land; and I feel happy in offering them at the present moment, not only to prove to the gallant Pole I have not neglected his wishes, although some time has elapsed, but also that I think they bear an intrinsic interest as historical documents. I had the pleasure of his friendship during my residence in Paris on the first entry of the Al

Feb. 28, 1823.

DOUGLAS GUEST.

AFTER the splendid quarto volumes of titled travellers in the various countries of Europe, the very mention of a sober journey from London to Paris, in the depth of winter, when there is no sun to warm the imagination and give fertility to invention, will, perhaps, be sufficient to forbid general attention to the following pages.

As there are thousands, however, whose carthly peregrinations reach no farther than from Bow Church to Notre Dame, and not a few who consider a trip from Margate to Calais, with one day's dinner at the table d'hote at Meurice's, more than sufficient to introduce them to gen teel society, as men who have seen the world, and are qualified for the Traveller's Club in Regent-street; my tour is not unlikely to be read, and, conceit would say, admired.

Every body knows or ought to know, which is the same thing, that Chaplin's coach leaves the Spread Eagle in Gracechurch-street in the morning, and after a tedious journey arrives at Dover in the evening. There is nothing new in this information, and it will be as little news to say, that the coachmen and the guards on the Dover road are like the coachmen and guards on other roads, very fat, very silly, and very uncivil. I believe it is pretty generally known, that the road to Dover is through Rochester and Canterbury, and some other towns. There are some people, perhaps, who would go by another road, like the man who wished to go to Hastings and took his place in the coach to Lancaster, but as this is a mere

matter of taste, and as every man in England has a right to please himself in his own way, public example always considered, we will first put an end to supposition on this subject; and taking a very short road, in which we avoid all tiresome repetitions about coaches and coachmen, inns and innkeepers, and guards and blackguards, fancy ourselves driven to the King's Head Inn in Dover, and safely lodged in Young Podevin's coffee room, ordering rump steaks and potatoes, a good fire, and a glass or two of what the French call Vin de Porto. The night is passed at Dover; the next morning is taken up with reflections about impositions and dread of seasickness, and the next evening, after having been tossed about and medicinally agitated, without and within, in the thing called a steam-boat, which engineers tell us goes forward without motion, we are landed at Calais upon fishermen's backs for want of water in the harbour.

Now let us suppose that we are in the Hotel de Bourbon, kept by Mr. Rignolles; who, from the humble station of a barber in London, has raised himself to the dignity of an innkeeper in Calais, providing food and lodging, attention and civility, for milords Anglais, at the moderate charge of 500 per cent. upon prime cost, which is full 3 per cent. under the en conscience, at Mr. Meurice's. Gentle reader, hitherto we have gone hand in hand-you have travelled with me to Dover-sailed with me to Calais-like me rendered tribute to the vasty deep, and landed with me on the pier, at that vene

rable spot where the large brass foot commemorates the restoration of that good, fat, jolly-looking Louis XVIII. who so nearly killed himself with a surfeit; but the newest as well as the oldest acquaintances must part. We have travelled together to Calais in imagination; it was a quick mode of travelling, and I did you the favour of including you in my passport; but we are to meet no more. You may suppose yourself still at the Hotel de Bourbon, if you please, but not an inch farther do you penetrate with me into the French territory. We travelled together comfortably to Calais, but I must proceed alone to Paris.

Having, for the sake of regularity, assumed the first person, I shail now inform the reader, that after paying the bill at the inn, and giving a hearty god-dam to the custom-house officers, police clerks, and commissioners, who are all of a kidney, I stept into that tremendous machine called a diligence, and proceeded to Boulogne. Gentle reader, fancy yourself with me in this Paradise of the English-this refuge of blacklegs, bankrupts, demireps, and decayed baronets. Come with me to the Hotel de Londres the best inn in Europe, where we have a delightful coal fire, and dine en seigneur at 4 francs a head. Now we are seated at dinner, and François, the waiter, who has served in the Grande Armée, is serving up the woodcocks. Ask François about the scandal of the place. The prudent dog shrugs up his shoulders we know what he means, and admire his precaution. François is like the man at the show-all things to all men; but now we have dined, come with me into the streets, we shall meet some of the refugees, and as I know them nearly all, you shall have their por traits.

Bless my soul, who is that pretty English woman in the cassimere shawl? That is Mrs. B, Parson B's lady, and the tall gentleman at her heels is a gallant colonel who fought a duel with her husband. The good parson, fancying that the colonel and his lady were on terms of too great intimacy, watched them into a house, and then sent a message to his lady, by way of intimating that he knew her

secret, but very considerately offered no interruption to the tete à tete. The parson, however, though he cared little, as it seems, about preserving his wife's virtue, being a man of honour challenged the colonel. They met, and the parson fired. The colonel refused to return the fire, and the antagonists separated; honour and justice were satisfied; but the offence was soon afterwards repeated, and a friend of the parson wishing to preserve the character of the cloth became his champion. The colonel, who as luckily escaped the fire of the deputy as he had done that of the principal, refused to fire in return, and they separated. What could now be done? The parson took the advice of his friends, and placed the lady upon a separate allowance. He is in England, and she is here, you see, under the protection of her gallant colonel; but I forgot the best of the joke. Two months before the eclaircissement, the parson was at Dover on a visit to an acquaintance; one afternoon a gentleman, recently from Boulogne, called at the house where the parson was staying. Binquired the news of Boulogne, the gentleman who did not know him, replied "There is no particular news, the scandal of the place when I left was that parson B's wife was quite happy with colonel K. whilst her good husband was fancying her miserable at his absence.". The poor parson was struck with wonder. The next day he left Dover for Boulogne, and soon learned that his informant's news was authentic.

You see that lady turning the corner, it is Mrs. St. who has one of the best natured husbands in the world. I shall say no more about her. Yonder is the knight who came out of the whale's belly, or, in other words, whose name is very much like that of the prophet who came out of it. Every body knows how he served the pawnbroker who held his plate, previous to his departure from Ireland. The knight invited a large party to dinner, and amongst them the pawnbroker, who consented to lend the plate on condition of its not being taken out of his sight. Two to one, as the elegantes of Tothil-fields call a pawnbroker, was delighted to find

himself among lords and barons, and by no means uneasy about the plate, which was constantly before his eyes; but the knight was too keen for the money lender, and so effectually plied him with wine that, in an hour or two, he was senseless. Whilst he lay on the ground like a pig, the knight's servants packed up the plate, and sent it forward to Boulogne; and, on the next day, the knight followed it.

That is the house where the man lived who had a rencontre with his servant. Whilst the servant lay upon the ground weltering in his blood the master's friends were busy in getting him into a carriage; but he refused to go before the washerwoman brought home his collars. He was at length persuaded to go, with an assurance that his collars should be sent after him to Calais. When he got there he wrote a letter to his friend, Parson M, declaring that he would not budge without his collars; and, although the life of the servant was despaired of effectivement, as the French have it, he remained at Calais until his collars reached him. But I shall waste all my time upon the English in Boulogne instead of getting into Paris. Good bye; and now let me soberly abjure scandal, and offer myself as a new and sure guide to the Englishman visiting the Continent. After having paid my bill at the Hôtel de Londres, which, considering the hotel is the best in Boulogne, was very moderate, I took my place for Abbeville.

The distance from Boulogne to Abbeville is about fifty English miles. The diligence leaves Boulogne at about one o'clock in the day, and arrives generally at about ten o'clock at night. Abbeville is a large dirty French town with a few manufactories, which are by no means in a flourishing condition.

Several English families are resi dent there, and a great number of English youths of both sexes are placed in academies at Abbeville for their education. The inhabitants are for the most part a very worthy set of people, fond of the English, and anxious to imitate them in the various domestic duties for which our nation is remarkable. The principal hotel in Abbeville is the Tete de Bœuf, or, as it is also called, the Hôtel d'Angleterre. Like most hotels in France which aspire to the preference of the English, the Tete de Bouf is by no means celebrated for low charges. The regular diligence continues its route to Paris, after supping at Abbeville; but a great many travellers prefer sleeping on the road, and stop there. After taking a comfortable night's sleep, the journey may be continued on the following morning, by one of these routes-Amiens, Dieppe, or by Neufchatel to Rouen.

As these roads are very little known to the English, I shall state the particulars respecting them. The coach to Rouen by Neufchatel has been very recently established: it leaves Abbeville between five and six o'clock in the morning, and arrives in Rouen at seven o'clock in the evening. The fare is only nine francs. On arriving at Rouen the traveller may, if he pleases, proceed to Paris the same evening, or the next morning. The fare is 15 francs from Rouen to Paris. There are several very good inns at Rouen. One of the best is the Hôtel Vatel, in the Rue des Carmes, near the cathedral. As there is a very excellent theatre in Rouen, I recommend every Englishman who stops a night at Rouen to visit it. The coach to Amiens leaves Abbeville in the morning at seven o'clock,' and reaches Amiens at twelve. The fare,including conductor and postil

lion, is only 4 francs and 16 sous. A diligence leaves Amiens in the evening at 5 o'clock for Paris, and arrives at eight on the following morning. The fare is 15 francs; but if the traveller wishes, during the journey from Calais to Paris, to sleep on the road, he must take the malle poste (mail coach) from Amiens to Clermont, a distance of about forty miles. The malle poste leaves Amiens at two o'clock, two hours after the arrival of the coach from Abbeville, and reaches Clermont at nine in the evening, or earlier if the roads are good. The fare is. 12 francs 13 sous. On the following morning a diligence leaves, Clermont for Paris between six and seven o'clock, and arrives in Paris at three. The fare is only 6 francs, the conductor not included; he expects another franc. The Hôtel de la Poste at Amiens, where the coach from Abbeville stops, is a very good one-so is the Hôtel de Epée at Clermont, where the malle poste stops, and from whence the coach to Paris sets out.

At Amiens there are several things worth seeing, particularly the Weeping Boy in the cathedral, which is one of the finest pieces of sculpture in France. At Clermont, nothing is lost by arriving at night, and setting out very early in the morning. The coach to Dieppe leaves Abbeville at about one o'clock in the day, and arrives at Dieppe in the evening. The fare is 6 francs, including all charges. As there is not one hotel in Dieppe which I would recommend, the reader will excuse my saying more than this -the coach stops at the Hôtel de Londres, at which house, for a single night, the traveller may perhaps be as well as at either of the others. The diligence to Rouen leaves Dieppe at ten o'clock in the morning, and arrives in Rouen at three o'clock in the afternoon. The fare is 7 francs.

I shall now give a scale of the travelling expenses from Calais to Paris by the four modes, viz. direct by Amiens, by Dieppe, and by Neufchatel. There are three conveyances to Paris from Calais direct. The grande diligence, the Hirondelle coach, and the malle poste. former leaves Calais morning and evening, and is about thirty-two Eur. Mag. March, 1823.

The

or thirty-three hours on the road. The latter leaves late at night, and is twenty-seven or twenty-eight hours. The fares by the first two are alike-40 francs; by the malle poste the charge throughout France is at the rate of 30 sous per post of two leagues. As there are thirtyfour posts from Calais to Paris, the charge is 51 francs; but no other luggage than a travelling bag is. allowed by this conveyance.

From Calais to Paris by the di-
ligence
Conductor and postillions
Expenses on the road

....

Fr.

40 8

14

Neufchatel ... From Rouen to Paris Dinner at Boulogne... Inn bill at Abbeville Ditto at Rouen and on the road 12 Conductors

In this, three days are necessary; sleeping one night at Abbeville, and one night at Clermont.

The road by Dieppe is about sixty miles farther than direct to Paris, and can only be recommended to persons who have business in Dieppe, or who wish to see the beautiful country between that place and Rouen, which is the finest in France. Those who travel for pleasure will take great interest in this route; if, however, they are able to hear the imperative long sea voyage from Brighton to Dieppe. They have nothing to see on the Calais Road, which is the most dreary in Europe. The route by Neufchatel is also much longer than the direct one, but by no means so long as by Dieppe. By Amiens the difference is very trifling, about four or five leagues only.

My last journey was by Amiens and Clermont, and my expenses were something under the scale given in this article. When once away from the direct road frequented by the English, the charges are by no means high. At Clermont, where I slept and took coffee at night and breakfast in the morning, my Inn bill was as follows.

Coffee and bread and butter at night

Bed

Breakfast

Sous.

12 1 10

16

Fr. 2 18

a person who will content himself with one copious dish and the ordinary wine, and do without coffee, may dine very well for 34 sous or 16d. English. The same mode is adopted by Frenchmen as to breakfast. Instead of ordering a regular service of coffee, &c. they call for a bolle de cafe; which is a good sized basin full, with bread and butter. The charge is coffee and bread 12 sous, butter, 2 sous; or, in some places, 4 sous. If eggs are ordered they are charged three sous each; thus, instead of paying 2 francs for a breakfast, the expense is only 22 sous, or, according to the general charge, 20 sous, which is just one half. An Englishman's travelling expenses in France are usually 15 or 20 francs a day, or if he is economical in his own way about 12 francs. A Frenchman will live better, or at least quite as well, for 6 francs. In the south of France a Frenchman will travel at one thirdof the expense which falls upon an Englishman, who is ignorant of the proper modes; because in that part of France the regular charges at the Inns are lower than those of other parts, whilst the charges to the English are higher than those in Picardy and Normandy.

Before I left smoky, dirty, but to an Englishman, still dear London, I heard much of the clear air and serene sky of Paris, and was full of anticipation. The sun always shines at Paris, said the little deputy of Cripplegate Ward, who, with his wife and two overgrown daughters, had taken a trip to the Capital in the beautiful month of August. It is never cold in Paris, said my frenchified uncle, who had resided a winter there in one of those mild years which now and then revolve, and when there is no severe weather even in England. With what delight did I enter this place on a fine warm day in the early part of November. The sky too was cloudless, the wood-smoke rose rapidly from the chimnies, and in an instant was lost in hydrogen or pure ether. The people in the streets, inhaling the pure atmosphere as they walked along, seemed to me as full of fun and frolic as Dr. Thornton's pupils after inhaling his nitrous oxide. The deputy was right-my uncle.