back, pale with amazement at finding we had escaped. Had it been otherwise, the consequences must have been terrible. The exit from Paris towards Lyons is in the worst possible order; scarcely two carriages can go abreast; but notwithstanding our recent danger and escape, the driver dashed on as before, and I felt persuaded that under his misguidance something untoward must happen. However, we reached the end of our stage in safety; but another and another, as wild as he, assumed the reins throughout the journey, and surely it was no small cause of thanksgiving that we proceeded without mischief. The drivers of French Diligences are quite a people by themselves. Their endless talkings, shoutings, and cracking of whips by night as well as by day, admit of no hope of repose to the weary traveller. When we were near Sanlicu, suddenly one of the springs of the overloaded carriage broke, and rendered it problematical whether we should be able to proceed. A country artiste in timber bungled together a wooden support to the dilapidated spring, in the hope that we might be able to hold on our way. Notwithstanding our fracture, the heedless driver dashed on as if nothing had happened; and when we reached Autun, a striking ancient town, and had made a suitable delay for needful repairs, we proceeded for six hours more over roads impracticable enough to try the stability of any carriage less substantial than a French Diligence. Chalons was reached at last.

Our route lay from Chalons to Lyons, on the Saone, a delightful sail of eight hours. The first view of Lyons is far more impressive than that of Paris itself. The unequal surface, and the more distant parts of the town occupying elevated positions, give an idea of extent and magnitude for which I was not quite prepared, when thinking of Lyons as the second town in the French territory. The view of Lyons, and of the adjacent country from the observatory, is extensive and most interesting, and far exceeding in my estimation the view of Paris and its environs as obtained from the top of the triumphal arch of Napoleon. When the eye had traversed the far-stretching ranges of human habitations, and the busy,

ROMISH SUPERSTITIONS.

9

stirring scenes of trade, commerce, and giddy pleasure, which seemed to lie at our feet; and when it sought for still further objects of interest, there-in the distance, appeared the snowcapped "monarch of mountains" Mont Blanc, with Mont Cenis, and the range of the Alps towering away, with bold and well defined outline, in strong relief upon their clear atmospheric background. It was a scene never to be forgotten: but how difficult to present to the mental eye of others, by the feeble though graphic instrumentality of words. It seemed to stand before me like the beautiful creations of a dreamy hour; and I could scarcely believe that after so few days of absence from home, my eye was resting on those noble and far-famed

mountains.

After descending the observatory,we made a visit to the much celebrated and ancient Church, near at hand, dedicated to the Virgin, in connexion with whose name numberless miracles are said to have been wrought; in token of which, the walls are literally covered with pictures representing the scenes and circumstantials of the alleged miracles—some of them distressing, some ludicrous; and little models, in wax, of diseased members of the human body-hands, arms, feet, eyes, &c., said to have been healed, are suspended in innumerable rows. In one corner of the Church I observed a wooden leg of the usual construction-an offering made by a lame man, who had no further occasion for it, by reason of the miraculous restoration, I suppose, of the lost member, the place of which it had supplied. The useless wooden leg became thus a pious and votive offering to the Virgin. The mention of these things may at first excite a smile with many who see only the absurdity of them; but those who know what it is to live under the sober influence of a pure gospel, will see more than absurdity, and lament with me over these sad proofs of a degrading credulity, at variance with that faith which elevates the soul and purifies the heart. In the immediate vicinity of the Church were numerous shops for the sale of the various toys of Popery-rosaries, crucifixes, pictures of saints, martyrs, &c.; and amongst these degrading matters of commerce, a vast

supply of wax models of members of the human body was ready to meet the intentions of every votive offerer. At the principal entrances to most of the parish Churches, there are stalls fixed for the sale of the small trappings of popish worshippers.

From Lyons, our course lay down the lovely and picturesque Rhone to Avignon-that ancient city, so celebrated in the history of the fate and fortunes of the Papacy. As the Rhone is less visited by English travellers than the Rhine, I dwell rather upon its rich and varied scenery; and do not hesitate to say, that it produced on my mind more vivid impressions than even the Rhine itself, or the richer parts of the Danube which I visited on my return. The Rhone deserves far more attention than it has yet received. Travellers are frequently too ready to follow in a beaten track, and perhaps often admire scenes of celebrity more because others have admired them, than on account of any direct or comparative impressions which they themselves have received.

From Lyons to Avignon the scenery is for the most part progressive in boldness and picturesque beauty. Always rapid, frequently broad and expansive, the rich river-current flows on majestically. It effects a junction with the Saone at Lyons. The bold hills on the right, or western bank of the Rhone, are generally clothed with terraces of vines from the margin of the river to their very summits; and on some of them is produced the delicious Hermitage, the Vin du Perryae, as well as the Vin ordinaire of the country. The towns and villages on both banks are often bold, very bold, and always interesting as pictures, exhibiting as a prominent feature, the light gracefulness of the Italian style. White convents, and religious houses, occupying often difficult and elevated positions, give great enrichment to the scene. True, we have not on the banks of the Rhone those fine remains of ancient fortification which impart an aspect of majestic grandeur to the heights on either side the Rhine; but we have that which more than compensates-the noble range of the

Alps, with their snow-capped summits stealing in upon the scene at various bends of the river, giving massiveness and grandeur to the whole.

While in conversation with an intelligent Englishman, whose avocations were connected with the Rhone navigation, I learnt, that among the mountain-population on either side of the river, an important protestant movement was progressing; that the priests were fully aware of it, and that many of them did not hesitate to confess that the people were no longer to be driven, but must be led. There seems to be no doubt that the personal influence of the Romish priesthood in France is on the decline-perhaps more than that, not only in the cities and towns, but in the more secluded parts of the kingdom also. This may be the effect of several causes-separately acting, or combined; such as the natural unwillingness of unregenerate man to submit to spiritual constraint, the growing influence of a practical infidelity, and a spirit of inquiry in the minds of the more thoughtful, which leads them to surmise the unscriptural nature of the spiritual and temporal dominancy of their Church. Dispensations and indulgences are however still sought for, and purchased at various prices according to the wants and ability of the purchasers; and masses for the dead are doled out at from three francs and upwards.

The approach to Avignon was graced by large numbers of almond trees in blossom, enlivening by their delicate and florid tints, the groves of olive and cypress amidst which they are planted; and it was charming to find ourselves at length brief sojourners in the ancient city itself-venerable in appearance-venerable in its associations. Before the sun had begun to set, we ascended the elevation occupied by the fine old cathedral, from whence we commanded the continuous windings of the Rhone, along which we had so recently passed, and the rich hill-country through which it flows.

Pursuing our course towards Nismes, for the sake of visiting its ancient Roman remains, we again embarked on the

Rhone, amidst the charms of a sweet spring morning, while the rays of the early sun shed a peculiar lustre upon the mist-enveloped city of Avignon and its surrounding hill and valley. On reaching Beaucaire, we proceeded by land to Nismes, and soon were engaged in exploring its interesting antiquities; in the foremost rank of which is the amphitheatre, in a state of preservation far beyond the more celebrated ruin of that kind in Rome. Viewed both from within and from without, on its walls and in its area, it presented to the mind a very perfect idea of the nature of those structures, in the barbarous use of which the Romans so greatly delighted. This amphitheatre still contains, entire, a great number of graduated sittings, capable, it is said, when in their perfect state, of accommodating upwards of twenty thousand persons. It was delightful to view this ancient fabric, and to know that the purposes for which it was erected had long since passed away; that never again would the fierce conflict and the death-sigh of the gladiator be heard there-no longer would the cruel torture of contending wild beasts awaken a thrill of bloodthirsty delight in assembled thousands, enveloped in the shades of pagan darkness. A vast moral change had been wrought, and the record of its triumph is written by time on the crumbling walls of this scene of suffering and of blood.

From Nismes we proceeded by way of Arles to Marseilles, catching distant and lovely glimpses of the Mediterranean with its deep blue waters, on which we hoped so soon to be launched on our way to new scenes of interest. It was with a fresh and stirring breeze that we embarked for Genoa, that seat of ancient greatness, so replete with rich associations.

We were almost immediately under weigh-soon passed out of the harbour, and in a few minutes were upon the blue, beautiful and majestic waters, reflecting the deep azure of the heavens, and laughing in the bright sunlight. Day passed charmingly; and night, with her moonlit-solemnities, kept me wakeful on deck for many an hour. When the morning broke, we found the shores of Italy on our