's at an hour when he knew that he would not be at home, and was with difficulty admitted by the servant, who recognized him. He persuaded him at last that he meant to throw himself on the mercy of his uncle, and the man, who loved him, everybody of all degrees who knew him loved him,-consented to his admission. I am almost ashamed to go on. He broke open his uncle's escritoire, and took from it whatever money it contained-a hundred pounds or thereabouts-and slunk out of the house. Heavens! what were my feelings when I heard this-when I saw him proclaimed in the newspapers as a deserter, and a thief! A thief! Tom Benson a thief! I could not credit the intelligence of my eyes or my ears. He whom I knew only five months before-for so brief had his career been-would have turned with scorn and disgust from any action deviating a hair's-breadth from the highest honour. How he spent the next six months of his life, I know not; but about the end of that period a letter was left at my door by a messenger, who immediately disappeared. It was from him. It was couched in terms of the most abject self-condemnation, and the bitterest remorse. He declared he was a ruined man in character, in fortune, in happiness, in everything, and conjured me, for the sake of former friendship, to let him have five guineas, which he said would take him to a place of safety. From the description of the messenger, who, Tom told me in his note, would return in an hour,

I guessed it was himself. When the time came, which he had put off to a moment of almost complete darkness. I opened the door to his fearful rap. It was he-I knew him at a glance, as the lamp flashed over his face-and, uncertain as was the light, it was bright enough to let me see that he was squalid, and in rags; that a fearful and ferocious suspicion, which spoke volumes, as to the life he had lately led, lurked in his side-looking eyes; those eyes that a year before spoke nothing but joy and courage, and that a premature grayness had covered with pie-bald patches the once glossy black locks which straggled over his unwashed face, or through his tattered hat.

66

I had that he asked,-perhaps more in a paper in my hand. I put it into his. I had barely time to say "O Tom!" when he caught my hand, kissed it with burning lips, exclaimed "Don't speak to me-I am a wretch !" and, bursting from the grasp with which I wished to detain him, fled with the speed of an arrow down the street, and vanished into a lane. Pursuit was hopeless. Many years elapsed, and I heard not of him—no one heard of him. But about two years ago I was at a coffee-house in the Strand, when an officer of what they called the Patriots of South America, staggered into the room. He was very drunk. His tawdry and tarnished uniform proclaimed the service to which he belonged, and all doubt on the subject was removed by his conversation. It was nothing but a tissue of curses on Bolivar and his associates, who, he asserted, had seduced him from his country, ruined his prospects, robbed him, cheated him, and insulted him. How true these "reproaches might have been I knew not, nor do I care, but a thought struck me that Tom might have been of this army, and I inquired, as, indeed, I did of everybody coming from a foreign country, if he knew anything of a man of the name of Benson. "Do you?”— stammered out the drunken patriot"I do," was my reply." Do you care about him?" again asked the officer. "I did-I do," again I retorted. "Why then," said he " take a short stick in your hand, and step across to Valparaiso, there you will find him two feet under ground, snugly wrapt up in a blanket. I was his sexton.myself,