of St. Amand, and of no
remarkable origin. They followed Dumouriez into Flanders, where
they signalized themselves greatly, and became Aides-de-Camp to that
General. At the time of his defection, one of them was shot by a
soldier, whose regiment she was endeavouring to gain over. Their
house having been razed by the Austrians at the beginning of the
war, was rebuilt at the expence of the nation; but, upon their
participation in Dumouriez' treachery, a second decree of the
Assembly again levelled it with the ground.

Our host, whose politeness is indefatigable, accompanied us a few days
ago to St. Eloy, a large and magnificent abbey, about six miles from
Arras. It is built on a terrace, which commands the surrounding country
as far as Douay; and I think I counted an hundred and fifty steps from
the house to the bottom of the garden, which is on a level with the road.
The cloisters are paved with marble, and the church neat and beautiful
beyond description. The iron work of the choir imitates flowers and
foliage with so much taste and delicacy, that (but for the colour) one
would rather suppose it to be soil, than any durable material.--The monks
still remain, and although the decree has passed for their suppression,
they cannot suppose it will take place. They are mostly old men, and,
though I am no friend to these institutions, they were so polite and
hospitable that I could not help wishing they were permitted, according
to the design of the first Assembly, to die in their habitations--
especially as the situation of St. Eloy renders the building useless for
any other purpose.--A friend of Mr. de ____ has a charming country-house
near the abbey, which he has been obliged to deny himself the enjoyment
of, during the greatest part of the summer; for whenever the family
return to Arras, their persons and their carriage are searched at the
gate, as strictly as though they were smugglers just arrived from the
coast, under the pretence that they may assist the religious of St. Eloy
in securing some of their property, previous to the final seizure.

I observe, in walking the streets here, that the common people still
retain much of the Spanish cast of features: the women are remarkably
plain, and appear still more so by wearing faals. The faal is about two
ells of black silk or stuff, which is hung, without taste or form, on the
head, and is extremely unbecoming: but it is worn o