The hour named would seem to indicate that darkness was upon the face of the deep. But not so; light abounded: not that of noonday, but that of early eve, when the sun had withdrawn his glowing face. Then it was we met. Iceberg was silent; I too was silent. I stood in the presence of God's work! Its fashioning was that of the Great Architect! He who hath builded such monuments, and cast them forth upon the waters of the sea, is God, and there can be none other!

On another occasion Captain Hall writes :"The icebergs were numerous, and many of them deeply interesting-one especially so, from its vast height and odd-shape. I say 'odd,' though that applies to all bergs, for no two are alike, nor does any one seem long to retain the same appearance and position.

"Of the various bergs I particularly noticed, a few descriptive words may here be said. The first view of one that attracted my attention looked as if an old castle was before me. The ruins of a lofty dome about to fall, and a portion of an arched roof already tumbling down, were conspicuous. Then, in a short time, this changed to a picture of an elephant with two large circular towers on his back, and Corinthian spires springing out boldly from the broken mountains of alabaster on which he had placed his feet. The third view, when at a

greater distance, made it like a lighthouse on the top of piled-up rocks, white as the driven snow. It took no great stretch of fancy to finish the similitude when the sun to-day, for nearly the first time during the week, burst forth in all its splendour, bathing with its flood of golden fire this towering iceberg lighthouse!

"Another berg I could not help calling the Gothic iceberg. The side facing me had a row of complete arches of the true Gothic order, and running its whole length were mouldings, smooth projections of solid ice, rivalling in the beauty of all their parts anything I ever saw. The architecture, frieze, and cornice of each column supporting the arches above were as chaste and accurately represented as the most imaginative genius could conceive. Here and there I saw matchless perfection displayed in the curvature of lines about some of its ornamental parts. Springing out from a rude recess, away up in its vast height, I saw a delicate scroll, which was quite in keeping with Hogarth's 'line of beauty.'

"As I was gazing upon one of the many bergs we passed, it overturned, and burst into a thousand fragments!

"Relative to the formation of these icebergs, Sterry-upon whose authority alone I mention it, and who is entitled to his own theory upon the subject-told me that, at a place between two mountains in Northumberland Sound, he once counted something like a hundred strata of ice that had been deposited, one layer each year. They were of various thicknesses, each course marked by a deposit of sediment like dirt. He did not complete counting the number of layers, as the height would not admit of his doing so."

HE lovers of exciting literature have not failed to find ample material in delineating the uninvestigated tortures of the Bastille. The fearful walls forbade approach to every witness, and thus the imagination remained free to conjure up the most dreadful pictures.

The only authentic documents are those from the Hôtel des Archives, which were collected and brought to a place of safety immediately

after the storming of the Bastille. These consisted of from four to five hundred manuscripts, signed by the Lieutenants of the prison. The first entire existing document bears the date of the year 1602. It relates to the captivity of a Comte de Biron. Other manuscripts, dated 1617 and 1643, mention Louis XIII. The intervening years from this time to 1660 are passed over in silence.

From the mass of succeeding manuscripts,

we shall only attempt to glean information respecting two or three special cases which will serve as examples of the rest.

In 1669 an order appears for the imprisonment of a lady, Helena de Latours, a native of Florence, accused of conspiring against the king. Amongst the papers, one letter read as follows:

"My dear child,

"My death-sentence has just been announced to me. I do not fear to die, but I may well be alarmed by the thought that you, beloved one, will be so dreadfully affected by the sorrowful news, that your precious life may also be in danger. The hand of God lies heavy upon me, not because death calls me away, but because it separates me from you. Farewell! "If I might but press my lips on yours! Kiss these lines, and thus you will kiss the hand which wrote them, and the heart which beats for you.

66 Farewell for ever! "From my prison, Friday, Sept. 7, 1669,"

The signature is wanting, As no remarks are registered about the sojourn of the prisoner, it appears probable that this was one of the mysterious murders of which the Bastille afforded so many instances.

One of the most fearful acts of violence reported in the documents refers to Catherine Pelissier, a maid-servant. On March 17, 1685, she was sent to the Bastille because she had expressed a wish that she might hear "that three distinguished knights had conspired against the king." Without any investigation, the unhappy woman was seized, and thrown into the prison. Accusation and judgment are entered at the same time: no day of release is given: so that there is no doubt she was one of those lamentable victims whose existence was completely forgotten, and finally perished her dungeon.

The year 1690 brought the most remarkable prisoner to the Bastille who ever languished within its walls. This was "the man with the iron mask."

Volumes have been written with the view of identifying the personality of this prisoner, but the mystery remains. The facts appear to be these: The prisoner was brought to the Bastille from Margaret Island, under the charge of the then governor, Le Comte St. Mars. He was dressed in the finest linen, and wore the most splendid clothes. He played on the guitar, was slender and tall, and spoke French with an Italian accent. During his imprisonment, he always wore a black velvet mask, with iron springs across the

mouth, and provided behind with a padlock. His hands were said to be beautiful. He was in the full vigour of manhood, but a few white hairs showed themselves from beneath the mask. He died in 1703,

For many years the literary world busied itself with conjectures about this prisoner. At length, in the year 1789, when the Bastille was taken and destroyed, it was thought the mystery must unravel itself, A soldier discovered among the heap of ruins the Register of the prison. The packets of paper were opened, but the folio leaf referring to the arrival of the masked prisoner from Margaret Island had been taken away and replaced by a newly written one!

In this leaf the name of the State Secretary, and the reason for imprisonment, are omitted. It is stated of the prisoner that “he was the man in the mask, whom no one knew;" that "he died November 19, 1703, being about 45 years old;" that "he was buried at S. Paul's," that, not including his burial day, he spent five years and sixty-two days in the Bastille,"

and

The Church Registers of S. Paul's were immediately examined, and fresh conjectures made but not to occupy further space, it may suffice to say, that, bearing in mind especially the evident purpose of the mask, to conceal the features of the prisoner, and the profound silence preserved by the sovereign of France, there is at least a strong probability in favour of the supposition that he was a brother of Louis XIV.

During the captivity of "the man with the iron mask," in the year 1702, Constantine de Renneville was imprisoned in the Bastille. Political causes no doubt were the ground of his incarceration. He attributed it himself to some satirical poems which he had composed -an extraordinary offence to be followed by an imprisonment of almost twelve years' duration!

Renneville endured terrible privations. He writes: "The governor suffered me to pine away for a long while, without straw, without a stone to rest my head on, dwelling mid the filth of the prison, with bread and water for my food. My eyes almost started from my head, my teeth fell out from scurvy, my mouth swelled, and the bones pierced my skin in several places."

This prisoner had to make acquaintance with every dungeon in the Bastille, and languished some time in each. He was not permitted to change his linen for five months, although he

saw the turnkey going about wearing the shirts that had been taken from him.

After he was set at liberty, he wrote a work in Amsterdam, in which he details the history of many other prisoners, inspiring the utmost horror in the reader's mind. On the issue of the second edition of the work in 1724, he mysteriously disappeared, and was never heard of again. Most probably the Bastille once more received him, and he was numbered amongst the many-captives in the Register, of whom it is written-" grounds for arrest unknown."

A great increase of prisoners worthy of all pity, arose from the imprisonment in the Bastille of many Protestants, after the retraction of the Edict of Nantes. But, passing by these and other cases of hardship and suffering wrongly inflicted, our last example of the terrors of the Bastille shall be that of Henri Mazere von Latude.

Latude came to Paris in 1749. He was a remarkably handsome man, ardent and enthusiastic in temperament, his head full of aspiring plans and schemes for attaining a high position for himself. He was one day an unseen auditor of a conversation between two men in the gardens of the Tuileries. They were discoursing about the Marchioness de Pompadour, and speaking of her in the most insulting terms. This conversation inspired Latude with the thought that he might become the benevolent and protecting knight of the injured lady. His plan to secure an introduction and further his design is not very easily comprehended, and certainly appears to indicate a strange mixture of cleverness and folly, as well as a lack of principle. It seems that he prepared a powder of salt and sugar, placed it in an envelope, directed it to the Marchioness, at Versailles, and posted it. Before the letter arrived, he went in person to Versailles, and requested an audience of the Marchioness. He then told her that he had overheard a conversation, and understood through it that a plot was formed to dispatch the detested favourite by means of a fearful powder, the mere vapour of which would operate in a deadly manner. This powder, he said, the conspirators proposed to enclose in a letter, and send it to her by post.

Madame de Pompadour knew very well that she was the object of universal hatred, and the design of poisoning did not appear at all an unlikely one. Greatly excited, she overwhelmed Latude with thanks, and offered him

a purse of money, This he declined to receive, but, at the request of the Marchioness, he wrote down his name and address, in order that he might be rewarded by her in a manner befitting his rank. No doubt as he left Versailles he regarded himself as if already in possession of title and fortune. So soon as the powder reached its destination and was—as he of course expected it would be-instantly destroyed to avoid peril, he anticipated a gracious message from the Marchioness.

The so-called murderous letter duly arrived. It was opened with all caution, and to the horror of the Marchioness, the powder was found! It was on the point of being destroyed, when a bystander requested that the effect of it should be first tried upon animals. A cat and a dog ate some of it, but remained in perfect health! The Marchioness was puzzled. Suddenly her glance fell upon the address of the letter; she compared the handwriting with that of Latude, giving his name and address, which was lying before her, and immediately recognized the resemblance. Instantly the whole plan of Latude was revealed, and almost before the mystified man could arouse himself from his splendid dreams of honour and wealth, he sat already in the Bastille!

At his trial, Latude confessed freely and openly what his intention had been. Lieutenant Berryer was touched by his confession, and caused it to be made known to the Marchioness; but contrary to all expectation, she decreed the most rigorous confinement for him.

After an imprisonment of eighteen months, Latude began to think of the possibilities of escape. He succeeded in a marvellous manner in leaving the Bastille unperceived by any of the sentinels, by passing slowly before them all. He then established himself in Paris, and with almost incredible folly, wrote to the king, announcing to him his flight, and entreating his pardon! A fortnight after he again sat in the Bastille.

He was now promised freedom if he would make known by what means his flight had been accomplished, in order to render escape impossible to prisoners in after-times. He gave the information, but, alas for truth in the Bastille! from that time he was placed in still stricter confinement.

There were very few men like Berryer in the Bastille, and after a period he mitigated the restraints of Latude, and provided him with a companion named Alêgre. To him Latude