the nearer hills, bounded the distant horizon! -Certainly they formed the only interesting sight we beheld, until Macon, with its quai, its bridge, its churches, and houses, with lower, flatter, and more Italian roofs than any we had yet seen greeted our eyes. We dined at the Soupér of the Table d'Hote, and were much amused with the lively rattle of our married French friend-and the sighing sentimentality of the unmarried Berger.' "Our voyage down the Saone next morning to Lyons was, however, most beautiful. The broad waters of the Saone here flow majestically through a valley, the richness and beauty of which make it a second paradise. Its steep and picturesque banks, covered with the richest produce of nature-with vineyards and orchards, and all the luxuriant vegetation of the Southwhite houses starting from its wooded sidesrural villages reposing on its banks-grotesque rocks, romantic towers, and old chateaux crowning the lofty heights above the river-the varying summits of the romantic mountains of Dauphiné rising near to us-and the sublime ridge of the Alps in distance, altogether formed a scene of which description can convey no idea, therefore I will not attempt it. The day was glorious. To look around-to see the beauty and harmony of nature-the ærial tints that hung upon the mountains-the purple light that tinged the rocks the brilliant sun that shone on the glittering waters-to live beneath that enchanting sky, and to breathe that balmy and invigorating breeze was in itself happiness. "The approach to Lyons is beautiful, but the town is detestable." Probably the reader is of opinion he has got enough of this epistle. CHAPTER V. LYONS. O Sacro, aventuroso, e dolce loco Fresco, ombroso, fiorito e verde colle Di pensier in pensier-di monte in monte PETRARCH. PROBABLY the reader, particularly if of the male kind, and consequently averse to long letters may be of opinion that we have already given him a sufficiently unconscionable dose of the last epistle of our fair heroine, but as we think she can give full as good an account of her own travels as we can do for her, we shall proceed with our extracts from her letters-and the following, like all the rest, we give without either beginning or end. "Without end!"exclaims the scared reader-the volume ready to drop from his trembling hand. Fear not-gentle youth!-to you the letter shall have an end—although it be not the end of the letter.-And here follows our EXTRACT FROM LETTER IV. CAROLINE ST. CLAIR TO GEORGIANA BALCARRIS. "Nothing can exceed the filth and wretchedness of Lyons-the second city of France, the vaunted capital of her rich southern provinces. The inhabitants of the poorest English village or market town, would disdain to inhabit a dwelling in its best houses and streets. The beauty and advantages of its situation, inter sected by two noble rivers-the romantic heights of Fourvieres rising from the Soane, amidst its vine shaded cliffs, embosoming the magnificent remains of mighty Roman aqueducts, sepulchres, baths and palaces-the rich vales and plains extending around it, bounded by the majestic line of the blue Alps, terminated by the glittering summit of Mont Blanc-all combine to render its squalid filth and dilapidated wretchedness more striking, disgusting and unpardonable. Amongst all the sights we saw in this abominable city, none gratified us half so much as the interior of the noble Hospital, which annually receives upwards of 16,000 patients, and is conducted with the strictest attention to the cleanliness, recovery, and comfort of the poor sufferers.-Certainly, the first sight of a nun presented itself to my eyes under a very favourable-if not a very fair form, in the person of one of Les Sœurs de la Charité, who here attend the beds of the poor, the sick, and the dying night and day ;-dedicating their lives on earth truly to God. They are bound by no |