"will take particular care of your son.

your son. Attend "to his education. Let him conduct himself "well, and I assure him, as well as you, of my "protection as long as I live."

The infancy of MARIA-ANTOINETTA was that of the graces and of goodness, to which was early added that fpecies of nobleness which was peculiar to her through her whole life; and which, tempered by sensibility, inspired respect, in showing it surrounded by charms. With all the endowments of nature, the superintendence of a mother like MARIA-THERESA, and the attention of a governess like Madame de Brandeis, every thing good and great was to be expected. from the young Archduchess.

She had so completely gained the affection of all who were about her during her education, that, at the time of her marriage, the joy of knowing she was wedded to the Dauphin of France, was entirely clouded at Vienna by the grief which arose from the thought of losing her. When one reflects on the parting of MARIAANTOINETTA with her family, her servants, her country, in 1770, it is not easy to withstand the superstitious notions of forebodings. She permitted, I might say she desired, that my mother

and I should be admitted to take leave of her. I threw myself at her feet; and, with marks of the most profound sorrow, addressed her in these words: "May Heaven render Your Royal High"ness the happiest of women; and I entreat "your pardon, for not being able to conceal the "sorrow with which your departure overwhelms

." She raised me with inexpressible goodness, and said to me, " Why afflict yourself to "this degree? I leave you my mother, who will "take care of you and your's. We are not part

ing for life-perhaps I shall see you all again "-be sure to persuade your mother that it will "be so: do you hear?" She put out her hand to me, and I bathed it with tears. My mother here came in, and I again saw MARIA-ANTOINETTA throw her arms round the neck of her nurse, and press her cheeks with her hands, at the same time saying, "My dear nurse, I shall "love you as long as ever I live. Do not forget "me." "Forget Your Royal Highness!" cried my mother, falling at the feet of the Archduchess, "it will be the employment of my whole life to "adore you." She wished to add some more words, but her sobs only could be heard, and her senses were bewildered. The Countess of Brandeis, who loved my mother, and who saw the emotion of the young Princess, said, it was better

for both that this scene should not be prolonged. At the same time, she led the Archduchess away, observing to us how much she was affected; and I took care of my mother, whose agitation was perhaps not greater than my own.

On the next day but one, a truly afflicting scene took place. The Archduchess left Vienna. The people all flew to the way she was to take; and at first their grief was dumb. She appeared; and was seen, her cheeks bathed in tears, lying back in her coach, covering her eyes sometimes with her handkerchief and sometimes with her hands; now and then putting her head out of the carriage, to take another look at the palace of her ancestors, which she was never more to enter; and making signs of regret and acknowledgment to the truly worthy people, who were pressing in crowds to bid her adieu. They now no longer answered with silent tears; the most piercing cries arose from every quarter. Men and women expressed their grief alike. The avenues as well as the streets of Vienna resounded with their cries; nor did they return home till the last horseman in her suite was out of sight, and then but to bewail with their families the common loss. The melancholy impression lasted for a long time; and long did the ca

pital of Austria wear the appearance of a general mourning, instead of the hilarity of a marriage. Alas! already was the day marked in futurity when that mourning was to be a dreadful one!

Every tribute of respect, all the charms of hope, all the intoxication of public love, attended the entrance of the daughter of MARIA-THERESA, the young and beautiful Dauphiness of France, on the French territory. On her way, she every where captivated all hearts. Nature, as was said by Madame Polignac, had formed MARIA-ANTOINETTA for a throne. A majestic stature, a noble beauty, and a manner of holding her head difficult to describe, inspired respect. Her features, without being regular, possessed, what was far superior, infinite grace. The clearness of her complexion set them off, and gave a dazzling lustre to her countenance. The most engaging manners still heightened all these charms; and, in the bloom of youth, the elegance and vivacity of her motions, with the frank and lively expression of a good heart and native wit, were particularly calculated to delight the French of those days. She charmed her husband, she charmed the King and all his family, the court and the town, the high and the low, each sex, all ranks, and all ages.

A very melancholy occurrence, and which from that very time was considered as a fatal presage, too soon gave her an opportunity of manifesting the goodness of her heart. I allude to the dreadful accident that happened in the Rue Royale at Paris, on the day of the feast given by the Parisians, in the square called the Place de Louis XV. in honour of her marriage with the Dauphin. A wretched claim was the cause of that sad event. The Prevot des Marchands, head of the corporation of the town, claimed, on this occasion, the right of exercising the police, which would have been much better left to the intelligence and activity of M. de Sartine, who had been long accustomed to it. Inexperienced town guards displayed their fine attire at the posts where less magnificent soldiers would have been of more use. No regulation was settled for entering or quitting the square, for the line of carriages, or for the passing of the crowd, When the fireworks were over, a violent conflict took place, between the body of people coming from the Bouvelard to the Place de Louis XV. and the crowd going from the square to the Bouvelard. On each side the multitude was continually encreased, by all who were coming up by the Thuilleries or the Rue St. Honoré. The situ ation soon became very dangerous, particularly