we passed through took the places of postillions, to drive our horses, and, in the cities, the inhabitants unharnessed them and drew the carriage themselves. One of the generals of the French army, called the bravest of the brave*, was hurt by the crowd in one of these triumphal entries; in fact, no man who has not filled the throne has ever experienced, in an equal degree, the affection of the people. Alas! it was I who enjoyed it for him, it was me whom it intoxicated; nor ought I to remember these days without gratitude, whatever may be now the afflictions of my life; but my father's sole occupation, from that moment, was to assuage the consequences of a triumph so formidable to all those who were of the vanquished party.

My father's first step, on arriving at Basle, was to seek out madame de Polignac, who had always shown herself his determined opponent, but who interested him at this moment, for she was proscribed. He never ceased, during his journey, to render services to persons of aristocratic opinions, who were flying in great numbers from Paris; many requested letters from his hand to enable them to pass the frontiers without danger. He gave them to all who were exposed to danger, although in doing so he was aware how far he committed himself. For it must be observed, in order fully to estimate his conduct in this respect, that my father, both by nature and by his habits of mind, possessed an unusual prudence, and did scarcely any thing at the impulse of the moment. It was a quality of his mind unfavourable to action, that it was too perceptible of uncertainty; he calculated every chance, and never, in the giddiness of speculation, overlooked the possibility of an obstacle; but, whenever the idea of a duty presented itself, all the mathematical powers of his reason stooped to this supreme Jaw; and, whatever might be the

* General Junod.

consequences of a resolution that virtue dictated, it was the only case in which he decided without hesitation.

In almost every place where my father stopped during his journey, he spoke to the people who surrounded him, on the necessity of respecting property and persons. He required of those who manifested most affection for him, to prove it by fulfilling their duties: he accepted of his triumph from a religi ous devotion to virtue, to humanity, to the public good. What is the nature of men, if these are not the means of acquiring their esteem and respect? what is life, if such a conduct does not secure the divine blessing?

Ten leagues from Paris, people came to tell us that the baron de Besenval, one of the men most within the danger of the popular fury, was brought back a prisoner to Paris, which would infallibly expose him to be assassinated in the streets. Our carriage was stopped in the road, and my father requested to write to the persons by whose authority the baron de Besenval was conducted to Paris, that he would take upon him to warrant the suspension of the orders they had received from the commune of Paris, and to indemnify them in keeping the baron de Besenval where he was. Such a requisition was hazarding much, and my father was not ignorant how soon the favour which springs from popularity is destroyed; it is a sort of power that must be enjoyed without being used. He wrote it nevertheless upon his knees in his carriage; the least delay might cost the baron de Besenval his life, and my father would never have forgiven himself for not having prevented the death of a man, when he had it in his power. I do not know what may be said politically of this profound respect for men's lives; but I should think the human race can have no interest in stigmatizing it,

When arrived at Versailles, it was necessary my father should go to the commune of Paris, to account

for his conduct in the affair of Mr. de Besenval; he went there, and my mother and myself followed him. All the inhabitants of Paris were in the streets, at the windows, or on the roofs; all cried out, Vive M. Necker!

My father went to the Hotel de Ville; in the midst of these acclamations he delivered a speech, the only object of which was to request favour towards M. de Besenval, and that the amnesty might be extended to all persons of his opinions. This speech drew over the numerous auditors who listened to it; a sentiment of pure enthusiasm for virtue and goodness, a sentiment excited by no interest, by no political opinion, seized on nearly two hundred thousand Frenchmen, who had assembled in and about the Hotel de Ville. Ah! who would not then have passionately loved the French nation! Never did it prove so great as on that day, when its sole intention was to be generous, never more amiable than on that day, when its natural impetuosity sprung freely towards a virtuous end. Fifteen years have elapsed since that day, and nothing has enfeebled its impression, the strongest I have ever experienced. My father also, in the various events which have happened since, has continually felt, at the name of France, that indefinable emotion, which can only be explained to Frenchmen; not, indeed, that many of the events of the revolution have tended to preserve such a constant esteem towards this great nation; but it is so favoured by heaven, that it is natural to expect it will, one day, merit the blessings it has received.

Very few women exist who have had the happiness to hear a whole people repeat the name of the object of their tenderest affection, but they will not contradict me when I assert, than nothing can equal the emotion which the acclamations of the multitude then excited. All those looks, which seem for the moment animated with the same sentiment as your own, those numerous voices which vibrate in your heart,

that name which ascends to the skies, and seems to return to heaven, after having passed the homage of the earth; that electricity altogether inconceivable, which men communicate to each other, when they feel together the sentiments of truth; all those mysteries of nature and society, added to that greatest of mysteries the sensation of love, crowd on the soul, and it sinks under the strength of its emotions. My father was at the summit of his glory; a glory which he made subservient to the hopes he most cherished, to humanity, to indulgence; but from that day, ever memorable to his friends and to the nation itself, commenced the reversal of his destiny.

Almost all great men have a point of prosperity, which seems to have wearied fortune; but might not one who had never harboured in his heart one project of personal benefit, one selfish desire, have hoped for a more constant prosperity? He did not obtain it; Providence did not guide the French revolution in the path of justice; my father, in following it, was of necessity foiled. The very night of his triumph at the Hotel de Ville, at the instigation of M. de Mirabeau, the amnesty pronounced in the morning was repealed in the sections, and of that great day all that remained to my father was the pleasure of having saved the life of the old baron de Besenval. Still that was much: alas! we are so little acquainted with the anguish of a cruel death, that to have averted it from a single man was enough to preserve for ever in his mind the inexhaustible solace of an honourable recollection. And will it not always be read in history with pleasure, that there existed a great statesman, who thought morality, sensibility, and goodness, perfectly compatible with the talents necessary for the government of an empire? will it not be more pleasing to reflect that this man was accessible to generosity, and to pity; and those who suffered misery of whatever description in the vast

country of France, could say-if he knows it, and can relieve us, we shall be relieved!

A year of scarcity, such as had not occurred for near a century, combined in 1789 and 1790 with the political troubles, and Mr. Necker, by multiplied cares, silent but in cessant, by those cares which produce no brilliant glory, but which are incited by a sentiment of duty, saved Paris and many other cities of France from famine; he procured supplies of grain from all parts of the world, employed himself night and day on the subject, and often regretted the impossibility of bestowing on politics all the time they required. But so great was his terror lest Paris should be in want of bread, in the midst of a faction impatient for hostility, that it occasioned him a long and dangerous bilious complaint, the source of those which ultimately abridged his days; for his affections mingled with his politics, and while he governed men, he loved them.

I have read among his papers the letters of the commune of Paris and of the surrounding communes, thanking him for his successful endeavours to preserve them from famine. How many addresses of this kind, on various occasions, have I found, sent from all quarters of France! How agonizing to contemplate them, in spite of the lustre they shed on a memory I so much cherish!

During the last fifteen months of his last administration, Mr. Necker sustained a continual struggle with the executive power, as well out of the constituent assembly as in the midst of it: and his situation became every day so much the more disadvantageous, as the violent men who surrounded the court had excited suspicions there of his intentions; and as he had lost the guidance of those whom he had engaged to defend. Much may be said about firmness of character, and with reason it may be considered as an important quality in those who govern : but in the first place I think it easy

to prove that in 1789 and 1790 such was the fermentation of men's minds, that no moral power could have allayed it, and, secondly, it is impossible to possess a consistent character for another. A man may lend his mind, he may lend his resources, but there is something so individual in character, that it can only serve for himself. The personal action of the king is not necessary in the constitution of England, but in the other monarchies of Europe, above all in the midst of a great political crisis, a minister never can supply the energy of a king: and the speeches he composes for him often serve only to expose the contrast that exists between what it is intended he should appear, and what he really is.

I must also allow that my father, frugal by principle of all measures of violence and force, repugnant by disposition to all the resources of corruption, had no other arms against the factious than reason; but if he had resorted to other maxims, still I firmly believe that, in the existing circumstances, the king only could have defended the king, and that the words of a minister who was known to be without influence at court, could not have the power of a single word pronounced on the throne.

To be continued.

For the Literary Magazine.

DISTINCTIONS BETWEEN SYNONY

MOUS WORDS.

Burden, Load.

BURDEN, says the German sy. nonymist Eberhard, is etymologically connected with the verb "to bear," as is "load" with "to load." The one means a weight borne, the other a weight imposed; both include the idea of weight lifted.

"The porter sweats under his burden.”

"The waggon creaks beneath its load."

When we are considering in a ship its power of bearing or lifting, we talk of its burden; when we are considering the means of stowing and heaving the cargo, we talk of its loading.

Dr. Trusler says, erroneously, that by burden we understand a weight possible to be borne; but by load, a weight more than we are able to bear.

The following phrases are both usual and correct:

"What do you ask for that load of wood? you have employed plenty of cattle to draw it." "The burden was too much for him; he has got an injury." "You are to carry back the hampers empty; you will have a light load."

"to bulge," or "to bilge," which is itself a derivative from the substantive "belly;" in Anglo Saxon bilig. Bilge-water is the water contained in the belly of a ship.

Bailey is incorrect in deriving billow from bellen, to bark or roar. Were he right, billows would signify the noisier waves.

The waves are so called from the Anglo Saxon word waeg, which is connected with weagan, to weigh. A balancing or oscillatory motion is therefore the radical or essential idea; and a wave may be defined a ridge of water in a state of oscillation.

The wave behind impels the wave before.

From the substantive "wave" comes a verb "to wave ;" and from the verb " to wave" comes a frequentative verb "to waver." From "to waver" is formed the verbal substantive "a wavering."

Undulation is identical in form with wavering. From unda, wave, comes the frequentative verb undulare, and hence the verbal substantive undulatio. But as in wave the fundamental idea is oscillation, whereas in unda the fundamental idea is swelling, the metaphorical use of wavering and undulation is different; although when applied to sensible objects the meaning of these words is not always distinguishable.

"The waverings of hesitation." "The undulations of pride.”

We say "the wavering of boughs," because they oscillate; but not "the undulation of boughs," because they do not upswell. " Undans Etna." "Undat equis." "Undulata toga."

"Undulated waistcoats are now in fashion." " Through undulating air the sounds are sent."

Fluctuation is derived from fluctus, of which the etymon is connected with fluere, to flow, and flumen, flood. Those waves which flow faster than others are the fluctus. Movement, tossing, is the prominent feature described.

"The fluctuations of the tide." "The fluctuations of opinion." "As the greatest part of my estate has hitherto been of an unsteady and volatile nature, either tost upon seas or fluctuating in funds, it is now fixed and settled in substantial acres and tenements."

Clergyman, Parson, Minister,
Priest.

There are three ranks of clergymen below that of a dignitary : parson, vicar, and curate. Parson is the first, meaning a rector, or he who receives the great tythes of a benefice. By the word parson then is implied one of a particular class of clergy, whereas by the word clergyman is understood any person_ordained to serve at the altar. Parsons are always priests; many clergymen are only deacons. Every bishop, dean, prebend, &c. is a clergyman, though not always a parson.

So far Dr. Trusler, and well; but he omits to notice the remaining synonyms. A minister is one who actually or habitually serves at the altar. The clergyman who delegates his functions is not a minister. The dissenting clergy are all ministers; for as ordination with them confers no indelible character, on ceasing to officiate they revert into laymen. A priest is one of the second order in the hierarchy, above a deacon and below a bishop; it is a title bestowed by specific ordination, which confers a privilege of consecrating the sacrament. Only priests are capable of being admitted to any parsonage, vicarage, benefice, or other ecclesiastical promotion. The word priest is derived from @gt gos, an elder, a legate, and is applied to the sacerdotal officers of any religion. Minister, means servant, and therefore retains the idea of actual employ. Parson is probably from parochianus, and therefore implies one whose rights extend over a parish. Clergyman, like fisherman for fisher, is a somewhat aukward substitute for the clerc of our ances tors, which meant a graduate, a man regularly educated.

Continuation, Continuance, Conti

nuity, Continuality.

Continuation, continuance, continuity, continuality, are all derived from con and tenere, and have consequently for their primary sense or radical idea" a holding together."

Continuation is used of space, continuance of time, continuity of substance, and continuality of motion. Thus we say,

"The continuation of a march." "The continuance of a war." "The continuity of a rampart." "The continuality of explosions." "The Paddington canal is to have a continuation into the Thames." "During our continuance in any office we are industriously to discharge its duties." "As in the natural body a wound or solution of continuity is worse than a corrupt humour, so in the spiritual." "The continuality of the noise in the street makes me wish to remove into the Temple."

Are there adequate grammatical reasons for this practice?

Continuation and continuance derive from the verb "to continue.” The formative ending ation began in actio, signifying "doing." The formative ending ance is probably corrupted from an obsolete substantive of the Latins, entia, signifying "being." The first therefore has something of a transitive, the second of a passive meaning.

"The continuation of your hostility is unbecoming." "The continuance of my deafness grows tedious."

This accessory idea of action at, tached to the word continuation renders it fitter for use wherever effort is implied.

"The continuation of the thunderclaps." "The continuation of Rapin's History." "The continuation of the species."

But to all passive substantives an accessory idea of state, condition, duration, easily attaches, which renders the prevalent application of continuance natural and proper.

"The continuance of moonshine." "A longer continuance here is im