a box on the ear, or sending a plate of
muffins across a table at poor me, than she does taking her tea.

Jemmy, I say, was very low in spirits; but, one day (I remember it was
the day after Captain Higgins called, and said he had seen the Baron at
Boulogne), she vowed that nothing but change of air would do her good,
and declared that she should die unless she went to the seaside in
France. I knew what this meant, and that I might as well attempt to
resist her as to resist her Gracious Majesty in Parliament assembled; so
I told the people to pack up the things, and took four places on board
the "Grand Turk" steamer for Boulogne.

The travelling-carriage, which, with Jemmy's thirty-seven boxes and my
carpet-bag, was pretty well loaded, was sent on board the night before;
and we, after breakfasting in Portland Place (little did I think it was
the--but, poh! never mind), went down to the Custom House in the other
carriage, followed by a hackney-coach and a cab, with the servants, and
fourteen bandboxes and trunks more, which were to be wanted by my dear
girl in the journey.

The road down Cheapside and Thames Street need not be described: we
saw the Monument, a memento of the wicked Popish massacre of St.
Bartholomew;--why erected here I can't think, as St. Bartholomew is in
Smithfield;--we had a glimpse of Billingsgate, and of the Mansion House,
where we saw the two-and-twenty-shilling-coal smoke coming out of
the chimneys, and were landed at the Custom House in safety. I felt
melancholy, for we were going among a people of swindlers, as all
Frenchmen are thought to be; and, besides not being able to speak the
language, leaving our own dear country and honest countrymen.

Fourteen porters came out, and each took a package with the greatest
civility; calling Jemmy her ladyship, and me your honor; ay, and your
honoring and my ladyshipping even my man and the maid in the cab. I
somehow felt all over quite melancholy at going away. "Here, my fine
fellow," says I to the coachman, who was standing very respectful,
holding his hat in one hand and Jemmy's jewel-case in the other--"Here,
my fine chap," says I, "here's six shillings for you;" for I did not
care for the money.

"Six what?" says he.

"Six shillings, fellow," shrieks Jemmy, "and twice as much as your
fare."

"Feller, marm!" says this insolent coachman. "Feller yourself, marm: do
you think I'm a-going to kill my horses, and break my precious back, and
bust my