ers
belonging to myself, I sailed that evening; and, as day was breaking, I
saw looming through the distance the tall and chalky cliffs of England.
We were a long way to the northward of the part usually frequented by
our skipper, and it was not without difficulty that I persuaded him to
land me in a small bay, in which a solitary cottage was the only sign of
habitation.

By noon I gained the hut of a fisherman, who, though he had seen me put
out from a craft that he knew to be French, yet neither expressed any
surprise at my appearance, nor thought it a matter for any questioning.
The shoal water and the breakers, it is true, could have prevented
the spot being selected as a landing-place for troops; but nothing was
easier than to use it to disembark either secret emissaries, or even a
small body of men. I walked from this to a small town about eight miles
inland, whence I started the same night by coach for London. I cannot
convey my notion of the sense of freedom I felt at wandering thus at
will, unquestioned by any one. Had I but travelled a dozen miles
in France, I should have been certain of encountering full as many
obstacles. Here none troubled their heads about me; and whence I came,
or whither I went, were not asked by any. Some, indeed, stared at my
travel-worn dress, and looked with surprise at my knapsack, covered with
undressed calf-skin; but none suspected that it was French, nor that
he who carried it had landed, but a few hours before, from the land of
their dread and abhorrence. In fact, the England and France of those
days were like countries widely separated by distance, and the narrow
strip of sea between them was accounted as a great ocean. No sooner
had I arrived in London than I inquired for the residence of the Prime
Minister. It was not a period when the Parliament was sitting. They told
me that I should rarely find him in town, but was sure of meeting with
him at Hounslow, where he had taken a house for his health, then much
broken by the cares and fatigues of office.

It was evening--a fine, mellow autumn evening--as I found myself in
front of a large, lonely house, in the midst of a neglected-looking
garden, the enclosure of which was a dilapidated wall, broken in many
places, and admitting glimpses of the disorder and decay within. I
pulled the string of the bell, but it was broken; and while I stood
uncertain what course to pursue, I caught sight of a man who was leaning
over a little ba