of Gessner, the subject of the Levite of Ephraim.  His pastoral and simple style appeared to me but little fitted to so horrid a subject, and it was not to be presumed the situation I was then in would furnish me with such ideas as would enliven it.  However, I attempted the thing, solely to amuse myself in my cabriolet, and without the least hope of success.  I had no sooner begun than I was astonished at the liveliness of my ideas, and the facility with which I expressed them.  In three days I composed the first three cantos of the little poem I finished at Motiers, and I am certain of not having done anything in my life in which there is a more interesting mildness of manners, a greater brilliancy of coloring, more simple delineations, greater exactness of proportion, or more antique simplicity in general, notwithstanding the horror of the subject which in itself is abominable, so that besides every other merit I had still that of a difficulty conquered.  If the Levite of Ephraim be not the best of my works, it will ever be that most esteemed.  I have never read, nor shall I ever read it again without feeling interiorly the applause of a heart without acrimony, which, far from being embittered by misfortunes, is susceptible of consolation in the midst of them, and finds within itself a resource by which they are counterbalanced.  Assemble the great philosophers, so superior in their books to adversity which they do not suffer, place them in a situation similar to mine, and, in the first moments of the indignation of their injured honor, give them a like work to compose, and it will be seen in what manner they will acquit themselves of the task.

When I set of from Montmorency to go into Switzerland, I had resolved to stop at Yverdon, at the house of my old friend Roguin, who had several years before retired to that place, and had invited me to go and see him.  I was told Lyons was not the direct road, for which reason I avoided going through it.  But I was obliged to pass through Besancon, a fortified town, and consequently subject to the same inconvenience.  I took it into my head to turn about and to go to Salins, under the pretense of going to see M. de Marian, the nephew of M. Dupin, who had an employment at the salt-works, and formerly had given me many invitations to his house.  The expedition succeeded:  M. de Marian was not in the way, and, happily, not being obliged to stop, I continued my journey without being spoken to by anybody.

The moment I was within the territory of Berne, I ordered the postillion to stop; I got out of my carriage, prostrated myself, kissed the ground, and exclaimed in a transport of joy:  “Heaven, the protector of virtue be praised, I touch a land of liberty!” Thus blind and unsuspecting in my hopes, have I ever been passionately attached to that which was to make me unhappy.  The man thought me mad.  I got into the carriage, and a few hours afterwards I had the pure and lively satisfaction of feeling myself