with its age. There is something pure and
calm in such a spot, that influences the feelings of those who pause in
it; and by reminding them of the inevitable lot of all sublunary
things, renders the cares incidental to all who breathe, less acutely
felt for the time.

Is not every ruin a history of the fate of generations, which century
after century has seen pass away?--generations of mortals like
ourselves, who have been moved by the same passions, and vexed by the
same griefs; like us, who were instinct with life and spirit, yet whose
very dust has disappeared. Nevertheless, we can yield to the futile
pleasures, or to the petty ills of life, as if their duration was to be
of long extent, unmindful that ages hence, others will visit the
objects we now behold, and find them little changed, while we shall
have in our turn passed away, leaving behind no trace of our existence.

I never see a beautiful landscape, a noble ruin, or a glorious fane,
without wishing that I could bequeath to those who will come to visit
them when I shall be no more, the tender thoughts that filled my soul
when contemplating them; and thus, even in death, create a sympathy.

CHAPTER II.

ARLES.

We stopped but a short time at Beaucaire, where we saw the largo plain
on the banks of the Rhone, on which are erected the wooden houses for
the annual fair which takes place in July, when the scene is said to
present a very striking effect.

These wooden houses are filled with articles of every description, and
are inhabited by the venders who bring their goods to be disposed of to
the crowds of buyers who flock here from all parts, offering, in the
variety of their costumes and habits, a very animated and showy
picture.

The public walk, which edges the grassy plain allotted to the fair, is
bordered by large elm-trees, and the vicinity to the river insures that
freshness always so desirable in summer, and more especially in a
climate so warm as this.

The town of Beaucaire has little worthy of notice, except its
Hotel-de-Ville and church, both of which are handsome buildings. We
crossed the Rhone over the bridge of boats, from which we had a good
view, and arrived at Tarascon.

The chateau called the Castle of King Rene, but which was erected by
Louis II, count of Provence, is an object of interest to all who love
to ponder on the olden time, when gallant knights and lovely dames
assembled here for those tournaments in which the go