Some few weeks ago the Marquis de P____ set out from Paris in the
diligence, and accompanied by his servant, with a design of emigrating. 
Their only fellow-traveller was an Englishman, whom they frequently
addressed, and endeavoured to enter into conversation with; but he either
remained silent, or gave them to understand he was entirely ignorant of
the language.   Under this persuasion the Marquis and his valet freely
discussed their affairs, arranged their plan of emigration, and
expressed, with little ceremony, their political opinions.—­At the end of
their journey they were denounced by their companion, and conducted to
prison.   The magistrate who took the information mentioned the
circumstance when I happened to be present.   Indignant at such an act in
an Englishman, I enquired his name.   You will judge of my surprize, when
he assured me it was the English Ambassador.   I observed to him, that it
was not common for our Ambassadors to travel in stage-coaches:  this, he
said, he knew; but that having reason to suspect the Marquis, Monsieur
l’Ambassadeur had had the goodness to have him watched, and had taken
this journey on purpose to detect him.   It was not without much
reasoning, and the evidence of a lady who had been in England long enough
to know the impossibility of such a thing, that I would justify Lord
G____ from this piece of complaisance to the Jacobins, and convince the
worthy magistrate he had been imposed upon:  yet this man is the Professor
of Eloquence at a college, is the oracle of the Jacobin society; and may
perhaps become a member of the Convention.   This seems so almost
incredibly absurd, that I should fear to repeat it, were it not known to
many besides myself; but I think I may venture to pronounce, from my own
observation, and that of others, whose judgement, and occasions of
exercising it, give weight to their opinions, that the generality of the
French who have read a little are mere pedants, nearly unacquainted with
modern nations, their commercial and political relation, their internal
laws, characters, or manners.   Their studies are chiefly confined to
Rollin and Plutarch, the deistical works of Voltaire, and the visionary
politics of Jean Jaques.   Hence they amuse their hearers with allusions
to Caesar and Lycurgus, the Rubicon, and Thermopylae.   Hence they pretend
to be too enlightened for belief, and despise all governments not founded
on the Contrat Social, or the Profession de Foi.—­They are an age removed
from the useful literature and general information of the middle classes
in their own country—­they talk familiarly of Sparta and Lacedemon, and
have about the same idea of Russia as they have of Caffraria.   Yours.

Lisle.

“Married to another, and that before those shoes were old with which she followed my poor father to the grave.”—­There is scarcely any circumstance, or situation, in which, if one’s memory were good, one should not be mentally quoting Shakespeare.  I have just now been whispering the above, as I passed the altar of liberty, which still remains on the Grande Place.  But “a month, a little month,” ago, on this altar the French swore to maintain the constitution, and to be faithful to the law and the King; yet this constitution is no more, the laws are violated, the King is dethroned, and the altar is now only a monument of levity and perjury, which they have not feeling enough to remove.