country abounds with mule, which are used in carriages,
carts, waggons, ploughs, &c. These animals are of a remarkable size
here. The roads, ever since we left Lyons, excepting where we met with a
hundred or two hundred yards of pavement, have been uniformly bad.
To-day, however, we made out about 33 miles between six and five
o'clock. This town of Montelimart is celebrated for one manufacture
only, viz. a sort of cake made of almonds and white sugar, called
Nagaux. This article is sent from this place all over France!------
Distance 33 miles--to Montelimart.

* * *

Our journey to-day (_Friday_ the 24th) though rather more rapid, was not
by any means comfortable. The country hereabout has a great want of
milk and butter;--not a cow to be seen. The soil is still to appearance
wretchedly poor, yet it gives a rich produce, in grapes, figs, olives,
and mulberry leaves, for the silk worms. The wine (vin ordinaire) sells
here at six sous the bottle; it is poor in quality, yet by no means
unpalatable. The roads continue as bad as ever, rather worse indeed, for
the thin creamy mud has become thick doughy clay.

We did not arrive at Orange till half past five, but were fortunate in
finding a civil reception at the Palais Royal, the first inn on entering
the town. We met with no adventures to-day of any kind. The language of
the people has now become completely unintelligible; it is a Patois of
the most horrible nature. Many of the better sort of people among the
peasants, are able to speak French with you, but where they have only
their own dialect, you are completely at a loss. I had conceived, that
there would be no more difference between French and Patois, than
between the better and the lower dialects of Scotch and English; but the
very words are here changed: A carter asked the landlord with whom we
were conversing, for a [8]"Peetso morcel du bosse,"--_"petit morceau du
bois."_ The landlord, a respectable-looking man, gave us a good deal of
news regarding the state of the country. He says, that the people in the
south are all anxious for peace, and that those in France, who wish for
war, are those who have nothing else to live on; that nobody with a
house over his back, and a little money, desires to have war again.

The people here seem to amuse themselves with a perpetual variety of
reports. The story to-day is, that Alexander has declared his intention
of sending 60,000 men to Poland, to take possession of that coun