Heilbron, and took up my excellent camp at Bruchsal, as I had done the year before; but as the enemy was much stronger, I had nothing to do but to cover all the places and the country on this side of the Rhine. In order to render the possession of Philipsburg useless to him, I turned the course of three small rivers, which, instead of discharging themselves into the Rhine, produced me a superb inundation from that fortress to Ettlingen, the lines of which thus covered, were unassailable. Had I been able to leave them, having no longer to do with D’Asfeld, who had been succeeded by Coigny, I should have finished my military career better than by the same passive kind of glory as the preceding year. I gave it some degree of activity by taking Trarbach, and delivering the electorate of Treves. Seeing that there was nothing more to be done, nothing to be gained, and much to be lost, as I had told Charles VI. fifty times, I was very glad at first to be recalled to Vienna, though I shrewdly suspected that this was my last campaign. It would be difficult for me to express what I felt on taking leave of my army. It was a painful scene I assure you. An old soldier only can know what it is to bid a last farewell to such brave fellows, whom he has so often led to death, which I was desirous of meeting in so happy, speedy, and glorious a manner: 'tis the only favour that God has refused me. With tears in my eyes I resigned the command to the duke of Würtemberg; and on my arrival at Vienna I luckily found La Baume, the agent sent by cardinal Fleury, to make very reasonable proposals. France had been rather humbled in Poland. Her garrison of 15,000 men had surrendered at Dantzick, and the father-in-law of Louis XV. had withdrawn himself, nobody knew whither. The Russians and Augustus III. triumphed, as Vol. v. 2 C

might be expected; and I, taking advantage of the desire of Charles VI. to restore the extinguished house of Austria, by marrying his daughter Maria Theresa to prince Francis of Lorraine, we soon came to an understanding, and the preliminaries were signed.

Now I have nearly withdrawn from publick life. I play at picquet every evening at Madame de Bathiany's with Taroca, Windischgratz, and Tessin, the Swedish ambassadour. It is rather for the sake of conversation. People are more talkative when they do not say let we talk, and round a card-table they are more at their ease; otherwise games of commerce are extinguishers of society. In war, I prefer games of chance. At my head-quarters, those who won were put into high spirits, and those who lost fought better: 'tis soon over, and time is more valuable than money. I am fond of the company of young people; they are more pure, not having been corrupted by intrigue. I often see the commander Zinzendorf, a man of enlarged understanding, and of the world; and Frederick Harrach, who adds to these qualities, considerable talents for business. I foresee that he will be raised to important posts, as will, in war, Dhaun and Brown. The first possesses most merit; the second will have boldness; and the last, superiour talents for discipline

and the essential details, without

being trifling. Joseph Wenzl Lichtenstein is likewise a brave general, a good citizen, and a genuine nobleman. Seckendorf and Schmettau, with military qualities, depend rather too much on circumstances. Young Cobentzl, a man of great intelligence, often visits at Madame de Bathiany's. He one day said to her: “It is generally believed, madam, that you have married prince Eugene.” “I love him much too weli for that,” replied she; “I would rather have a bad reputation, than take away his.” /

“If you were not religious, and I was five-and-twenty, what would be the consequence!” said I one day to Madame de Bathiany. “Nothing,” replied she, “things would be just as they arc. I am religious, in the first place, because I love God, and because I believe and put my trust in him; in the next place, because this is the safe-guard of my peace, which comes to the aid of my wounded self-love, if I were to be forsaken; and then, that I may be able to scoff at women who have lovers. I am religious, because I have neither fear, nor hope, nor desire, in this life; and because the good which I do for the poor, from humanity, is of benefit to my soul. I am religious, because the wicked fear me, and are disgusting to me. I am religious, that I may not have occasion to be continually watchful of my reputation; women who are not, dare not say or do any thing: they are like thieves who think themselves pursued by the police wherever they go. But I detest those who assume the mask of piety, or are religious only on account of the immortality of the soul. Were mine to perish with me, I would nevertheless endeavour to be virtuous as I do at present. It is not so much for fear of God, as out of gratitude for his favours, and love to him, that I am religious, without publickly proclaiming it like those ladies who make a trade of the thing to please the court, rather than to please heawen.”

I have been happy in this life, and I wish to be so in the other. There are old dragoons who will pray to heaven for me, and I have more faith in their prayers than in those of all the old women of the court and of the city clergy. The fine musick, whether simple or more obstreperous, of the divine service, delights me. The one has something religious, which awes the soul; the other reminds n\e, by the flourishes of trumpets and kettledrums, which

have so often led my soldiers to victory, of the God of hosts who has blessed our arms. I have scarcely had time to sin; but I have set a bad example, perhaps, without knowing it, by my negligence of the forms of religion, in which I have, however, invariably believed. I have sometimes spoken evil of people, but only when I thought myself obliged to do so; and have said: Such a one is a coward, and such a one a scoundrel. I have sometimes given way to passion; but who could help swearing to see a general or a regiment that did not do their duty, or an adjutant who did not understand you ! I have been too careless as a soldier, and lived like a philosopher. I wish to die as a Christian. I never liked swaggerers either in war or in religion, and it is, perhaps, from having seen ridiculous impieties like those of certain Frenchmen on the one hand, and Spanish bigotries on the other, that I have always kept myself aloof from both. I have so of. ten beheld death near at hand, that I had become familiar with him. But now it is no longer the same thing. Then I sought him, now I wait for him; and meanwhile I live in peace. I look upon the past as a pleasing dream. I go to court only on gala days, and to the theatre when there is an Italian opera, serious or comick, or a fine ballet. If we had a French company, I would go to see Athalie, Esther and Polyeucte. I am delighted with the eloquence of the pulpit. When Bourdaloue inspires me with terrour, Massillon fills me with hope. We were born in the same year, and I knew him on his entrance into the world—a perfectly amiable man. Bossuet astonishes—Fenelon affects me. I saw them also in my youth; and Marlborough and I paid the latter all possible honours when we took Cambrai. I have forgotten the epigrams of Rousseau, and even his ode for me; but I read his psalms and hymns over and over again. I still retain my memory, as it appears; and I think I have forgotten nothing except my enemies in this country, whom I forgive with all my heart. A foreigner, and successful!—This was too much for them. My health is very good, considering my age of seventy-two years, the fatigues of I know not how many campaigns, and the effects of I can’t tell how many wounds. The chevalier Carelli, my physician and friend, furnishes me with a sure remedy for curing what he calls the radical humidity, which he says is somewhat wasted. I have yet many things to do for the embellishment of my gardens and palace; for instance, I mean to buy all the ground in front of that in which I live, and at which I have employed 1500 workmen (because it was a time of dearth, and this was beneficial to the city of Vienna) to form a fine square, with a splendid fountain in the middle. If I should live a little longer, I shall not fail to write down whatever I recollect, and what comes into my head, which is still pretty strong, though, to annoy me, people have asserted that my faculties were considerably decayed. It

was once strong enough to prevent me from dying of vexation, as my friend, prince Louis of Baden did about thirty years ago. I shrugged my shoulders at it, and kept on my usual course. For instance, if I were to interfere in publick affairs, I would say to the emperour: “Take all possible precautions respecting your succession; it will be involved in dreadful confusion. Two or three powers will lay claim to it. Prevent all this in your life-time. Here is an occasion for driving about as I did

in my time to Munich, Berlin, Lon

don, the Hague,” &c. The army and

artillery are neglected. We shall

not be capable of resistance, unless

we contrive to prevent all that is

likely to happen; and unless, above

all things, on the death of Charles

VI. we refuse to go to war with the

Turks. I wish prosperity to the

house of Austria, and hope that it will extricate itself from this em

barrassment. I have written enough to day, and will now mount my

horse to go and look at a lion which

has just arrived at my menagerie,

on the road to Schweikelt. * * *


ON Monday, September 24, about 40 minutes past one, Mr. Sadler, of Oxford, and Mr. Clayfield, of Castlestreet, Bristol, ascended in an airballoon from a field near Bristol, and after twice crossing the Bristol channel, from England to Wales, and from Wales to England, and going the distance of 150 miles, came down on the Bristol channel, three miles off the Valley of Rocks, at 20 minutes past four, in sight of a great number of people. A boat put off immediately from Lymouth, and at 20 minutes past five, the boat got to the balloon, and brought Mr. Sadler and Mr. Clayfield safe on shore, with the balloon, at the Val

ley of Rocks, Linton, in Devonshire, to the great joy of the spectators. The apparatus for performing the process of filling, consisted of two large vessels, containing upwards of 1500 gallons each, into which there were introduced 2 1-2 tons of iron filings and water; the sulphurick acid was afterwards conveyed by a leaden syphon into the vessel, and from thence the gas was conveyed, by means of two large tubes, terminating in nine other pipes in each vessel, which passed through caustick potash and water, into the balloon, by a large silk conductor, prepared for the purpose. The following account has been published:—“Mr. Sadler (being his sixteenth time of ascension) accompanied by Mr. William Clayfield, entered the car at about twenty minutes after one o'clock, the wind blowing fresh from north east, and commenced one of the most daring enterprises ever undertaken by any aerial voyager. Mr. Sadler was well aware of the consequence of the wind continuing to blow from the quarter in which it was at the time of ascension; for if they escaped being blown into the western ocean, they would have been compelled to traverse great part of the channel, with every probability of descending at a distance from the shore; but his zeal to gratify the publick curiosity, which had been greatly excited, surmounted every obstacle, and determined him to make the attempt. The ascent of the balloon was rapid, and yet so still, that all sense of motion was lost to the aëronauts. The balloon, about half a mile high, entered a thick black cloud, when Bristol and its neighbourhood were no longer visible. The cloud did not the least incommode them. From the rapid ascent, the cloud was soon passed through, when the grandeur and sublimity of the view, exceeded the power of description. On looking back on the cloud from which the aéronauts had emerged, the most beautiful appearance exhibited itself. The shadow of the balloon was observed in its centre, surrounded with a most beautiful halo (circular rainbow). The balloon still ascended rapidly, and soon entered a second cloud. At two o'clock the thermometer was at 47. Passing over the river, nearly perpendicular with lady Smyth's, at Redcliff, the parachute was launched, with a cat in a basket attached to it, which descended rapidly for a considerable time before it expanded, when its

motion was slow and peculiarly,

graceful. At a quarter past two o'clock, perpendicular with WoodSpring, on the Somerset coast, near

Clevdeon, left England, and passed over the channel. At mid-channel, opened the valve, and nearing Cardiff, about twenty-five minutes past two o'clock, the thermometer 55, descended so low as to hear the shouts of the people and the breakers between Barry and Scilly islands. Fearing the main land could not be reached, and a current of air impelling the balloon towards the sea, more ballast was thrown out, in doing which Mr. Sadler lost his hat. At half past two the balloon was about mid-channel, and continued descending till forty minutes past two o'clock, when it was perpendicular with the Flat Holmes; the light-house very visible. Still continuing to descend most rapidly towards the sea, a quantity of sand was shaken from one of the bags: but the balloon continuing rapidly to descend, several other bags were thrown over, which instantaneously caused an ascent so rapid, as to bring the balloon in contact with the sand from the first mentioned bag, which fell into the car in a profuse shower. The balloon continued to ascend until about forty minutes past three o’clock, when it approached the Devon coast, the Bideford and Barnstaple rivers being very easily distinguished. The thermometer now at 27. At fifty minutes past three, off Linton, a small town on the coast of Devon, between Ilfracombe and Porlock. After having crossed the Bristol channel twice, at ten minutes past four o’clock, being desirous of reaching the coast, threw out every thing that could be parted with, including a great coat, a valuable barometer, a thermometer, a speaking trumpet, the grappling-iron, and even part of the interiour covering of the car, in the hope of reaching the main land about Barnstaple; but, owing to the exhaustion of the gas, the balloon would not rise" sufficiently to clear the high cliffs of Watermouth, near Combe-Martin. The balloon still descending, and seeing no prospect but of contending with the sea, the aéronauts put on their life-preservers. A few minutes afterwards, the car, with violent agitation, came in contact with the waves, about four miles from the shore.” At this critical moment, their perilous situation was descried from the cliffs of Lymouth, by Mr. Sanford, of Ninehead, Mr. Rowe, and some other gentlemen, whose zealous and welldirected efforts, did them great credit. They sent out a well-manned boat to their immediate assistance, which, when first discovered by the aéronauts, appeared about the size of a bird floating on the water. The car, nearly filled with water (the aéronauts being up to their knees) was dragged along, the balloon skimming the surface, and acting as a sail, when the cords,of the balloon pointed out that they were drifting very rapidly from shore up channel. After being in this state a full hour, the water increasing very fast, the boat approached; when every effort was made to secure and exhaust the balloon. Here a point of honour was disputed between the two aeronauts, which should quit the car first; it being then in a sinking state; but

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boat. About nine o'clock at night,

the party, unable, from the roughness of the beach, to walk without assistance, arrived at the pier of Lymouth, a small romantick seaport, under Linton, where refreshments were most hospitably supplied, and they were enabled to reach the town of Linton, on the top of the hill. Congratulations accompanied the aeronauts through every town on their way to Bristol, where they arrived about 12 o'clock on Wednesday 26th, to the great satisfaction, and amidst the heart-felt cheerings of the citizens of Bristol; after having passed over, in their ačrial flight, upwards of eighty miles of water, and about twenty miles of land. The barometer having met with an accident, which rendered it useless, no accurate account of the height to which the balloon ascended, could be taken; but the aëronauts conceive that they must have risen full two miles and a half.

[FROM clarke's TRAvels 1N RUSSIA, &c.]


AMONG the innumerable inhabitants of the immense plains of the territory of the Don Cossacks, is an animal, which the natives call suroke, the marmot of the Alps. I have seen Savoyards at Paris, leading them about for show. They grow here to the size of a large badger; and so much resemble the bear, in their manner and appearance, that, until we became acquainted with the true history of the suroke, we considered it as a nondescript animal, and called it urga mi

nima subterranea. Such mistakes are not uncommon in zoology; naturalists frequently add to the nomenclature of animals, by superfluous appellations. A beautiful little quadruped, called jerboa, in Egypt, has been described, in other countries, as a distinct animal, under the various names of mus jaculus, subterraneous hare, vaulting rat, leafler, &c. &c. but it is the same creature every where, and bears to the kangaroo the degree of relationship, which a lizard has to the crocodile, i

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