had been removed. A lofty and elegant pyramid on the height bore the name of the celebrated Massena; and as we roamed about, we trod over the remains of republicans, royalists, marshals, demagogues, liberals, ultras, and many of the victors and victims of the Revolution, whose exploits and sufferings have filled our gazettes, and been familiar in our mouths for the last twenty or thirty years. A few steps more brought us to the summit of the hill, commanding a noble view of Paris, the innumerable white buildings of which stood out with a panoramic and lucid sharpness in the deep blue of a cloudless sky, not a single wreath of smoke dimming the clearness of the view. Nothing was seen to move-a dead silence reigned around-the whole scene resembled a bright and tranquil painting. On the highest point of the whole cemetery, under the shade of eight lime-trees planted in a square, is the tomb of Frederic Mestezart, a Protestant pastor of the Church of Geneva. A French writer well observes, on the occasion of this tomb, raised in the midst of the graves of Catholics, and in the former property of one of the most cruel persecutors of protestantism, "O the power of time, and of the revolutions which it brings in its train! A minister of Calvin reposes not far from that Charenton where the reformed religion saw its temple demolished and its preacher proscribed! He reposes in that ground where a bigoted Jesuit loved to meditate on his plans of intolerance and persecution!" Not far from this spot is the tomb of the well-known authoress Madame Cottin, and monuments have also been lately erected to the memory of Lafontaine and Molière. A low pyramid is the appropriate sepulchre of Volney; and at the extremity of a walk of trees, surrounded by a little garden, is the equally well adapted monument of Delille, the poet of the Gardens. Mentelle and Fourcroy repose at a little distance; and in the same vicinity, beneath a square tomb of white marble, decorated with a lyre, are deposited the remains of Grétry, the celebrated composer, whose bust I had the day before seen in the garden of the Hermitage at Montmorency, once occupied by Rousseau. How refreshing to turn from the costly and luxurious memorials of many who had been the torments and scourges of their time, to these classic shades, where sleep the benefactors of the world, men who have enlightened it by their wisdom, animated it by their gaiety, or soothed it by their delightful harmonies! Amid the tombs upon the height is a low enclosure, arched over at top to preserve it from the weather, but fenced at the sides with open wire-work, through which we observed that the whole interior surface was carefully overspread with moss, and strewed with fresh gathered white flowers, which also expanded their fragrance from vases of white porcelain, the whole arranged with exquisite neatness and taste. There was no name or record but the following simple and pathetic inscription:-" Fille cherie-avec toi mes beaux jours sont passés! 5 Juin, 1819."-Above two years had elapsed since the erection of this tomb, yet whenever I subsequently visited it, which I sometimes did at an early hour, the wakeful and unwearied solicitude of maternal regret had preceded me; the moss was newly laid, the flowers appeared to be just plucked, the vases shone with unsullied whiteness, as if even the dew had been carefully wiped off. How keen and intense must have been that affection which could so long survive its object, and gather fresh force even from the energy of despair! An inscription to the memory of Eleanor Mac Gowan, a Scotchwoman, recalled to mind the touching lines of Pope-" by foreign hands, &c.;" but though we might admire the characteristic nationality, we could hardly applaud the taste which had planted this grave, as well as some others of her countrymen, with thistles. English names often startled us as we walked through the alleys of tomb-stones; and it was gratifying to find that even from these, the coarse and clumsy, though established emblems of the death's head and marrow-bones had been discarded. Obtuse, indeed, must be those faculties which need such repulsive bone-writing to explain to them the perishableness of humanity. We nowhere encountered any of the miserable doggrel which defaces our graves in England, under the abused name of poetry; and, in fact, poetic inscriptions of any sort were extremely rare. Some may assign this to the want of poetical genius in the French, but it might be certainly more charitable, and possibly more just, to attribute it to the sincerity of their regrets; for I doubt whether the lacerated bosom, in the first burst of its grief, has ever any disposition to dally with the Muses. A softened heart may seek solace in such effusions, but not an agonized one. Some rhyming epitaphs were, however, visible. Under the name of the well known Regnault de St. Jean d'Angely these lines were inscribed: "François, de son dernier soupir Un même jour a vu finir Ses maux, son exil, et sa vie." And a very handsome monument to the memory of an artist, in bronze and gold, named Ravrio, informs us that he was the author also of numerous fugitive pieces, to prevent his following which into oblivion, his bust, well executed in bronze, surmounts his tomb; and the following verses give us a little insight into his character. "Un fils d'Anacreon a fini sa carrière, Il est dans ce tombeau pour jamais endormi, Les enfans des beaux arts sont privés de leur frère, The practice of affixing busts to tombs seems worthy of more general adoption :-it identifies and individualizes the deceased, and thus creates a more definable object for our sympathies. Perhaps the miniatures which we occasionally saw let into the tombstones and glazed over, attained this point more effectually, as the contrast between the bright eye and blooming cheek above, and the fleshless skeleton below, was rendered doubly impressive. Not only is the doggrel of the English church-yard banished from Père La Chaise, but it is undegraded by the bad spelling and ungrammatical construction which with us are so apt to awaken ludicrous ideas, where none but solemn impressions should be felt. The order by which all the lapidary inscriptions must be submitted to previous inspection, though savouring somewhat of arbitrary regulation, is perhaps necessary in the present excited state of political feeling, and is doubtless the main cause of the general pro priety and decorum by which they are distinguished. The whole management of the place appears to be admirably conducted :-decency and good order universally prevailed;-not a flower was gathered, not a monument defaced, not a stone scribbled over. It was impossible to avoid drawing painful comparisons between the state of the plainest tombs here, and the most elaborate in Westminster-abbey, defaced and desecrated as many of the latter are by the empty-headed puppies of the adjoining school, and the brutal violations of an uncivilized rabble. This sacred respect for the works of art is not peculiar to the Cemetery of Père La Chaise, nor solely due to the vigilance of the police, for in the innumerable statues and sculptures with which Paris and its neighbourhood abound, many scattered about in solitary walks and gardens at the mercy of the public, I have never observed the smallest mutilation, nor any indecorous scribbling. The lowest Frenchman has been familiarized with works of art until he has learnt to take a pride in them, and to this extent at least has verified the old adage, that such a feeling-" emollit mores nec sinit esse feros." As I stood upon the hill, I saw a funeral procession slowly winding amid the trees and avenues below. Its distant effect was impressive, but, as it approached, it appeared to be strikingly deficient in that wellappointed and consistent solemnity by which the same ceremony is uniformly distinguished in England. The hearse was dirty and shabby, the mourning coaches as bad, the horses and harness worse; the coachmen in their rusty coats and cocked hats seemed to be a compound of paupers and old-clothesmen; the dress of the priests had an appearance at once mean and ludicrous;-the coffin was an unpainted deal box; the grave was hardly four feet deep, and the whole service was performed in a careless and unimpressive manner. Yet this was the funeral of a substantial tradesman, followed by a respectable train of mourners. Here was all the external observance, perhaps, that reason requires; but where our associations have been made conversant with a more scrupulous and dignified treatment, it is difficult to reconcile ourselves to such a slovenly mode of interment, although it may be the established system of the country. All the funerals here are in the hands of a company, who, for the privilege of burying the rich at fixed prices, contract to inhume all the poor for nothing. It is hardly to be supposed, that in such a multiplicity of tombs there are not some offensive to good taste. Many are gaudy and fantastical, dressed up with paltry figures of the Virgin and Child, and those tin and tinsel decorations which the rich in faith and poor in pocket are apt to set up in Roman Catholic countries:-but the generality are of a much nobler order, and I defy any candid traveller to spend a morning in the Cemetery of Père La Chaise without feeling a higher respect for the French character, and forming a more pleasing estimate of human nature in general. GRIMM'S GHOST. LETTER VII. THIS great Metropolis is inundated. Let the daily papers speak the particulars. London under Water. On Friday the 28th of December, 1821, the inhabitants of London were thrown into the greatest alarm, by the unusually high rising of the springtide, aided by the floods occasioned by the late heavy rains. By seven o'clock, in the morning, the whole of the metropolis appeared like one huge sheet of water. We subjoin a narrative of some of the heart-breaking particulars. Mansion House.-The water ran, with considerable violence, through the lower apartments of this building, and carried away the state bed and the sword-bearer's table. The latter has not been heard of since. Luckily no monarch happened to be reposing in the former. Some ladies in the Egyptian Hall were obliged to climb up upon the shoulders of the Reverend Messieurs Clayton, Collyer, and C. S. Hunter, who very politely carried them to the London Tavern. We have not heard whether any clogs or pattens were lost. Basinghall Street.-The outer wall of the New Courts, erected for bankruptcy business, being too weak to resist the mass of water, suddenly gave way. The tide now rushed with great impetuosity through several of the apartments, carrying away a variety of day-books, ledgers, and balance-sheets, none of which have since made their appearance. Seventeen gentlemen, who had met to make a disclosure of their estate and effects, were in consequence unable to do so. The water mixing with a quantity of unslacked lime in Guildhall yard, completely soused the seventeen gentlemen, and gave them the aspect of having been white-washed. They floated off in tilburies and tandems towards Paddington. The commissioners adjourned the meetings to dryday next. Royal Exchange-King Charles the Second was up to his knees in water, and seemed, as Grammont says, to be calling for "Progers" to "help him out of this well." The gentlemen on the West India walk with difficulty kept their heads above water. The clock was torn from its place, and thrown so high in the new steeple, as to be only visible through a telescope; the Gresham lecturer was obliged to dismiss his auditors, consisting of two schoolboys who had lost their way, a deaf fruit-woman, and the door-keeper. Consols rose at one time to the height of 79, and the debt leant so hard upon the Bank, that it was feared the latter would give way. One hundred and twenty clerks were swept away from the Bank, stools and all. The directors were saved, by clinging to the ingots, but the sovereigns disappeared. Saint Paul's. The organist played Handel's Water-piece, and Arne's "Water parted." Notwithstanding which, the flood rose so high as to force the dean and chapter to take refuge in the whispering gallery. They were afterwards obliged to transfer their dinner from the Globe in Fleetstreet, to that over the dome, which was newly gilt for their reception. The venison was rather too high. London Bridge.-This venerable structure rocked with the violence of the water, to the great astonishment of Tooley-street. The Queen street bridge did the same, which induced Sir William Rawlins to turn back, although he had actually paid his penny. The tolls upon Waterloo bridge rose seventeen pence in one day; they sunk, however, to four pence, on the abatement of the tide. Mr. Stephen Kemble stuck in the round-about on the Surrey side, and was chin deep before a collier could be towed to his assistance. Mark Lane, Mincing Lane, and Billiter Square.-A great number of merchants were forced to quit their residences here, and took up their abode westward, being carried by the tide toward Connaught-place, St. James's-square, and Devonshire-street. Several of them have since been caught in the eddy, and driven within four walls in Saint George'sfields and Fleet-market. Mrs. Serres, attended by a water-bailiff, rowed from her residence in the last-mentioned place, to the King's Head, in the Poultry, and the Cumberland Arms in the City-road; she then touched in Poland-street; but her expectations being damped by the humidity of the atmosphere, she returned to the hosier's at the corner of Fleet-market. Lincoln's-Inn Hall.-The Lord Chancellor in the injunction suit "Paddington Canal versus Thames," directed the defendant to "keep within his banks." The order being disobeyed, the defendant was committed to the Fleet, to the great annoyance of all the prisoners in the lower apartments. Several of the debtors were bailed out in buckets. His Lordship sat in a washing tub: His Honour the Vice Chancellor in a mahogany cellaret, ornamented with or-molu. Westminster Hall.-Messrs. Brougham and Denman rowed to the Court of King's Bench, in the Caroline wherry; that frail vessel went down at the door of Westminster Abbey, and the two learned gentlemen went down with her. They rose again, however, behind the bar, Mr. Denman uppermost. Both gentlemen lost their silk gowns. Mr. Jekyll was seen rowing about in a funny; M. Angelo Taylor in a cockboat; Colonel Thornton in a life-boat: Sir William Curtis in a jollyboat, and Lord Erskine in a fire-ship with a jury-mast. Mr. Scarlett's Poor bill was so completely soaked that its title was changed to Poor Mr. Scarlett's bill. Paternoster Row.-The confusion here is not to be described. Thoughts on the present Crisis, quite soaked through, rotten Hints to Ministers, broken epics, pickled jests from Miller's repository, and dead bodies of Scotch metaphysics, were seen floating in all directions. Messrs. Leigh Hunt and Bysshe Shelley were driven with their respective establishments from Messrs. Longman's down Ave Maria-lane, and before they could utter a single paternoster, found themselves hurled with considerable violence against Vauxhall-bridge. The ladies were received into the Penitentiary, but the gentlemen sailed in a felucca for Pisa. Mr. Godwin venturing in the press to accost Mr. Malthus, got out of his depth, and if it had not been for the exertions of one Caleb Williams, the philosopher of Skinner-street. would never have been heard of again. Mr. Hone was driven into Paternoster-row from Ludgate-hill in a pitiful plight; relying on the aid of some wooden cuts, they gave way, and he was all but lost. Messrs. Playfair and Stewart, in company with Doctor Coplestone, venturing into Mazepond, were caught in an eddy, which, after whirling them around until it made them giddy, left them where it found them. A packet of Mr. Southey's Heroics having been left in a low part of Saint |