5th. This day, sacred in England to dense fogs, and effigies of Guy Fawkes, has been here as mild and sunshiny as the first days of September. The influence of climate on the health and spirits is, after all, not to be denied; and it compensates for the lack, not only of luxury, but of comfort, experienced in a rambling life on the Continent. Yet when the evening closes in, and a cold air not excluded by ample window curtains, well-fitting windows, and doors that shut close, makes itself felt, I yearn for the wellfurnished, well-warmed apartments of my home; where the genial atmosphere, and solid elegancies within doors, make one forget the discomforts without. The luxuries and refinements that civilization begets, though they have their disadvantages, are not without many advantages; not the least of which may be considered the love of home they create in those who might not be influenced by more patriotic sentiments. Our country and hearths become doubly dear, when their luxurious comforts are contrasted with the cheerless residences of the Continent; which, whatever may be their pretensions to costly decoration, are sadly deficient in that English indispensable-comfort. Who would not fight for that cheerful hearth by whose exhilarating blaze he has sat, surrounded by the objects of his affection, enjoying all the appliances of competence that industry can supply, or civilization invent? How often, when travelling in an autumnal evening, in dear England, have I glanced through the well cleaned casements of the humble cottages that border the road, and been delighted with the pictures the interior presented. The bright fire, and mantel-shelf

over it, with its shining coppers; the clock, that marks the flight of time; the well-rubbed warming-pan; the dresser with its store of china and delf; and the clean cloth spread on the homely board, round which happy faces are congregated;-yes, such scenes have I often dwelt on with pleasure in England. But, in France, I have as yet beheld none such.

A man, with an air half soldier, half mechanic, is seen loitering in chat with some neighbour, at the doors of the untidy abodes that, few and far between, are scattered along the sides of the roads in France; or else a masculine, ill-favoured looking woman fills up the door-way, cutting with a large knife a wedge of bread, that in colour emulates the tint of her complexion; while a few sturdy, sallow-faced children seem to bid defiance to the angry reproofs she occasionally bestows on them, for tormenting the longlegged pigs, lanky dogs, and skinny cats, that unhappily fall in their way. How often have I, when travelling in the environs of some English city, looked with delight on the neat dwellings, and their trim gardens, redolent with flowers, that are thickly strewn by the road's side. The luxuriant growth of the flowers indicated the care bestowed on their culture; the dahlias flaunted in all the pride of their gorgeous hues; and every autumnal garden guest bloomed so richly as to make one forget the roses they succeeded. The grass plots were green, and smooth as velvet; the gravel walks displayed not a single faded leaf or weed, to sully their purity; and the balustrades and railings, nay, the very walls that inclosed the pleasure

grounds, looked as if they were well washed every day. The brass knocker, plate on the door, and bell handles, shone like gold, bearing evidence to the indefatigable zeal of the housemaid; and the bright panes of glass, and pretty flower vases that graced the windows, were equally creditable to her care. In the window of one of these residences might be seen a staid and venerable matron, with spectacles on nose, anxiously looking towards the road for the arrival of her good man from the city, where he had been engaged in his daily avocations since the morning. It is the hour for his return; Betsy, the cook, has answered, that the fish is boiled, the mutton done to a turn, and she hopes master will soon come. A gig stops at the door; a sleek, well-conditioned horse, who has drawn it, seems to know he is at home; a steady-looking lad, in a plain sober livery, jumps out and assists an elderly gentleman, with rubicund cheeks, protuberant stomach, cloth gaiters, and closely buttoned great-coat, to alight, who, looking at his watch, proclaims that he is five minutes later than his ordinary time, and inwardly hopes the mutton is not overdone.

In the window of another dwelling, a youthful and handsome woman may be seen, even more anxiously looking at the road than the elderly matron we have described. Her dress, though simple, is so tasteful as to bear irrefragable proof that its effect has been carefully studied. A beautiful child, of two years old, is in her arms; and she glances from the window to the time-piece with something of impatience, as she notes that it is a few minutes later than the usual hour

of her husband's return. Nurse, who stands in the back-ground, ventures to hint at the propriety of little master's going to bed; but the handsome mother declares he shall be kept to get a kiss from papa. Her cheek becomes more rosy, her eyes brighter, for a tilbury is driven rapidly to the gate; a prancing steed, down whose arched neck the dropping perspiration denotes the impatience with which his master has urged his speed, paws the ground; the reins are thrown over his back, ere the knowing little groom-boy can run to his head; and a tall, handsome young man springs from the vehicle, and rapidly rushes towards the house; at the door of which he is met by his pretty wife, round whom and his child his eager arms are soon wound.

Such are the scenes which the traveller may behold in dear, happy England; how much more cheering than any he will witness out of it! It is only in large cities in France that activity and prosperity are visible. The post-roads seldom present a handsome residence, a picturesque point of view, or a neat cottage with a flower garden. Few are the travelling carriages that traverse them; and these few are occupied by English, migrating in search of health or amusement. A heavy, lumbering diligence trails its slow length along the paved roads; or a waggon, resembling the ark of Noah, rumbles over them, leaving the beholders at a loss which most to pity, the wretched horses that draw the uncouth vehicle, or the wretched individuals that occupy it.

It is evident that the French peasantry have not the same love of flowers that distinguish ours. Poor,

indeed, must the labourer be in England, round whose humble home these innocent and cheap luxuries are not seen to bloom; but even the farmers in France do not cultivate them. This absence of plants and flowers, as well of those simple but tasteful decorations so generally adopted even by the lower classes in England, forcibly denotes the effects of revolution. That country which has witnessed the triumphal march of foreign armies over its soil, or of revolutionary hordes destroying its possessions, loses the sense of security, so essential to the cultivation of the comforts and elegancies of life. The destruction of property it has once beheld, it is but natural to fear may be again repeated; hence people are more intent on providing for the positive wants of the present day, than in preparing for future enjoyment, which experience has taught them may be frustrated.

The peculiar characteristics of the people dispose them to a facility of excitement, highly injurious to, if not incompatible with, a long continuation of national prosperity. Hence they seem to live from day to day in expectation or fear of some subversion of government, the anticipation of which discourages any strenuous efforts of improvement; as the husbandman whose vineyard has been overwhelmed by an eruption of a volcano or the overflowing of a river, fears to expend a large sum in bringing it again into a state of cultivation, lest it should be once more destroyed. Is not the insecurity thus engendered by popular excitement more injurious to a country, than any advantages to be acquired by its most successful results can ever be serviceable?