never to return. But with the first relaxation of this violence, the Reformed looked round for shelter in their own land; and in their fastnesses of wood and mountain, girded themselves for final battle. The broken country in the south-east of France was the principal seat of this contest, which was carried on with the obstinacy of bigotry on the one side, and with the exhaustless intrepidity of religious valour on the other. Of all war, civil war is the most deadly; and its most deadly character is assumed when it is roused by intolerance. The wound is given by the soul, and enters into the soul. The battle is less of bodies than of exasperated minds. In the plains, the Reformed were swept before the regular discipline of the King's troops; but they took refuge among the hills, and then began the revenge. The royal army plunged into the defiles, like hunters after the deer, but they often roused the lion. Their superb strength was wasted and broken down in the obscure, cheerless, murderous hostility of a peasant war. The details of those struggles are the same in all periods. Bloody skirmishes, battle round every hill. The warfare continuing after the fight is done; the darker inventions of civil life swelling the train of battle. The gibbet following the sword; yet all this array of devastation, baffled and driven back in its assaults upon the central, sacred seat of their religion.-A wall of fire round the altar-desolation, poverty, and danger, only pressing the worshippers closer round the foot of the shrine. But all in the war of the Cevennes was not worthy to be forgotten; it had its heroes; minds made for command, springing up like meteors from their obscurity; brilliant and powerful intellects, created into light and power by the fierce friction of their rude elements; chieftains from the spade and the vinehook, displaying before they sank and perished, the glorious resources that nature has in reserve for the evil day. France began at length to feel the exhaustion of this contest; its duration of nine years attracted the notice of foreign powers; and on a memorial, presented by the celebrated. Vauban, even the bigotry of Louis, now in his old age, and the slave of mistresses and confessors, inclined to pacification. As a first

step, the heirs of the protestant fugitives were allowed, on becoming Catholic, to enter into possession. His decease broke off the treaty, and the Reformed remained under a civil death. Louis XVI. a man whose gentle nature resisted the spirit of his church, gave them a legal existence. The Revolution came, and in its hatred swept away all religion. The Consular government, in its contempt, allowed all forms of religion as of equal authority. Napoleon, at once Mahometan, Papist, and Atheist, was the informing and representative mind of his code of indifference. His object was power, and it was unimportant to him whether the stream came pure from the dews of heaven, or was forced up from the stagnation and impurity of the earth, if he could gather it into a mass of strength to break down the bulwarks of nations. On the 2d of April, 1802, a code, entitled Organic Articles, was established for the Reformed. Strong reclamations were made against this act by the Consistories, but ineffectually; and it is still the rule of their government. The fifth article of the Charter has determined that all men shall have equal liberty of religion, and that all forms of religion shall have the same protection from the laws. In conformity with this statute, the Protestants now re-demand their ancient religious constitution, technically called the Discipline. Their chief complaints are; that the Organic Articles allow a Consistorial Church only to every six thousand souls, while the Discipline allowed one, wherever there could be found enough for a congregation:

that the Articles allow only of elders. The Discipline had deacons :

that the Consistories according to the Articles are chosen according to regulations of public contribution and other political objects-chosen of a narrow number and for a brief duration, contrary to the Discipline:

that the location of the pastors, and the decision on their conduct, is usurped by the government:

that the decision of questions of faith is given over to the Council of State:

that the old union and correspondence of the Reformed Churches is broken up by the Articles:

that the Synods of Arrondise

TO

THE clock has already struck four, -the siesta is now finished; let us therefore hasten to the Puerta de los Recoletos, where the beautiful Prado lies before us, extended a quarter of a mile. Even beneath the shade of these aged elms and chesnut trees, we yet feel the heat of the sun;-we are, besides, somewhat too early for the company, and may, therefore, as well wander down the Promenade at our leisure-and then intermix among the walkers, and make our observations upon the various characters we behold. Here and there we may perceive some indolent fellows lying upon their faces, and stretched out upon, and beneath, the stone benches. Now and then a regidor (police officer) wakes some of the slumberers by the touch of his cane, in order to remove them from the seats which are destined for the beau-monde of Madrid. About this time the water carts begin to appear in the walks, and sprinkle the sandy ground, to prevent the dust from incommoding the passengers, and enveloping them in a rising cloud.

The farther we advance beyond the Franciscan Convent, the wider do the walks become,-while a spring of water in the vicinity imparts a cooling freshness to the air. In the centre of a noble bason stands a figure of Cybele, drawn by a yoke of lions, from, whose manes falls the light spray of water, that glitters in

the beams of the sun. The majestic avenue expands itself, as we approach the Alcala gate, to five rows of trees :-here too we find both a multitude of stone seats, and several hundred light straw chairs with backs, which are arranged in rows, for the gratuitous accommodation of the visitors of this place of resort. Opposite to the street of Alcala, is situated the old royal palace of Buen Retiro, which, although it is far from striking either through its architecture or situation, is nevertheless exceedingly imposing, in consequence of its monstrous extent. On the left hand, we meet with another bason, in which stands a majestic Neptune with his elevated trident, drawn by dolphins, who emit torrents of water from their nostrils. In this part of the promenade, the various streams of passengers unite so as to form a crowd; and here too is indisputably the finest situation of any upon the whole extent of the Prado. The Botanic-Garden fills the air with the most delicious perfumes,—while, through its pallisades, are seen, in all their luxuriance, the rarest exotic plants refreshing the sight with their beauty. Further on, a fountain, decorated with statues of the Seasons, cools the atmosphere by a fine drizzling shower, on which the beams of the sun cast all the hues of the rainbow. Besides the three fountains we have mentioned, there are two

others to be found in the course of our walk. One is astonished at meeting with such fresh trees and luxuriant foliage, upon a soil so little favourable to vegetation, as the dry sand on which Madrid is situated ;

yet when we notice the artificial hollows scooped out around every tree and supplied with water from the fountains, the enigma is at once solved, since we perceive, that it is to those we are indebted for the cooling freshness of the atmosphere. When we have passed the street of St. Jerome, the walk begins to contract: before us stands the beautiful Atocha Gate;-on one side the convent of our Lady with its noble garden of olives; and then the enraptured eye roves over the Paseo de las Delicias, and its intersecting walks, as far as the flowery banks of the purling Manzanares.

Yet we must not tarry here too long, admiring the natural charms that present themselves to our view. It is time to hasten in search of character; and for this purpose let us mingle among the groups that are to be found before the Duke of Alba's palace; in front of the venerable Retiro; or between the St. Jerome and Alcala streets. The benches and chairs are now all occupied. Throngs, composed of persons of every description, roll, like the billows of the ocean, towards the shade beneath the elm trees. Uniforms of all varieties are seen intermingled amongst grave merchants and tradesmen, who come hither for the purpose of indulging in conversation, in which they are interrupted by the buzz proceeding from swarms of professed and privileged idlers. In one place we may perceive a couple of monks, wrapped up in their dusky garments, and seated in silence upon a stone bench, the other end of which is occupied by two fashionables, who are discussing the last bull-fight, and who interlard their discourse with many a carao. Elderly citizens are seen with their mantles thrown across the left shoulder, in spite of the intense heat of the sun; while the younger ones pass by us in spensers. And now for our glasses to examine the ladies. There goes a charming young creature, modestly pacing down the walk, wrapped up in an

elegant veil, and attended by an elderly duenna. Further on, two nymphs of less reserved appearance, trip along with large bunches of flowers in their hands, which they wantonly whirl around. Groups of welldressed women have arranged themselves in semicircles upon the chairs, behind which the gentlemen are stationed. It is in this rich parterre that we meet with the most beauti ful flowers which this metropolis can produce; while, here and there, we may observe among them a fair Andalusian, more charming still.

A stolen glance, cast from beneath a half lifted veil, addresses itself in the language of the heart, to a youth, who, buried in an amorous reverie, is leaning in the adjacent walk with his back against one of the elms. The Argus eyes of the watchful ma tron relax their vigilance, for she is now engaged in deep discourse with her neighbour upon some most interesting topics-the subjects discussed in this Conversazione al fresco, being, to the full, as important as those which occupy the fair votaries of a northern tea-table. The men, in the mean time, whether arrayed in the ecclesiastical or lay-costume, examine this gay flower-bed with the penetrating look of connoisseurs; for it is here that coquetry (although, by the bye, the Spanish language, in other respects so rich, has no distinctive term for this noble science) exerts all its arts,-vanity all its manœuvres. Here a captivating little foot and ancle, just discover themselves by chance ;-there the mantilla,

formed of a long piece of fine mus lin, that is thrown over the head, crosses the bosom, and then falls down on each side,-displays its magic powers, and achieves those wonders which used formerly to be produced by the once favoured, but now banished fan. When exercised by one who is a mistress of the art, the mantilla is sure to arrest the attention of the passengers: from beneath its half-expanded veil, propitious glances are thrown at the favoured lover;-contracted in closer folds, it envelopes its wearer in a mysterious obscurity, that cannot be pierced-it betrays a blush in a most advantageous manner,-yet, at the same time, serves to conceal an em

barrassing confusion, while the fair hands of the owner are busied in adjusting the folds.

In the midst of this multitude employed in gallantry, or some one of the pursuits of pleasure, are many who are intent only on gain. Itinerant sellers of articles of luxury raise their cries, some being melodious and others harsh, which thus form a chaos of sounds. Melons, limones, naranjas, figas, dulces, aqua-fresca, limonada, flores, cigarras, fuego, &c. &c. re-echo on every side. Young lads, or pretty damsels, offer you sliced melons, oranges, pomegranates, figs, sweetmeats, and nosegays tastefully disposed in elegant baskets; while athletic Gallicians carry about water for sale in large pitchers, and for a single octavo refresh many a parched tongue. Scarcely is the cigarmerchant passed, but he is succeeded by a ragged boy, who carries a small lamp, and, continually exclaiming "Qui quiere fuego?" (who wants fire?) will furnish you with a light for so trifling a coin as a maravedi.

The broad carriage-way, separated from the walks set apart for the use of foot-passengers, is now gradually filled with vehicles of every description. These, on Sundays and festivals particularly, form a continued procession, driving up one side of the Prado, until they turn round in the circular place before the Convent of the Recollects, and so return to the Atocha Gate. This scene is by no means one of the least entertaining: here may be seen an old-fashioned, heavy, worm-eaten coach, overloaded with monstrous gilt ornaments; this is the antique family equipage of some Hidalgo. Next appears as plendid English phaeton, whose snorting impatient Andalusian steeds are detained by the tardy pace of the four jaded mules, with bells at their necks, by which the neighbouring carriage is drawn, and which a caricature figure of a coachman attempts in vain to urge on by his incessant Arra Mula! Horsemen, as various in their appearance as the carriages, surround the motley procession: the stately prancing Navarre

stallion appears to glance contemptuously at the starved rosinante of a second Quixote, and while splendid liveries excite the admiration of the gazing spectators, many a clumsy, grotesque, Sancho Panza, stuck up behind a vehicle as odd as himself, excites the mirth of the young and fashionable elegants.

The sun is now fast descending behind the Guadarana mountains :the carriages begin to disperse ; the dashing of the fountains is more distinctly heard; the aromatic perfumes from the Botanic Garden, borne along by the cool evening gale, emit a more sensible and delicious fragrance; the heavens already expand their starry canopy of deepest azure across the Prado; and the silvery orb of the moon breaks through the thick branches of the elm trees, casting a paly splendour on the solemn shadowy walks.

The strict duenna has now conducted home her fair charge, through streets where no sound is heard, except where some seguidillas have been gently whispered, here and there, from balconies :-nor is the fair one herself sorry to exchange the bustle abroad for the social circle at home,-in the midst of which, some inspired youth chaunts his warm strains to the guitar or mandoline. About this hour, little parties form dances round some lofty elm, while the castagnets beat time to their lively motions. The evening breeze begins to blow more keenly over Buen Retiro: the ladies wrap themselves up closer in their mantillas, and the crowd gradually disperses itself.—It is at this time, that poor creatures, who have obtained a few octavos by begging during the day, and labourers whose hard destiny allows them no better shelter than the open sky,--succeed to the gay world of fashion :they are seen gliding along through the deserted walks: ill covered by their ragged cloaks, they lie down to sleep upon the benches and seats, which have just been occupied by the most blooming beauties and most elegant beaux of Madrid.