inserted an account of it in all the journals and periodicals. These proceedings, of course, caused a great sensation in Madrid, and excited no little indignation and alarm among the priests and their partisans; and their fury was so much increased by the publication of the Gospel in the Spanish, Gipsy, and Biscayan languages, that they procured from the governor a peremptory order prohibiting the further sale of the New Testament in Madrid. Mr Borrow was even threatened with assassination unless he would discontinue selling his 'Jewish books,' and shortly after, on some frivolous charge, was committed to prison. This last step, however, was taken in such an illegal manner, that the authorities were glad to release him, after making a humiliating apology for the violence to which he had been subjected. Mr Borrow's sketches of the prison and its robber inmates are among the most interesting portions of his work. Snow-white linen, it seems, constitutes the principal feature in the robber foppery of Spain. But it is only the higher classes among them-in other words, the most hardened and desperate villains-who can indulge in this luxury.

Various interesting incidents are mentioned by Mr Borrow, to shew the desire which the people manifested to obtain possession of the Scriptures. One night,' says

6

he, as I was bathing myself and my horse in the Tagus, a knot of people gathered on the bank, crying: "Come out of the water, Englishman, and give us books; we have got our money in our hands." The poor creatures then held out their hands, filled with small copper coins of the value of a farthing; but, unfortunately, I had no Testaments to give them. Antonio, however, who was at a short distance, having exhibited one, it was instantly torn from his hands by the people, and a scuffle ensued to obtain possession of it. It very frequently occurred that the poor labourers in the neighbourhood, being eager to obtain Testaments, and having no money to offer us in exchange, brought various articles to our habitation as equivalents; for example, rabbits, fruit, and barley; and I made a point never to disappoint them, as such articles

were of utility either for our own consumption or that of the horses.'

A poor old schoolmaster expended all the money he possessed in purchasing a dozen Testaments for his scholars. An old peasant is reading in the portico. Eighty-four years have passed over his head, and he is almost entirely deaf; nevertheless, he is reading aloud the second of Matthew; three days since, he bespoke a Testament, but not being able to raise the money, he has not redeemed it till the present moment. He has just brought thirty farthings. Our limited space prevents us from entering further into these enthusiastic proceedings. We regret to say that sudden illness compelled Mr Borrow to return to Madrid, and afterwards to visit England for change of scene and air. On the last day of the year 1838, Mr Borrow again visited Spain for the third time, and resumed his labours, with considerable success, among the villages to the east of Madrid; but he soon found that his proceedings had caused so much alarm amongst the heads of the clergy, that they had made a formal complaint to the government, who immediately sent orders to all the alcaids of the villages in New Castile to seize the New Testament wherever it might be exposed for sale. Undiscouraged by this blow, Mr Borrow determined to change the scene of action, and abandoning the rural districts, to offer the sacred volume in Madrid from house to house. This plan he forthwith put into execution, and with such success, that, in less than fifteen days, nearly six hundred copies had been sold in the streets and alleys of the capital; and many of these books found their way into the best houses in Madrid. One of the most zealous agents in the propagation of the Bible was an ecclesiastic. He never walked out without carrying one beneath his gown, which he offered to the first person he met whom he thought likely to purchase. The circulation of these volumes has produced a powerful effect on the minds of the Spanish people; indeed, their influence is already beginning to be felt. Mr Borrow informs us that, in two churches of Madrid, the New

Testament was regularly expounded every Sunday evening by the respective curates, to about twenty children who attended, and who were all provided with copies of the Scriptures. By the middle of April, Mr Borrow had sold as many Testaments as he thought Madrid would bear. Every copy of the Bible was by this time disposed of; and with the remaining copies of the Testament, he betook himself to Seville, where he succeeded in circulating about two hundred. Finding, however, that the authorities still continued to thwart his exertions, he determined to repair for a few months to the coast of Barbary, for the purpose of distributing copies of the Scriptures amongst the Christians whom he hoped to meet with there. He accordingly sailed from Cadiz to Gibraltar, and thence to Tangier, where his narrative abruptly terminates. The extracts we have given will enable our readers to form some idea of the nature of this work, which has been pronounced on high authority to be about the most extraordinary one that has appeared in our own, or, indeed, in any other language for a very long time past. We have confined our notice of Mr Borrow's book almost entirely to the events connected with the main object which he had in view in visiting Spain; but some of his episodical narrations are among the most remarkable and interesting portions of the work.

LAVALETTE.

COUNT LAVALETTE, in early life, was an attached friend of the Bourbon dynasty, but the exciting events of the Revolution having opened up to him the prospect of an ambitious career, he became one of the most intrepid soldiers and supporters of the French Republic. During the latter years of the reign of Napoleon, he held the chief place in the post establishment, from which he retired on the introduction of the Bourbons. He was

now accused of having been an accomplice in the conspiracy which brought on the events which terminated in the battle of Waterloo, and, after two days' discussion, was condemned to death. Immured in prison, he endeavoured to avert his fate by a writ of error, but this, along with a petition for pardon presented by Madame Lavalette, was refused. The day of his execution approached,' says the writer of his memoirs; the unfortunate man had no hope left; the turnkeys themselves trembled. On the eve of that last day, the Countess Lavalette entered his prison. She had put on a pelisse of merino, richly lined with fur, which she was accustomed to wear when she left a ball-room; in her reticule, she had a black silk gown. Coming up to her husband, she assured him, with a firm voice, that all was lost, and he had nothing more to hope than in a well-combined escape. She shewed him the woman's attire, and proposed to him to disguise himself. Every precaution had been taken to secure his escape. A sedan-chair would receive him on his coming out of prison; a cabriolet waited for him on the Quay des Orferres-a devoted friend, a safe retreat, would answer any further objections. M. Lavalette listened to her without approving of so hazardous a plan-he was resigned to his fate, and refused to fly from it. "I know how to act my part in a tragedy," he said, "but spare me the burlesque farce. I shall be apprehended in this ridiculous disguise, and they will perhaps expose me to the mockery of the mob! On the other hand, if I escape, you will remain a prey to the insolence of prison valets, and to the persecution of my enemies." "If you die, I die: save your life to save mine!" The prisoner yielded to her urgent entreaties. "Now, put on the disguise," she added; "it is time to go : no farewell-no tears-your hours are counted!" And when the toilet was finished, "Adieu," she said. "Do not forget to stoop when you pass under the wickets, for fear the feathers of your bonnet should stick fast." She then pulled the bell, and rushed behind a screen. The door opened he passed, followed by an old servant of his

When they

wife, and leaning on his daughter's arm. arrived at the sedan-chair, the chairmen were not there. The soldiers of the guard-house had assembled to see Madame Lavalette, and looked on without moving! This was a fearful moment. The men arrived at last; the chair went off. A few minutes later, a cabriolet, drawn by a swift horse, rolled over the stones of the Pont Michel. This took place on the 23d of December. M. Lavalette remained concealed in Paris until the 10th of January. A singular favour of fortune gave him as a retreat the very roof under which lived one of his political enemies, equally powerful by his name, his station, and his wealth. From the garret floor which Lavalette inhabited, he heard persons crying in the streets the police ordinance which prescribed search after his person. The barriers were shut; the delivery of passports suspended; expresses bearing the description of his person were flying about on every side. In the chambers, in the court circles, the utmost consternation prevailed among those who were convinced that all was lost if M. Lavalette was not taken. Paris, however, rejoiced, while the police, falsely accused of connivance, burned with impatience to damp the public joy, and answer, by a feat worthy of its zeal, the complaints of the gilded drawing-rooms, and the reproaches that re-echoed from the tribune. In the midst of all these dangers, Count Lavalette lived, protected by a family to whom he was personally unknown, but whose courageous friendship helped him to bear the agonies of his concealment. His days passed on between agreeable conversation and diversified reading; a double-barrelled pistol hid under his pillow, like a talisman, secured to him some nightly rest. This lasted seventeen days. Finally, on the 9th of January 1816, at eight o'clock in the morning, he went on foot with a friend to Captain Hutchinson's lodgings; and next day, at the very hour when a gibbet was being put up on the Place de Grève for his execution in effigy, he set off, dressed in English regimentals, with Sir Robert Wilson, crossed the barriers in an open cabriolet, and