f private influence and
enterprise so striking to an Englishman in every French work. Then again
their sailors (not to say their landsmen) in very many instances do not
even know our English flag when they see it, our union-jack or ensign
flying free on every shore.
At first I used to carry the French flag as well as our British jack out
of compliment to their country, but as I found out that even in some of
their newspapers the Rob Roy was mentioned as a "beautiful little French
yacht," I determined that _that_ mistake at any rate should not be
fostered by me, so down came the tricolour, and my Cambridge Boat-club
flag took its place.
In one reach of the river we came upon a very unusual sight for a week
day, a French yacht sailing. Her flag was half-mast high, and she was
drifting down the stream, a helpless wreck. A distracted sort of man was
on board, and a lady, or womankind at least, with dishevelled locks
(carefully disordered though), the picture of wan weary wretchedness, and
both of these hapless ones entreated our captain to tow their little
yacht home. But, after a knowing glance, he quickly passed them in
silence, and another steamer behind us also rounded off so as to give the
unhappy pair the widest possible berth. Perhaps both captains preferred
English sovereigns to French francs.
I was charged about 3_l_. for being towed to Paris; but the various
steamers (six in all) I employed on the river were every one well
managed, and with civil people on board. Indeed, I became a favourite
with one captain's wife, a sturdy-looking body, always cutting up leaves
of lettuce. She gave me a basin of warm soup, and I presented her with
some good Yorkshire bacon. Next day she cooked some of this for me with
beans, and I returned the present by a packet of London tea, a book, a
picture of Napoleon, and another of "the Rob Roy on the Seine," in the
highest style of art attainable by a man steering all the time he is at
the easel.
From all this it will be readily understood by any one who has travelled
much in various ways that to be towed up the Seine is quite different
from all other modes of progress, and that it brings you among a large,
new, and sharply-defined class of people, who could scarcely be known,
and certainly could not be studied so well in any other way.
Nor is the traveller less interesting to these people than they are to
him. Often it was necessary to restrain the inquisitive French
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