[5] Isaiah, xiv. 16, 17, 18, 20.

The willows are decaying fast, and one of them rests upon the sharp
spears of the railing, which are buried in its trunk--as though it were
comitting suicide for very grief! The foliage of the rest is thinned and
disfigured by the frequent and almost excusable depredations of
visiters. Fresh cuttings have however, been planted by the Governor, who
intends, moreover, to set cypresses round the outer fence. Madame
Bertrand's immortelles have proved, alas! mortal.

The fine, tall, old corporal, who came out from England with the
ex-emperor, was full of his praises: "I saw the General often," said the
old fellow; "he had an eye in his head like an eagle!" He described the
visit of the French pilgrims to this spot--their Kibla--as most
affecting. Some are extravagant beyond measure in their grief, falling
on their faces round the railing (which they never enter, as foreigners
do), praying, weeping, and even tearing their hair. Whilst we were
there, my friend of yesterday came towards the spot; but when he saw our
large, and, I fear me, rather unimpressed party, he turned upwards, and
disappeared. After inscribing our names in a book--into which also
appropriate poetry, as well as ribald nonsense finds its way--we drank
to Napoleon's immortal memory in his own favourite spring, and mounting
our steeds spurred towards Plantation House.

On the road, we passed within view of "the Briars," where the chief
resided during the building of Longwood; and where he,

"Whose game was kingdoms, and whose stakes were thrones!
His table earth, his dice were human bones!"