e
purser. "What a set of impious scoundrels," ejaculated the midshipman. "I
am afraid," added I, "France has in a great measure brought all her
misfortunes on herself. If the King and the nobles had stood firm to their
guns and given a more liberal constitution, millions of lives might have
been saved, and we should not have had the supreme happiness of being
attended by the gendarmes or of taking up our abode in their filthy,
loathsome gaols, besides a thousand other circumstances, of which, as you
have been partakers, I need not mention, as they are too agreeable to bear
in memory." We reached a small place called Cateau Cambresis, where we
dined at a fourth-rate inn, formerly the country palace of the good
Archbishop Fenelon. At dinner, which, like the _auberge_, was also of the
fourth class, I had a silver fork with the armorial bearings of an
archbishop. I remarked the fact to my _maitre d'__hotel_, the doctor. "I
have a spoon with the same," replied he. "This, you are aware, was
Fenelon's favourite country palace, and as a quantity of family plate was
buried during the Revolution, these very likely belonged to him." When the
woman who attended us at dinner came in again, the doctor interrogated her
respecting them. She informed him they had been found among some old
rubbish in the yard. I asked her if she would sell them; she answered in
the affirmative, and demanded thirty francs. I gave her twenty-four, and
took possession of my prizes.

In a remote part of the building I found some Englishmen at work
manufacturing what the French were then little acquainted with, dimity.
They told me they had permission to sleep out of the prison, and that the
French allowed them a franc a day and some wine. I asked them if they were
working on their own account; they answered, no, but on that of the French
Government. "Bonaparte has his wits about him," said I to myself, "and
appears wide awake."

We reached Verdun on the sixth day. I waited on Captain Otter of the navy
and the senior officer, who introduced me to the commandant, the Baron de
Beauchene, who, by his rubicund face, appeared to be fond of good living.
My name was registered at the police office, where I was desired to sport
my graceful figure the first day of every month. Several officers did me
the honour of a visit, but as my news was like salted cod--rather
stale--they were not much edified. The day following I dined with Captain
and Mrs. Otter, who were good