Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale ;
She all night long her amorous descant sung;
Silence was pleased: now glowed the firmament
With living sapphires: Hesperus that led
The starry host rode brightest, till the moon
Rising in clouded majesty at length,

Apparent queen, unveil'd her peerless light,
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.

From Vermanton we proceeded by Maison Neuve to Dijon. At Maison Neuve we dined, or rather tried to dine, but there was literally nothing fit to eat. Every thing was dirty, filthy, and unwholesome, and the bread the worst part of the provisions. Indeed, during the whole of our journey through the provinces, we have had very indifferent bread, owing to the badness of the wheat last year. "Tis well that the present promises an abundant and wholesome crop. From Maison Neuve to Dijon, the appearance of the country very much reminded us of England. We began to lose the vineyards, which are by no means picturesque; and the lands became, in a great measure, enclosed. At Vitteaux, a small village, where is the post, we passed the castle of Sombrino, a fine chateau, but now in ruins. It was once a place of considerable strength, but fell a victim to the desolating spirit of the revolution. The race that once possessed it, and called the surrounding lands their own, are passed away, and it is now the property of the postmaster. Presently, we reached Republic, a house or

two, erected in the time of the revolution, and intended as the commencement of town to be so called. Here the country assumes an air of boldness and of grandeur. The hills became lofty, well wooded, and abrupt, and the vallies exceedingly rich and beautiful. It was late when we arrived at Dijon, and the gates of the town were shut. Upon application, however, they were quickly opened, and we passed, by a magnificent portal, into a fine wide street, and were presently surrounded by the comforts of a respectable inn.

It would detain you too long were I to take you over the curiosities of Dijon, of which there are many, in buildings, in public institutions, and in relicks of antiquity. It is the metropolis of this part of France-the chief place in the Department of the Cote D'or, and the capital of Burgundy. It is surrounded by walls, and entered by five gates. Its streets are spacious and clean; the houses, generally speaking, are large and handsome; and there is an air of life and gaiety about it, not very common in the provincial towns of France. Indeed, we could not but notice the almost total absence of life and activity in the several places through which we had passed, as affording by no means a favourable indication of the improved state of things in the provinces. There was an air of gloom and desertion pervading them. The houses had a cheerless and neglected appearance. No one was seen in the streets-they

looked as if deserted by their population, or inhabited by a people who never went abroad. The smacking of the postilion's whip, indeed, brought a few people together at the door of the post-house, but these were chiefly women, old men, and children, who seemed to have nothing else to employ their time, and no other mode of subsistence than from the precarious charity they obtained of travellers. The roads have been as much deserted as the towns. Here and there we saw a few people, chiefly women, in the fields; but the visible population, even the sprinkling of towns and villages, such as they are, was extremely thin for the extent of country.

We had heard much, before we left Paris, of the perturbed state of the provinces; and, indeed, we were warned not to attempt travelling through them, till order was in some degree restored and we learned upon the road, that we were the first party that had passed that way for ten days. We found, however, as we suspected, that the reports had been greatly exaggerated. There had been, indeed, some little disturbance at Sens, owing to the high price of bread, but it was immediately quelled, and all was perfectly tranquil. The appearance of a gendarme or two upon the road, was the only indication of a state of revolt, as they called it, we' met with, and we passed unmolested, and with perfect ease, by all the dangers of which the Parisians warned us.

Although they are at present suffering much, as the poor in England are, from the failure of the last harvest, yet the general condition of the peasantry in France, has undoubtedly been much bettered by the revolution. The feudal tenures are abolished, with all the enormous cruelties and oppressions that followed in their train-while tythes and game laws have no existence here. By the sale of the church lands, and the estates of the refugees, the soil became more equally divided. The poorer classes were purchasers of from one to ten acres, and upon these small portions are enabled to live with tolerable comfort, in part supported by their own little farms, and in part by the produce of the work which they perform for others. There existed, prior to the revolution, a sort of tax called Corvées, by which the people were obliged to repair the roads by their own personal labour. This was a most oppressive imposition in itself, and was often greatly abused by those who had the peasantry under their controul. There was also the military Corvée, by which the inhabitants of the villages through which troops marched were obliged, at whatever expence of inconvenience and toil, to repair the roads along which they were to travel. This mark of despotism is wiped away. The roads are now in the hands of the government, and they mend them at their pleasure. The consequence is, however, that while the main roads which are travelled by the mails and frequented by the great, are kept in good repair, the

rest are in a lamentable state.

But this is a trifling

evil compared with the oppression and tyranny involved in the former system.

There was a singular mode of tenure prevalent before the revolution, which is now also done away. The proprietor and the farmer entered into a sort of partnership concern. The former found the land, with the stock, the seed, and the implements of husbandry, while the latter furnished the requisite labour; and the produce, except what was necessary to keep up the stock, was equally divided between them. This compact, though it may look well to the eye, at first sight, yet, on minuter inspection, will be found to indicate a most melancholy and depressed state of things at that period. For the poor farmer, without any capital of his own, was wholly dependant on the will and caprice of his superior in the firm, and liable to be turned pennyless upon the world at his pleasure. But this system is also abolished, and what the farmer now cultivates is either his own personal property, or his by a money rental, so that he is unfettered in his plans of improvement, and is encouraged by the prospect of reaping the undivided produce of his labour.

There are no poor's rates in France. This method of providing for the poor was suggested in one of the reports drawn up by the committee appointed to enquire into the state of the poor, at the time of