The correspondence that passed between the parties on the subject is curious, and is given in the complete editions of our author’s works. He afterwards seemed to say that during his residence in England he had been subject to fits of insanity. Returning to France, Rousseau led an unsettled life, with frequent changes in his place of residence, until June, 1770. He then returned to Paris, and took lodgings in the Rue Plâtrière, which has since been called Rue J. J. Rousseau. It is to be noticed that in the interim he had published his ‘Dictionnaire de Musique,’ a work which has the reputation of being both imperfect and obscure. Indeed, notwithstanding his passionate fondness for the art, he never attained to a profound acquaintance with it. Passing through Lyons on his way to Paris, he subscribed his mite towards the erection of a statue to Voltaire: thus avenging himself for the coarse abuse which the latter had on many occasions poured upon him, and which Rousseau never returned. Voltaire is said to have been exceedingly annoyed at this. After his return to the capital, he was overwhelmed with visits and invitations to dinner. Though there was a prosecution pending against him for his ‘Emile,’ he was left undisturbed: but at the same time he was cautioned not to exhibit himself too conspicuously in public; advice which he utterly disregarded. He soon relapsed into his former misanthropy, and became subject to convulsive fits, which fearfully disfigured his features, and gave a haggard expression to his looks. He fancied that every body was conspiring against him, and he also complained of inward moral sufferings which tortured his mind. Among other imaginary grievances he thought that the French ministers had imposed restrictions upon him with respect to his writings. One of his friends applied to the Duc de Choiseuil to ascertain the fact. The Duke’s answer, dated 1772, is as follows: “If ever I have engaged M. Rousseau not to publish anything without my previous knowledge, of which fact however I have no remembrance, it could only have been in order to save him from fresh squabbles and annoyance. However, now that I have no longer the power of protecting him (the Duke had resigned his premiership), I fully acquit him of any engagement of the kind.” As Rousseau was walking one day in the street Menil Montant, a large dog that was running before the carriage of the President Saint Fargeau tripped his legs, and he fell. The President alighted, expressed his regret at the accident, and begged the sufferer to accept of his carriage to return home. Rousseau, however, refused. The next day the President sent to inquire after his health. “Tell your master to chain up his dog,” was the only reply.