-What luck!-'tis chopped about again, master.
-O, the devil chop it!-

Captain, quoth she, for Heaven's sake, let us get

ashore.

CHAPTER CCIV.

It is a great inconvenience to a man in a haste, that there are three distinct roads between Calais and Paris; in behalf of which, there is so much to be said by the several deputies from the towns which lie along them, that half a day is easily lost in settling which you'll take.

First, the road by Lisle and Arras, which is the most about, but most interesting and instructing :The second, that by Amiens, which you may go, if you would see Chantilly:

And that by Beauvais, which you may go if you will.

For this reason a great many choose to go by Beauvais.

CHAPTER CCV.

Now, before I quit Calais,' a travel-writer would say, it would not be amiss to give some account of it.'-Now I think it very much amiss, that a man cannot go quietly through a town and let it alone, when it does not meddle with him, but that he must be turning about and drawing his pen at every kennel he crosses over, merely, o' my conscience, for the sake of drawing it; because, if we may judge from what has been wrote of these things, by all who have wrote and galloped, or who have galloped and wrote, which is a different way still; or who, for more expedition than the rest, have wrote galloping,-which is the way I do at present,-from the great Addison,

who did it with his satchel of school-books hanging at his and galling his beast's crupper at every stroke; there is not a galloper of us all, who might not have gone on ambling quietly on his own ground (in case he had any), and have wrote all he had to write, dry-shod, as well as not.

For my own part, as Heaven is my judge, and to which I shall ever make my last appeal,-I know no more of Calais (except the little my barber told me of it as he was whetting his razor) than I do this moment of Grand Cairo; for it was dusky in the evening when I landed, and dark as pitch in the morning when I set out; and yet, by merely knowing what is what, and by drawing this from that in one part of the town, and by spelling and putting this and that together in another, I would lay any travelling odds, that I this moment write a chapter upon Calais as long as my arm; and with so distinct and satisfactory a detail of every item which is worth a stranger's curiosity in the town, that you would take me for the town-clerk of Calais itself;-and where, sir, would be the wonder? Was not Democritus, who laughed ten times more than I,-town-clerk of Abdera? and was not (I forget his name) who had more discretion than us both, town-clerk of Ephesus? It should be penned, moreover, sir, with so much knowledge, and good sense, and truth, and precision,

-Nay, if you don't believe me, you may read the chapter for your pains.

CHAPTER CCVI.

Calais, Calatium, Calusium, Calesium.

The town, if we may trust its archives, the authority of which I see no reason to call in question in this place, was once no more than a small village, belonging to one of the first Counts de Guignes; and as

it boasts at present of no less than fourteen thousand inhabitants, exclusive of four hundred and twenty distinct families in the basse ville, or suburbs,-it must have grown up, by little and little, I suppose, to its present size.

Though there are four convents, there is but one parochial church in the whole town. I had not an opportunity of taking its exact dimensions, but it is pretty easy to make a tolerable conjecture of them ;for as there are fourteen thousand inhabitants in the town, if the church holds them all, it must be considerably large;-and if it will not,-'tis a very great pity they have not another.-It is built in form of a cross, and dedicated to the Virgin Mary; the steeple, which has a spire to it, is placed in the middle of the church, and stands upon four pillars, elegant and light enough, but sufficiently strong at the same time. It is decorated with eleven altars, most of which are rather fine than beautiful. The great altar is a master-piece in its kind; 'tis of white marble, and, as I was told, near sixty feet high :—had it been much higher, it had been as high as Mount Calvary itself; -therefore, I suppose it must be high enough in all conscience.

There was nothing struck me more than the great square, though I cannot say 'tis either well paved or well built; but 'tis in the heart of the town; and most of the streets, especially those in that quarter, terminate in it. Could there have been a fountain in all Calais, which it seems there cannot, as such an object would have been a great ornament, it is not to be doubted but that the inhabitants would have had it in the very centre of this square ;-not that it is properly a square,—because 'tis forty feet longer from east to west than from north to south; so that the French in general have more reason on their side in calling them Places than Squares, which, strictly speaking, to be sure, they are not.

The town-house seems to be but a sorry building, and not to be kept in the best repair; otherwise it had been a second great ornament to this place: it answers, however, its destination, and serves very well for the reception of the magistrates, who assemble in it from time to time; so that 'tis presumable, justice is regularly distributed.

I had heard much of it, but there is nothing at all curious in the Courgain: 'tis a distinct quarter of the town, inhabited solely by sailors and fishermen; it consists of a number of small streets, neatly built, and mostly of brick. 'Tis extremely populous; but as that may be accounted for from the principles of their diet, there is nothing curious in that neither.-A traveller may see it to satisfy himself:-he must not omit, however, taking notice of La Tour de Guet, upon any account; 'tis so called from its particular destination; because in war it serves to discover and give notice of the enemies which approach the place, either by sea or land;-but 'tis monstrous high, and catches the eye so continually, you cannot avoid taking notice of it if you would.

It was a singular disappointment to me, that I could not have permission to take an exact survey of the fortifications, which are the strongest in the world; and which, from first to last, that is, from the time they were set about by Philip of France, count of Boulogne, to the present war, wherein many reparations were made, have cost (as I learned afterwards from an engineer in Gascony)-above a hundred millions of livres.

-It is very remarkable, that at the Tête de Gravelenes, and where the town is naturally the weakest, they have expended the most money; so that the outworks stretch a great way into the campaign, and consequently occupy a large track of ground. However, after all that is said and done, it must be acknowledged that Calais was never upon any account so considerable from itself, as from its situation, and that easy en

trance which it gave our ancestors, upon all occasions, into France: it was not without its inconveniences also; being no less troublesome to the English in those times, than Dunkirk has been to us in ours; so that it was deservedly looked upon as the key to both kingdoms; which, no doubt, is the reason that there have arisen so many contentions who should keep it of these, the siege of Calais, or rather the blockade, (for it was shut up both by land and sea) was the most memorable, as it withstood the efforts of Edward the Third a whole year, and was not terminated at last, but by famine and extreme misery: the gallantry of Eustace de St. Pierre, who first offered himself a victim for his fellow-citizens, has ranked his name with heroes. As it will not take up above fifty pages, it would be injustice to the reader, not to give him a minute account of that romantic transaction, as well as of the siege itself, in Rapin's own words :

CHAPTER CCVII.

-But, courage, gentle reader !—I scorn it :-'tis enough to have thee in my power;-but to make use of the advantage which the fortune of the pen has now gained over thee, would be too much.-No!-by that all-powerful fire which warms the visionary brain, and lights the spirits through unworldly tracts! ere I would force a helpless creature upon this hard service, and make thee pay, poor soul! for fifty pages, which I have no right to sell thee,-naked as I am, I would browse upon the mountains, and smile that the north wind brought me neither my tent nor my supper.

So put on, my brave boy! and make the best of thy way to Boulogne.