LITMIR.BIZ

      MISS WRAGGE BEING SPRINKLED WITH HOLY WATER (p. 78).

May 1821

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May 1st.—Being sufficiently recruited we recommenced our journey; our horses were tied with ropes, they looked quite wild; there were three in each carriage. Calais is surrounded with fortifications. It was very cold, disagreeable weather. Papa has a great aversion to east winds, and dislikes Tallantire on that account, so we expected that in France we should find a delightful climate; but alas! no sooner had we arrived there, than we found both east and north winds. About Calais was the ugliest country without exception I ever beheld; there was scarcely a tree to be seen, no hedgerows, no pretty cottages, everything looked dirty and miserable; there was a great deal of sand, and the country looked exactly like a desert: I thought that if this was a specimen of France, it was certainly a most charming place! We passed through La Chaussée, a scattered village which skirts the road for more than a mile; after ascending a hill we had a view of the sea, but the weather was so thick that we could not see Dover Cliffs. Our horses began to kick and seemed very restive, but on the driver's dismounting and calling to them in a curious voice they were soon quiet; after we had passed Wimille about a mile there was a succession of hills as far as Boulogne: on one of them we had a view of the town and the tower, which was commenced by Buonaparte to commemorate his intended victories over England. We entered the town by an avenue of trees; we met a procession in the Rue Grande in honour of the Duke of Bordeaux's baptism, which was that day to take place; it was a general fête throughout France. We stopt till the procession had passed. The principal things I remarked were the pioneers with their long beards and leather aprons, with hatchets over their shoulders. We went to the Hôtel Angleterre, Rue de l'Eau; it is kept by an Englishman of the name of Parker. We breakfasted on bouillon. Euphemia had been very unwell all day: she had no appetite; so we and Miss Wragge went out to buy some oranges for her; we asked several people, and enquired at a number of shops, but all in vain, and we began to despair: we, however, succeeded in getting some of an Englishman—he was the only person in the town who sold them; he told us that he got them from England and was obliged to pay a high duty; we only took four, as the smallest were four sous apiece. After leaving Boulogne the country was a little prettier; it had not that desert appearance that there was at the sea-coast. Before we reached Saumur we saw a woman riding like a man, wrong side before, on a horse, and a cow tied to the horse's tail; in some places we saw women ploughing. About Saumur it was rather pretty; there were rows of apple-trees on each side of the road, but on many of them there was scarcely a leaf; not any of the trees were so far out as they were in England. The country looks barren, as there are no hedges. The villages in France are also very ugly—there are no gardens before the houses, and instead of the lovely cottages we saw in Hertfordshire we here saw only dirty, untidy-looking houses; it was curious to see the astonishment of the servants, who imagined that they were to travel through bowers of grapes and groves of oranges. I was most disappointed at the weather, as I expected a delightful climate in France. After we had passed Saumur we entered the forest of Longvilliers; we saw some large lilac periwinkles in the hedge.[8] We reached Montreuil in the evening; there is a very steep ascent to the town; it is supposed to be nearly impregnable. We went to Varennes, Hotel de la Cour de France; it was a tolerably clean and civil inn. They told us there was to be a grand illumination on account of the fête; they begged to put some lights in our windows, and stuck two or three candles in. The servants went out to see the balls and illuminations: they said that there were very few lights, and that they saw some ladies going to the ball, but that, as for the dance on the green, it was so dark they could hardly see, but the people appeared to be in their working dresses; that there was one fiddler; that first one person got up and ran across the green, and then another; but it was nothing like dancing. At this hotel we first saw the curious French beds; they consist of a pole in the wall with the end gilt, over this is thrown a curtain; sometimes instead of the pole there is an octagon; the beds are very uncomfortable, and the curtains slip over one's face. The basons are like pie-dishes.

      A FRENCH WOMAN AND CHILD

      A FRENCH BOY AND GIRL, EATING, AT THE DOOR

      May 2nd.—It was a cold, disagreeable, rainy morning when we left Montreuil; the country

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