lassitude of two
sleepless nights, wished, in my heart, I could have seen the effect of that
glorious sun-set from, the heights of Dover. Now and then, as when at
school, one feels a little home-sick; but the melancholy mood which then
possessed me was purely a physical effect from a physical cause. The
shadows of evening began to succeed to the glow of sun-set--when, starting
from my recumbent position, (in which sleep was beginning to surprise me) I
hastened down the heights, and by a nearer direction sought the town and
our hotel. We retired betimes to rest--but not until, from an opposite
coach maker, we had secured a phaeton-like carriage to convey us with post
horses, the next day, to Paris.

Excellent beds and undisturbed slumber put me in spirits for the grand
entree into the metropolis of France. Breakfasting a little after
nine--before ten, a pair of powerful black horses, one of which was
surmounted by a sprucely-attired postilion--with the phaeton in the
rear--were at the door of the hotel. Seeing all our baggage properly
secured, we sprung into the conveyance and darted forward at a smart
gallop. The animals seemed as if they could fly away with us--and the whip
of the postilion made innumerable circular flourishes above their heads.
The sky was beautifully clear: and a briskly-stirring, but not unpleasantly
penetrating, south-east wind, played in our faces as we seemed scarcely to
be sensible of the road. What a contrast to the heat, vexation, and general
uncomfortableness of the two preceding days of our journey! We felt it
sensibly, and enjoyed it in proportion. Our first place of halting, to
change horses, was at HOUDAN; which may be about four leagues from Dreux;
and I verily believe we reached it in an hour. The route thither is through
a flat and uninteresting country; except that every feature of landscape
(and more especially in our previous journeys through Normandy) seems to be
thrown to a greater distance, than in England. This may account for the
flatness of views, and the diminutiveness of objects. Houdan is a
village-like town, containing a population of about 2000 inhabitants; but
much business is done on market days; and of _corn_, in particular, I was
told that they often sold several thousand sacks in a day. Its contiguity
to Paris may account for the quantity of business done. In the outskirts of
the town,--and flanked, rather than surrounded, by two or three rows of
trees, of scarcely t