ken a very serious turn; I little thought, when
I began, that it would lead me to this conclusion. I feel that I am in
conversation with you, and carried away by full confidence. It is most
gratifying to me to have added an involuntary proof of this sentiment to
the spontaneous expression of all those with which you have so deeply
inspired me, and the assurance of which I have the honour to repeat,
accompanied by my sincere salutations.

LALLY-TOLENDAL.

P.S. Allow me to enclose the addresses for the two subscriptions.

No. III.

_Discourse delivered by M. GUIZOT, on the opening of his first Course of
Lectures on Modern History. December 11th, 1812._

A statesman equally celebrated for his character and misfortunes, Sir
Walter Raleigh, had published the first part of a 'History of the
World;' while confined in the Tower, he employed himself in finishing
the second. A quarrel arose in one of the courts of the prison; he
looked on attentively at the contest, which became sanguinary, and left
the window with his imagination strongly impressed by the scene that had
passed under his eyes. On the morrow a friend came to visit him, and
related what had occurred. But great was his surprise when this friend,
who had been present at and even engaged in the occurrence of the
preceding day, proved to him that this event, in its result as well as
in its particulars, was precisely the contrary of what he had believed
he saw. Raleigh, when left alone, took up his manuscript and threw it in
the fire; convinced that, as he had been so completely deceived with
respect to the details of an incident he had actually witnessed, he
could know nothing whatever of those he had just described with his pen.

Are we better informed or more fortunate than Sir Walter Raleigh? The
most confident historian would hesitate to answer this question directly
in the affirmative. History relates a long series of events, and depicts
a vast number of characters; and let us recollect, gentlemen, the
difficulty of thoroughly understanding a single character or a solitary
event. Montaigne, after having passed his life in self-study, was
continually making new discoveries on his own nature; he has filled a
long work with them, and ends by saying, "Man is a subject so
diversified, so uncertain and vain, that it is difficult to pronounce
any fixed and uniform opinion on him." He is, in fact, an obscure
compound of an infinity of ideas and sentiments, w