ng on the tall spires and towers, the songs of the
watermen and gardeners, whirring ropes, flashing flags, blooming flowers,
green parks, forest vistas, shining cottages, grand mansions and lofty
castles, in the shimmering distance gave the suburbs of Paris a phase of
enchantment that lifted the soul of the beholder into the fairy realm of
dreamland; and as our jolly crew rowed away with rhythmic sweep we lay
under a purple awning, sheltered from the midday sun, gazing out on the
works of Dame Nature with entranced amazement.

William, in one of his periodical bursts of impromptu poetry, uttered these
lines on

_CREATION._

_The smallest grain of ocean sand,
Or continent of mountain land,
With all the stars and suns we see
Are emblems of eternity._

_God reigns in everything he made--
In man, in beast, in hill and glade;
In sum and substance of all birth;
Component parts of Heaven and Earth._

_The moving, ceaseless vital air
Is managed by Almighty care,
And from the center to the rim,
All creatures live and die in Him._

_We know not why we come and go
Into this world of joy and woe,
But this we know that every hour
Is clipping off our pride and power._

_The links of life that make our chain
Of golden joy and passing pain,
Are broken rudely day by day,
And like the mists we melt away._

_The voice of Nature never lies,
Presents to all her varied skies,
And wraps within her vernal breast
The dust of man in pulseless rest._

_A billion years of life and death
Are but a moment or a breath
To one unknown Immortal Force
Who guides the planets in their course!_

As the stars began to peep through the gathering curtains of night, and the
young moon like a broken circle of silver split the evening sky, we came in
sight of the busy town of Rouen, with its embattled walls and iron gates
still bidding defiance to British invasion.

After a night's slumber and a speedy passage our galley drew up against the
side of our stout ship Albion, when gallant Captain Jack O'Neil greeted us
on board, and refreshed our manhood with a fine breakfast, interspersed
with brandy and champagne.

The next morning, with all sails filled, we wafted away into the open
waters of the rolling Atlantic Ocean, touching at the town of Brest, land's
end port of France, and then away to Corunna in Spain, and on to Lisbon