ra in Mr. Jorrocks's life,
and he entirely forget all about Sunday and Dover dullness the moment he
set foot on sprightly France, and he no more recollected it was Sunday,
than if such a day had ceased to exist in the calendar. Having bolted
his steak, he gave his Hessians their usual flop with his handkerchief,
combed his whiskers, pulled his wig straight, and sallied forth,
dictionary in hand, to translate the signs, admire the clever little
children talking French, quiz the horses, and laugh at everything
he didn't understand; to spend his first afternoon, in short, as
nine-tenths of the English who go "abroad" are in the habit of doing.

Early the next morning. Mr. Jorrocks and the Yorkshireman, accompanied
by the commissionnaire of the Hotel d'Orleans, repaired to the upper
town, for the purpose of obtaining passports, and as they ascended the
steep street called La grand Rue, which connects the two towns, they
held a consultation as to what the former should be described. A
"Marchand-Epicier" would obtain Mr. Jorrocks no respect, but, then, he
objected to the word "Rentier." "What is the French for fox-'unter?"
said he, after a thoughtful pause, turning to his dictionary. There was
no such word. "Sportsman, then? Ay, Chasseur! how would that read? John
Jorrocks, Esq., Chasseur,--not bad, I think," said he. "That will do,"
replied the Yorkshireman, "but you must sink the Esquire now, and
tack 'Monsieur' before your name, and a very pretty euphonious sound
'Monsieur Jorrocks' will have; and when you hear some of the little
Parisian grisettes lisp it out as you turn the garters over on their
counters, while they turn their dark flashing eyes over upon you, it
will be enough to rejuvenate your old frame. But suppose we add to
'Chasseur'--'Member of the Surrey Hunt?'" "By all means," replied
Mr. Jorrocks, delighted at the idea, and ascending the stairs of the
Consulate three steps at a time.

The Consul, Mons. De Horter, was in attendance sitting in state, with
a gendarme at the door and his secretary at his elbow. "_Bonjour,_
Monsieur," said he, bowing, as Mr. Jorrocks passed through the lofty
folding door; to which our traveller replied, "The top of the morning to
you, sir," thinking something of that sort would be right. The Consul,
having scanned him through his green spectacles, drew a large sheet of
thin printed paper from his portfolio, with the arms of France placed
under a great petticoat at the top, and proc