Russelled as if shee'd bin in the Bam amongst the
Husks, and suppose such was the contents of
the tickin—nevertheless being exceeding weary,
down I laid my poor Carkes. . . . . Annon I heard
another Russelling noise in ye Room—called
to know the matter—Little Miss said she was
making a bed for the men; who, when they
were in Bed, complained their legges lay out of
it by reason of its shortness." Madam Knight
now-a-days would at least want a room to
herself, and something softer than husks in the
"tickin."

Number twenty-two is about Havre and
Rouen: the importance of the former, owing
to its position at the mouth of the Seine and
to the American trade, is insisted upon; and in
connexion with the latter, the heart of Richard
Cœur de Lion, the ignorance of William the
Conqueror and his x mark, the Maid of Orleans,
Voltaire, Corneille, and Schiller, receive each
some notice. Number twenty-three is a debate of
the question "Will there be a war in Europe?"
This has been answered by the thunder of
artillery, a more persuasive sound than even
Mr. Everett's oratory. In the twenty-seventh
paper, Adams's Express and the Express system
of the United States are discussed. The
mission of the Express, we learn, is not "the
transportation of the heavy masses of merchandise"
ordinarily, though sometimes, but "to carry
parcels of considerable value in proportion to
their size;" and the "Expressage" as a system
"may be said to date . . . . from 1840," under
the management of Mr. Alvin Adams. The twenty-
eighth paper is taken up principally with a
description of a Mât de Cocagne, or greasy pole,
and with a tribute to the memory of Coray, the
great Modern Greek scholar and patriot. The
twenty-ninth, thirtieth and thirty-first papers
are filled with anecdotes and reminiscences of
Prescott, Bond, Hallam, and Von Humboldt,
whom Mr. Everett terms the Illustrious Dead
of 1859; alas! before the year was out, he might
have added the names of Washington Irving
and Macaulay.

Italian Nationality is the theme of numbers
thirty-two and thirty-three; Mr. Everett
rescues the Italians from the charge of degeneracy,
and asserts Unity of Government to
be all they want for the establishment of an
Independent Nationality. Since the Roman
Empire broke up she has wanted this Unity of
Government; and not until she again acquires
it—derived, not as of old, from the strong
authority of Rome, but from national love and
patriotism—will she assume the position to
which her natural advantages entitle her.
The thirty-fourth paper is a treatise upon
the Lighthouse, with an account of the
disastrous result which attended the experiment
of a screw-pile lighthouse upon Minot's Ledge,
off Cohasset, Massachusetts: On April 16,
1851, during a terrific storm, the iron piles
"snapped about six feet from the rock; and
the lantern, after having fallen to an inclination
of about 20º, thus presenting its flooring to the
rushing waves, seemed to have been driven
forward with a force that tore the piles asunder:"
the keepers, Joseph Wilson and Joseph Antonio,
were lost. In the thirty-fifth of his papers, Mr.
Everett inquires whether Prince Metternich
should be added to the list of the Illustrious
Dead of 1859; gives a sketch of the prince's
career; and seems to hint that his question
should be answered in the affirmative. The
three next papers have already been spoken of
as relating particularly to Washington. The
following epigram, extracted from the thirty-ninth
number, may be new to a reader or so:

           Roquette, dans son temps,
           Talleyrand dans le nôtre,
           Furent évêques d'Autun;
           Tartufe fut le surnom d'un,
           Ah! si Molière eût connu l'autre!

which Mr. Everett considers he has "poorly
translated" thus:

        Two bishops have adorned Autun,
           Roquette and this his modern brother;
        Tartufe preserves the name of one,
           Oh! had Molière but known the other!

and, certainly, the second line is open to
improvement. The papers from forty to fifty-one
included might be called Mr. Everett's Handbook
from Lyons to Brieg, for in them he, with
occasional anecdotes and descriptions, carries
the reader with him in his travels from Lyons to
Geneva; from Geneva to Chamouni and Mont
Blanc, up the Montanvert, across the Mer de
Glace, to the Jardin Vert; then back to
Geneva to Rousseau's house; to Voltaire's château
at Ferney; to Coppet, the residence of Madame
de Staël; to Lausanne, to the house which the
historian of the Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire, at the still hour of midnight, on the
27th June, 1787, penned, doubtless with a
deep-drawn sigh of relief and yet regret, the
last few lines of his mighty work; from
Lausanne to Freyburg; from thence to Berne;
from Berne to Sachseln, where St. Nicholas, or
Brother Claus, as the peasantry affectionately
call him, fights hard with the Evil One that the
harvests may be abundant, and the flocks and
the herds increase and multiply, and the
produce of the dairy find a ready sale; from
Sachseln to Stanz, Lucerne, Küssnacht, and the
chapel of William Tell; thence to Goldau,
Aloys Reding, Grutli, and the Tellensprung;
from the Tellensprung to Altorf, the valley of
the Reuss, the Valais, and Brieg; and so he
bids farewell to Switzerland.

The forty-seventh paper is dedicated for the
most part to a laudation of Sylvanus Wood,
a shoemaker of diminutive stature, who, on
the famous 19th April, 1775, being a volunteer,
captured a whole British grenadier. You
see, he threatened to shoot the Britisher (whom
he came upon by surprise) if he didn't
surrender; and not even six feet can receive a
musket-shot with any degree of safety, though
the trigger be pulled by a pigmy. The fifty-
second paper is devoted to the memory of
David Boon, the pioneer and first settler in
Kentucky, whose exploits, trials, and troubles