ADVENTURES OF CHARLES RAMBLER-2ND SERIES. For Parley's Magazine. HAVRE is a small, old city. The ob- to the eye an ever-varying prospect; and jects which strike the eye of a stran- we here found that the associations clusger are the docks and stone piers, one in tering around sunny France' were no particular called the Pier-Head. This fables. Nature smiled in beauty; and if stretches out towards the mouth of the happiness dwells not there, it must be Seine, and affords a fine promenade. man that prevents it. I must omit particular description, because I was in the city too short a time for a careful survey. Our ship reached the dock in the evening. On the following day some of my companions obtained passports for Paris, but the persons employed in the Police Bureau, or office for granting permits to foreigners to travel in the country, a thing unknown in republican America, were so slow in their movements, that others failed to be possessed of those important documents, which alone under some circumstances, could prevent the yawning of prison doors. The next morning, July 1, at an early hour we made other attempts to get passports, but in vain. We were at last told, though not before we had ourselves determined to go and risk the prison affair, that we might proceed to Paris with our American passports, that is, the passports given us by the French consul in New-York. The steamboat which goes up the Seine as far as Rouen, was soon ready to start. Customhouse affairs having been settled, and the demands of the porters and commissioners met, we entered the boat and moved away. Our passage to Rouen was delightful. Sloping hills, green fields, chateaux, villages and hamlets, presented We arrived at Rouen in the afternoon. We looked around the city, went into the Hall of Justice and the Cathedral, celebrated by its being connected with some important events in the early history of this part of France. After looking at the cathedral and some other buildings, we crossed the Seine on a bridge of boats, and returned over one of stone, on the centre of which is an equestrian statue of Corneille, a celebrated French writer. The next morning we left Rouen in the diligence for Paris. An iron steamboat sometimes runs between Rouen and Paris, but at this time it was out of repair. The Seine has many windings between these two cities, which makes a passage in the steamer longer than in the coach. The French diligence is a large heavy coach, containing four departments, graduated according to the quality of the passengers, or the prices they pay. The coach itself has three divisions, the coupé (coo-pa`) in the front part, the intericure, in the middle, and the rotande, in the rear. Another place is over the coupé, where the driver sits. The Laggage is strongly secured on the top of the diligence, over which by means of hoops or bows a covering is drawn, that shelters the driver and protects the baggage from I must pass on to a more remote region. rain. The weather was warm, and the diligence rolled heavily along over the paved road. The ground was dry, and the soil being of a fine quality, made an abundant material for dust. Our clothes were thoroughly coated with the flying element, and the eyes, mouth and lungs shared largely in the lavish distribution. When we stopped at noon, we were so marked, that we resembled a company of millers. In the afternoon the dust was less oppres sive, so that we moved on towards Paris in tolerable comfort, and reached the city before night. Now, my friends, shall I tell you something about this abode of wonders, this world in itself? But what shall I talk about? The Boulevards, the Columns, the Gardens, the Bridges, the Arches? No, no; I was only a passer-by, and can only tell you that this great city, with all its vices, has much in its mere outward form (for I could see nothing more) that is worth the attention of the traveler. I may possibly at a fature period give you some description of Paris, but at present I left Paris in the diligence for Geneva about six o'clock in the afternoon of July 5. For a few miles our course lay along the left bank of the Seine. The river soon abandoned the route, or the route a bandoned the river. What the fact was, I must let those who are better acquain⚫ ted with the geography of France than I was, decide. Be this as it may, I saw no more of the Seine. Night spread its mantle around us, but brought little rest to the diligence-tost traveler. We found in various places, in the course of three days and three nights on the road, refreshment for 'man and beast,' as our Newengland tavern signs sometimes say. We passed through Dijon, Auxonne, Dole, and some other places, and reached Poligny, a small town at the foot of the Jura mountains, just when the day had left us, and the shades of night had settled down on the hills. At Poligny our mountain rambles commenced. Before the diligence had passed the dark and narrow streets of this town, which seemed to be out of sight of people, we found the steep windings of the mountains. During a considerable part of the night the road was up, up, up, and the morning light showed us some of those wild and magnificent cliffs which hold communion with cloudy regions and driving storms. The clouds however at this time had deserted their abodes, and left the pure blue air in quict possession of lofty rocks and jutting crags. The road sometimes wound up, along the brow of a hill, which overlooked a deep ravine, then down into some narrow gorge, and again along the borders of a far-stretching mountain wall, which formed the battlements of some sunny valley. About noon the diligence passed the eastern summits of the Jura, and a new world burst upon us. Here was Switzerlaud. At the foot of the mountain below,-stretching for many miles north and south, checkered with woodlands, green fields, towns, villages and churches, was the valley of lake Leman. The lake, further east, displayed its polished surface in the bright radiance of a summer sun. Beyond and near the lake were the mountains of Savoy, and still more remote the snowy forms of the Alpine chain, while their 'monarch,' Mont Blanc, far above them all, reared its summit into the deep blue of heaven. Such prospects are not often enjoyed. The ocean, rippling in the moonbeams, affords a vision of beauty; and, tossed by the tempest, one of grandeur: the variegated view of meadow, vale, hill, is beautiful; and that of the solitary mountain is magnificent: VOL. VIII. AUGUST, 1840. R but this view before me was one vast panorama of loveliness and sublimity united. Slowly descending, the diligence pursued the zigzag path to the valley. A short distance from the summit of the mountain which we were leaving, I observed a fountain marked NAPOLEON, showing that the conqueror and destroyer had been there. Had the name of Napoleon been inscribed only on fountains and other emblems of peace, happy would it have been for the world! But that name is also bound with the miseries of a Russian campaign, the shrieks of the dying on the plains of Syria, and the horrors of Waterloo. I would not pass a sweeping condemnation on every act of Bonaparte, for I believe he did some good; yet I fear the evil which he caused was far greater than the benefits he ever rendered to man. We may regard with wonder and respect his mighty powers for action; but at the same time it is only with sorrow and deep regret that we look upon the abuse of abilities that might have blessed mankind. After reaching the valley, and traversing a charming country for several hours, we reached Geneva. My first impressions on entering that city, whose environs are the living emblems of all that is grand and beautiful in the material world, will not be soon forgotten. As I gazed on the clear blue of the lake, whose waters rushed on to re-form the majestic Rhone; as I traced the beautiful promenades on the city ramparts, and viewed and the borders of Leman; as I looked on the beautiful villas and the lofty hills, I was filled with rapture and delight; and I thought that no one, whose home was Geneva, would ever stray beyond the confines of this lake and these magnificent mountains. the noble fabrics which adorn its streets more level, though not what would be called level on the sea-coast of Newengland. Night soon came, and we passed on in darkness. At a late hour we reached Bulle, where 'man and horse' took a little repose, short however, for we were in a few hours on the road again, and soon after sunrise entered Friburg. I walked from Friburg to Berne, and thus resumed the pedestrian movements, to which, at home, I had been long accustomed. I reached Berne in the afternoon, there made a short stay, and then came to my present abode. My residence has been a few miles from Berne, in Hofwyl, which I shall make a rallying point, and from which I may give an account of various excursions in a country abounding in all that can delight the eye, or afford deep and lasting pleasure to the mind. On a bright sunny morning I left Geneva in a steamboat for Vevay. This passage was delightful beyond the power of words to describe, and they who would know the beauties so lavishly scattered on all sides must not rest satisfied with written accounts; they must view what here exists with their own eyes. I landed at Vevay, a small town not far from the head of the lake, intending to leave immediately for Berne,but the places in the diligence were all engaged. Hence I was obliged to wait another day. In the afternoon of the following day I start ed for Berne. For some few miles beyond Vevay, the road ascends a steep and rough mountain side, and is afterwards * *Since the time of my passing over these hills a new road has been constructed, which for some distance affords a fine view of Mont Blanc. This mountain is seen beyond the lake and the immediate highlands of Savoy. Switzerland, above all other countries, it seems to me, deserves the name of an earthly paradise; and I hope some of my readers may one day climb its mountains, traverse its valleys, and gaze on its winding rivers and glassy lakes. Adieu, CHARLES RAMBLER. THE FIRST DIVING BELL, AND GOV. PHIPPS. THE They descended in it, with a lighted candle, to a considerable depth. In 1683, William Phipps, the son of a blacksmith, and afterwards governor of Massachusetts bay, formed a project for unloading a rich Spanish ship sunk on the coast of Hispaniola. Charles II. gave him a ship with every thing necessary for his under- much treasure, that he returned to Engtaking; but being unsuccessful he re- land with the value of 200,000l. sterling. turned in great poverty. He then en- Of this sum he got about 20,000l. and deavoured to procure another vessel, but the duke 90,0001. Phipps was knighted failing, he got a subscription, to which the by the king, and laid the foundation of duke of Albemarle contributed. In 1687 the fortunes of the present noble house of Phipps set sail in a ship of two hundred Mulgrave. Since that time diving bells tons, having previously engaged to divide have been often employed. On occasion the profits according to the twenty shares of the breaking in of the water of the of which the subscription consisted. At Thames during the progress of the tunfirst all his labors proved fruitless; but at nel under the Thames, Mr. Brunel frelast, when he seemed almost to despair, quently descended in one to the bed of he was fortunate enough to bring up so the river. ABOUT THE WAX PALM TREE, AND OTHER MATTERS. FATHER, you have grown very lazy lately, said little Sophia, climbing upon her father's knee one day after dinner; you never tell us any stories now, and you used to tell us heaps. 'That is true,' replied her father laughing, 'but having told you heaps, as you say, I do not know any more to tell.' Well then, one of the old ones, father; don't think to get off so; for if I really like a story, I do not care how often I hear it. 'Nonsense,' cried her brother Frederick, whom the mention of a story brought from the other side of the room, where he had been teaching his dog Cæsar to jump over a stick ; 'nonsense, you would be tired before you heard one three times, and I can easily prove to you that you would mind hearing the same thing over and over again for ever.' I did not say forever, interrupted Sophia, I said often. 'You said you did not care how often, and that means the same thing.' Does it?' said his father. ' O father, you know very well what I mean; I only mean that what Sophy said about hearing a story over and over again, must be nonsense; or else why cannot she go and read again some of the little story books that her aunt gave to her last year ? She has got a whole basket full.' O brother, but they are for such very little children, said Sophy, I was so very little last year. 'Well then, now that you are so much older and wiser, you may find enough to read, without asking folks to tell you stories like a baby. There are father's books, if you are tired of your own; and as you like reading the same thing over |