the price of _her_ discharge." Robespierre, whose savage soul
was occasionally moved by sights of heroic virtue, seemed impressed by
this brave and unusual address. He paused, and after whispering a few
words to his associates, wrote the discharge, and handing it over to a
soldier, for the successful petitioner, he fiercely told him to retire.

Mr. G---- instantly set out for Rouen, where, after a long, and severe
journey, he arrived, exhausted with fatigue, and agitation of mind;
without refreshment, this excellent man flew to the gates of the prison,
which contained his mother, and presented the discharge to the gaoler,
who drily, with a brutal grin, informed him, that a trick had been
played off upon him, that he had just received a counter order, which he
held in his hand, and refused to release her!!!

It turned out, that immediately after Mr. G---- had left the committee
room, the relenting disposition, which he had momentarily awakened in
the barbarous breast of Robespierre, had subsided.

The generous sentiment was of a short, and sickly growth, and withered
under the gloomy, fatal shade of his sanguinary nature. A chasseur had
been dispatched with the counterorder, who passed the exulting, but
deluded G---- on the road.

A short time after this, and a few days before Madame G----, and
her unhappy companions were to have perished on the scaffold, the
gates of their prison flew open, the world was released from a
monster--Robespierre was no more.

This interesting recital I received from one of the amiable sufferers,
in our way to St. Catharine's Mount. The story afforded a melancholy
contrast to the rich and cheerful scenes about us.

From the attic story of a lofty house, built under this celebrated
cliff, we ascended that part of it, which, upon the road to Paris, is
only accessible in this manner. When we reached the top, the prospect
was indeed superb; on one side we traced for miles, the romantic
meanders of the Seine, every where forming little islands of poplars;
before us, melting away in the horizon, were the blue mountains of Lower
Normandy; at their feet, a variegated display of meadows, forests, corn
fields, and vineyards; immediately below us, the city of Rouen, and its
beautiful suburbs. This delicious, and expanded prospect, we enjoyed
upon a seat erected near a little oratory, which is built upon the top
of the mountain, resting, at one end, upon the pedestal of a cross,
which, in the times