last farewell, and mingle his blessings with her dying accents. "Let us compare the experience of this Christian king with that of Abdalrahman, one of the greatest monarchs of his line. "Cordova, the place of his residence, displayed 600 mosques, 900 baths, and 200,000 houses; and the caliph gave laws to eighty cities of the first, and to three hundred of the second and third order: and twelve thousand villages and hamlets decorated the beautiful banks of the Guadalquiver. "Three miles from Cordova, in honour of his favourite sultana, the third and greatest of the Abdalrahmans constructed the city, palace, and gardens of Jehrar. "Twenty-five years, and about three millions sterling, were employed by the founder. His liberal taste invited the most skilful sculptors and architects of the age; and the buildings were sustained or adorned by twelve hundred columns of Spanish and African, of Greek and Italian marble. "The hall of audience was encrusted with gold and pearls; and a great basin in the centree was surrounded with the curious and costly figures of birds and quadrupeds, "In a lofty pavilion of the gardens, one of those basins and fountains, so delightful in a sultry climate, was replenished, not with water, but with the purest quicksilver. ན "The seraglio of Abdalrahman, his wives, and concubines, and eunuchs, amounted to six thousand three hundred persons; and he was attended to the field by a guard of twelve thousand horse, whose belts and scimeters were studded with gold. “Our imagination is dazzled by the splendid picture, (says Gibbon,) and whatever may be the cool dictates of reason, there are few among us who would obstinately refuse a trial of the comforts and cares of royalty. It may, therefore, be of some use to borrow the experience of the same Abdalrahman, whose magnificence has, perhaps, excited our admiration and envy, and to transcribe an authentic memorial, which was found in the closet of the deceased caliph. ""I have now reigned above fifty years, in victory or peace, beloved by my subjects, and dreaded by my enemies, and respected by my allies. Riches and honour, power and pleasure, have waited on my call: nor does any earthly blessing appear to have been wanting to my felicity. In this situation I have dili gently numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness which have fallen to my lot: they amount to fourteen. O man! place not thy confidence in this present world.' "I will conclude this morning's entertainment with a few lines by the princess Amelia, whom I mentioned to you in my notice of our late excellent monarch. • Unthinking, idle, wild, and young, I laugh'd, and talk'd, and danc'd, and sung; 'But when the days of trouble came; 180 CHAP. X. "PRAY, Sir," said Susan, "what place does this gloomy picture describe?" "It is a drawing of the monastery of La Trappe," answered Mr. Wilmot; "remarkable for the austerity of its monks, and celebrated, in ancient times, as the residence of the learned but licentious Abelard; and, in more modern, by the singular reformation and self-devotedness of Monsieur de Rancé. "I will give you an account of it, as described by a gentleman who visited it in 1819. "The situation of this monastery was well adapted to the founder's views, and to suggest the name it originally received of La Trappe, from the intricacy of the road which descends to it, and the difficulty of access and egress, which exists, even to this day, though the woods have been very much thinned since the French revolution. Perhaps there never was any thing in the whole universe better calculated to inspire religious awe, than the first view of this monastery: it was imposing even to breathless ness. "The total solitude, the undisturbed and chilling silence, which seem to have ever slept over the dark and ancient woods; the still lakes, reflecting the deep solemnity of the objects around them;-all impress a peaceful image of utter seclusion and hopeless separation from living man; and appear formed at once to court and gratify the sternest austerities of devotion-to humour the wildest fancies, and promote the gloomiest schemes of penance and privation. "In ascending the steep and intricate path, the traveller frequently loses sight of the abbey until he has actually reached the bottom; then, emerging from the wood, the following inscription is seen, carved on a wooden cross: ‹ C'est ici que la mort et que la verité C'est de cette demeure, au monde inaccessible, "A venerable grove of oaks, which formerly surrounded the monastery, was cut down in the Revolution. In the gateway of the outer court is a statue of St. Bernard, which has been mutilated by the republicans: he is holding in one |