Among the archives of the municipality at Vevay are a few notices respecting General Ludlow. He was under constant apprehension of assassination, and by way of protection he was allowed, if necessary, to ring a large bell, suspended in an old tower, since pulled down, which stood on the edge of the lake, at the south-east corner of the market-place, and which was his first habitation at Vevay. His last abode was the house adjoining the eastern gate of the town, which is still in perfect preservation, and well known as Ludlow's residence. Until within the last few years the original inscription remained over the door; it was carved on wood in the form of a scroll, and was given by the present possessor of the mansion to an Englishman travelling through Vevay, who represented himself as a descendant of Ludlow. Permission was accorded him by the government at Berne to erect a small guardhouse in front of the house, in the lake, to watch any boat coming from Savoy; one attempt was made upon his person, as he was coming out of the church in which his ashes now repose, but was frustrated by the authorities of the town surrounding and protecting him. The permissions to ring the bell and to build the guard-house are recorded in the archives. There is also some memorandum relating to “Madame la Genérale Ludlow,” after his decease. On the 6th of June, 1832, having obtained the obliging permission of the syndic to search the records, I proceeded to their examination. One of the conseil d'etat, and the secretary, whose name was Demontel, attended me; unfortunately there was no index, and the person belonging to the establishment, said to be the only man capable of laying his hand upon anything required, happened to be absent at Orbe. So I was left to hunt along the margin for the name of Ludlow,—a tedious and somewhat unprofitable task, for I could not find all I wanted. I have a friend here, at Lausanne, who has engaged to furnish me with some particulars respecting the investigations that followed the assassination of Lisle, in the Place St. François. It would be satisfactory to discover some remnant of the papers and correspondence of the regicides, but none are known to exist, and Ludlow's widow no doubt carried off all his literary remains when she left his mortal remains in the church of St. Martin. The epitaph she put up to him is well known: so are those of Broughton and Love. Interment in the church is no longer permitted, so the old Parliamentarians are likely to have it all to themselves, and to lie there undisturbed until the “crack of Doom,” for we can hardly calculate upon churches being pulled down, and the dead pulled up, in this tranquil, neutralised, unchanging country.