mber. The general fuel of the lower orders
is _turf_, which, however, is not in any great quantity; and in
appearance it is inferior to that used by the Irish peasants. The roads
are in general kept in good repair, and near Paris and some other great
towns they are paved in the centre. They are flanked in many places by
avenues of trees, which are for the most part cut with great formality;
but even where left to themselves, they do not add much to the ornament
of the country or to the comfort of the traveller, affording but a
scanty shade.

The whole of this road is without turnpikes; they were, as I understood,
abolished about three years ago, and the roads are now managed by the
government. The French praise Buonaparte extremely for his attention to
the state of their _roads_, and it must be owned that in this
particular he merits the praise bestowed on him, which cannot be said
with truth of many other parts of his conduct which seem to have been
also approved of by the French. Buonaparte, it is true, made excellent
roads, but he made them only for his soldiers, either to awe those who
had submitted to his yoke, or to afford a facility of extending still
further his conquests.

The drivers in France do not tax themselves at every public-house as
with us, for porter or spirits, which they do not want; they seldom
stop, unless the stage is unusually long, and their horses require a
little rest.

Before we were admitted within the gates of Boulogne our passports were
demanded, and underwent a strict examination, probably the remains of
the etiquette established by Buonaparte, this place being chiefly
remarkable as the port, from whence he proposed making his threatened
descent into England. We observed a vast unfinished fort, which he had
ordered to be constructed; it will probably never be completed, but
crumble to pieces like the vast and ill-acquired authority of its
founder. The town of Boulogne is large and well fortified, but the
bustle in the port was chiefly occasioned by the embarkation of the
English cavalry.

We dined at Samers, and there had the first specimen of a French dinner
(as at Calais we had lodged at an hotel, which is kept by an Englishman,
and where every thing was _a l'Angloise_). The _general_ hour for dining
is twelve o'clock; many public carriages stop to dine before that hour,
however, from twelve to one o'clock, the traveller is sure at every
tolerable inn of finding a very abundant an