* Perhaps the reader will be pleased at a discovery, which it would have been unsafe to mention when made, or in the course of this correspondence.  The two young men here alluded to arrived at Versailles, chained together, with their fellow-prisoners.  Surprize, perhaps admiration, had diverted the gaoler’s attention from demanding the key that opened their padlock, and it was still in their possession.  On entering Versailles, and observing the crowd preparing to attack them, they divested themselves of their fetters, and of every other incumbrance.  In a few moments their carriages were surrounded, their companions at one end were already murdered, and themselves slightly wounded; but the confusion increasing, they darted amidst the croud, and were in a moment undistinguishable.  They were afterwards taken under the protection of an humane magistrate, who concealed them for some time, and they are now in perfect security.  They were the only two of the whole number that escaped.

September, 1792.

We passed a country so barren and uninteresting yesterday, that even a professional traveller could not have made a single page of it.  It was, in every thing, a perfect contrast to the rich plains of Artois—­ unfertile, neglected vallies and hills, miserable farms, still more miserable cottages, and scarcely any appearance of population.  The only place where we could refresh the horses was a small house, over the door of which was the pompous designation of Hotel d’Angleterre.  I know not if this be intended as a ridicule on our country, or as an attraction to our countrymen, but I, however, found something besides the appellation which reminded me of England, and which one does not often find in houses of a better outside; for though the rooms were small, and only two in number, they were very clean, and the hostess was neat and civil.  The Hotel d’Angleterre, indeed, was not luxuriously supplied, and the whole of our repast was eggs and tea, which we had brought with us.—­In the next room to that we occupied were two prisoners chained, whom the officers were conveying to Arras, for the purpose of better security.  The secret history of this business is worth relating, as it marks the character of the moment, and the ascendancy which the Jacobins are daily acquiring.

These men were apprehended as smugglers, under circumstances of peculiar
atrocity, and committed to the gaol at ____.   A few days after, a young
girl, of bad character, who has much influence at the club, made a
motion, that the people, in a body, should demand the release of the
prisoners.   The motion was carried, and the Hotel de Ville assailed by a
formidable troop of sailors, fish-women, &c.—­The municipality refused to
comply, the Garde Nationale was called out, and, on the mob persisting,
fired over their heads, wounded a few, and the rest dispersed of
themselves.—­Now you must understand, the latent motive of all this was