governing in his turn. The domains of Malhause do not extend far beyond the walls of the city. The inhabitants are of the Protestant religion.

There were, I have been told, great festivities at my baptism. I was treated as an heir. I would to Heaven that I were so! I should not then be obliged to await in fearful expectation those convulsions which already announce themselves, without entertaining a hope of being useful to my country, to my sovereigns, who have overwhelmed me with kindness, to the cause of my caste and of my ancestors. I cannot persuade myself that a change of measures will bring an increase of happiness; on the contrary, I believe that the destruction of the monarchy is inevitable, if our sovereigns enter on this dangerous path. May I be mistaken!

My father, the baron Francis Louis de Waldner, head of the family, served at first as captain, then as major, in the Royal Cavalry. He became afterwards colonel à la suite in the regiment Wurtemberg, and at length commanding colonel of the regiment de Bouillon, from the 27th of February 1759, to the 1st of May 1760, when he retired.

He is chevalier of the order of military merit, which is given to Protestant officers instead of the cross of St. Louis, and which differs from the latter only in the colour of the ribbon.

He is also commander of the order of St. John of Jerusalem, and president of the resident nobility in the circle of Suabia, canton of Ortenau.

I never knew my mother, and my earliest recollection is that of the mourning dress which I wore for her when I was three or four years old. That was my age when she died. Poor mother! I have often regretted her. counsels would have

Her

been so useful to me at my entrance into the great world; and since that I myself have had a daughter, I feel how my mother would have loved She was married in 1751, and died at Baldenheim in 1757, in the flower of her youth and

me.

She left three children,

splendour of her beauty. two sons and myself. The eldest of my brothers died young, as we shall see afterwards, and now in 1789 there remains to me only my youngest brother Godfrey, in whom the hopes of his family are centred.

My father had three brothers, one of whom, lieutenant-colonel in the regiment de Waldner, died at Paris in 1764. I have only a slight recollection of him. Of the two survivors, one, Christian Frederick Dagobert count de Waldner, is lieutenant-general and propriétaire of the Swiss regiment de Waldner.

The other, chevalier and afterwards commander of the Teutonic order, has been up to 1767

colonel of the regiment de Bouillon. He replaced my father in this post, and left to become colonel of the royal Swiss-German regiment. My father and I visited him in his garrison in June 1766. How beautiful was that regiment de Bouillon! What admirable discipline! what order! what daring courage! My father was enraptured, and my childish imagination deeply impressed. The soldiers and officers adored their former colonel, and paid me the most profound respect. I thought myself a personage of importance where I was so honoured by these moustached warriors, who always gave me a military salute. How magnificent my uncle seemed to me in his white coat with black facings, adorned with eight silver clasps (I have counted them; it was the act of a little girl), the collar, turned over, was also trimmed with silver lace à crépines. I was at that time only twelve years of age, but all these things still present themselves vividly to my mind. That which struck me most, as I have said, was the affection of the older officers for my father. The tenderness of their attachment resembled that of a lover for a mistress. The prince de Bouillon, propriétaire of the regiment, could not have been received with more distinction.

I remember nothing of my uncle Dagobert but his comical name. My brothers and I, when

children, could not cease to speak of it, and no sooner was his name mentioned than the unlucky song, with all its consequences, presented itself to our minds. My little brother Godfrey used to get into roars of laughter, for which we were both scolded, for I joined in them. A family tradition (I cannot vouch for its truth) was the cause of this odd name being introduced into our house. It is said that King Dagobert, master of the philosophic St. Eloi, became godfather, during his stay at Ruffach, to one of the ancient lords de Waldner. To perpetuate the remembrance of this honour, the name of Dagobert is found frequently inscribed on our genealogical tree. Whatever may be the truth of this tradition, certain it is that had the Almighty bestowed a son on me, I would not have given him this royal Christian name; I would have feared that it might be the cause of his sister's supping on dry bread, a punishment to which I was condemned more than once, in memory of this great king of the first race.

The castle of Schweighausen came into the possession of my ancestors on the extinction of a family that bore our name. It is situated on the route from Colmar to Belfort, a league to the south of Cernay, and a league and a half to the south-east of Thann, near an afflux of the Totter, or Dotter, a little river issuing from the mountains

of Vosges, between Alsace and Lorraine. The Totter passes through Masvaux or Masmunster, and falls into the Ill, a league above Malhause.

Schweighausen is a large square building, flanked on the north by a tower with a belfry. It is surrounded by a deep moat, constantly filled with running water, supplied by a little stream, and separated from a pretty pond by beautifully laidout gardens. The entrance is guarded by an oldfashioned bridge leading directly to the outer courtyard, which is surrounded by extensive out-offices.

To the west the land rises in a semicircular form, thickly planted with majestic trees. Thence one has a view of the whole chain of the Vosges, interspersed with many a mouldering ruin, and beneath in the valley rise the village spires and many "a fair abbaye." The whole forms a magic picture. Wooded hills ascend as if in regular gradations; the various shades of foliage, blending or contrasting, curtain the mountain side with a magnificent drapery. O Alsace ! my beloved country! nothing has ever been able to efface your remembrance from my heart-nothing is comparable to the splendour with which Nature decks herself in your woods and your valleys, your mountains and your streams. I can well conceive what ought to be the enthusiasm of her children for such a country, a country which offers every charm, and