is over. But perhaps the finest part of the French play is the scene where Hamlet relates to his friend Norceste his interview with his father's spirit ;– this is the ne plus ultra of acting. Instead of Shakspeare's expedient of the play "to catch the conscience" of the guilty parties, Hamlet causes Norceste to announce to them, as news from England, a similar story of treason and murder, perpetrated there.

Ducis makes the conscience of Claudius immoveable; "il n'est point troublé," exclaims Norceste in doubt; "Non!" replies Hamlet, "Non!—mais regarde ma mère!" the effect of these words as delivered by Talma was truly astonishing. At the end of the play, the hostile approach of Claudius is announced to Hamlet, while he is engaged in a most affecting éclaircissement with his mother: he starts up, exclaiming-Lui! ce monstre!-qu'il vienne !—and then, after a pause, and a long start, à la Kean;-Qu'il vienne! je l'attends!-ma vengeance est certaine!

This burst-qu'il vienne! je l'attends! is perhaps the most electrifying thing on any stage;—and then the voice of Talma!—non hominem sonat! There is a supernatural impressiveness about it, that affects the soul in the most awful manner,

while it can melt in a moment into tones of the truest and most touching pathos. Talma stands alone upon the French stage, with no rival near the throne, at an immeasurable elevation above all competitors. It is a common, and I believe in general a just notion, that actors are stimulated by mutual excellence, and play better for being "acted up to"-as the phrase is. But though this may be true of the superior actor in relation to the inferior, I doubt whether it be ever true vice versâ; and it is easy to perceive that the powers of the inferior actors are paralyzed as they approach the "intolerable day" which Talma sheds around him, and "'gin to pale their ineffectual fire."

In a word, Talma's Hamlet is "the thing itself;" and may be classed with the Coriolanus of Kemble -the Queen Catherine of Siddons-the Othello of Kean; and though last not least-the Sir Pertinax Macsycophant of Cooke.

6th. Left Bourdeaux in a voiturier's carriage, in which we had not proceeded far before we discovered that one of the mules had almost the agility of Tickle-Toby's mare in curvetting with her heels, and that our driver was a provençal brute, of the true Marseillois breed;-much more vicious and headstrong than the beast he drove.

There is little in the route from Bourdeaux to Tours, to make one wish to linger on the way; and I had often occasion to wish that I had adopted a more rapid conveyance. The public walk at Angouleme commands a fine prospect; and the view from Poitiers is superb, independently of the historical recollections which make it interesting to an Englishman. Every town of France seems to have its promenade. The public walk at Poitiers is delightful; and its situation on a lofty height affords facilities, which have not been neglected, in laying it out to the best advantage.

On the sixth day of our journey we made a halt at Ormes, in order to see the chateau of M. d'Argenson. This is the only chateau I have seen in France that can bear any comparison with the country residence of an English nobleman. It is situated on the bank of the Vienne; and the disposition and laying out of the ground, from the back of the house to the river, which is within 200 yards, is in the true style of English gardening;-and I could have almost fancied myself on the banks of my own native Wye.

12th. We this morning reached Tours, chiefly remarkable for a very handsome well-built street, which is a rarity in France. The view from the hill before you arrive at Tours commands the

greater part of the Touraine. The character of the scenery is made up of that calm kind of beauty consistent with fertility, without any pretensions to the grand or the romantic.

Soon after leaving Tours, our kicking mule had nearly played us a jade's trick. The road lies on the bank of the Loire, under a range of rocks on one side, and with a shelving steep descending to the river on the other; from which the road is protected by a low wall. Our mule, being on the side furthest from the river, seemed to think this a favourable opportunity for venting its malice; and after a desperate effort, succeeded in forcing its companion over the wall. Our situation was one of great danger; for the struggles of the poor animal, who remained suspended in the air by the harness, nearly dragged carriage and all over together. We succeeded however in cutting the traces, and the beast, thus set free, rolled down the steep without suffering any material injury;— and here we left our voiturier and his mule to settle their affairs as they pleased. We might have had some difficulty in arranging our own affairs with him, but for that ready assistance which the law affords to every one who wants its aid in France. The mayors are invested with powers which have a much wider range than those of our

own magistrates; and in all petty disagreements, you may at once summon your adversary, and have an immediate and summary decision of the matter in dispute. This, to travellers at least, is a very great comfort, for to them a delay of justice would amount to a refusal.

13th. At Amboise there is a castle, the principal curiosity of which is a tower, by which they say the king used to ascend into the castle in his carriage. Here are the horns of a stag, eight feet long; and there is a joint of the same animal's neck, as large round as a man's body. This stag, whose horns are, if I remember rightly, still larger than those in Warwick Castle, is said to have been killed in the time of Charles VIII. The château of Chanteloup ought to be seen, as affording a superb specimen of the wretchedness of French taste. There is however an artificial rock there, which, if it were not crowned with a Chinese temple, would be worthy of an English garden.

It is impossible not to be disappointed with the boasted scenery of the Loire. The road and the river as far as Blois are well enough; and the views are occasionally very striking; but, after you leave Blois, nothing can well be more uninteresting.

The peasantry too do not realize the pictures