for times seem to look as if this part of Europe would find us
work enough." My father spake then relating to the quarrel likely
to happen between the King of England and the Spaniard,' [1] for I
believe he had no notions of a civil war in his head.

In short, my father, perceiving my inclinations very forward to go
abroad, gave me leave to travel, upon condition I would promise to
return in two years at farthest, or sooner, if he sent for me.

While I was at Oxford I happened into the society of a young
gentleman, of a good family, but of a low fortune, being a younger
brother, and who had indeed instilled into me the first desires of
going abroad, and who, I knew, passionately longed to travel, but had
not sufficient allowance to defray his expenses as a gentleman. We
had contracted a very close friendship, and our humours being very
agreeable to one another, we daily enjoyed the conversation of
letters. He was of a generous free temper, without the least
affectation or deceit, a handsome proper person, a strong body, very
good mien, and brave to the last degree. His name was Fielding and we
called him Captain, though it be a very unusual title in a college;
but fate had some hand in the title, for he had certainly the lines of
a soldier drawn in his countenance. I imparted to him the resolutions
I had taken, and how I had my father's consent to go abroad, and would
know his mind whether he would go with me. He sent me word he would go
with all his heart.

My father, when he saw him, for I sent for him immediately to come
to me, mightily approved my choice; so we got our equipage ready, and
came away for London.

'Twas on the 22nd of April 1630, when we embarked at Dover, landed in
a few hours at Calais, and immediately took post for Paris. I shall
not trouble the reader with a journal of my travels, nor with the
description of places, which every geographer can do better than I;
but these Memoirs being only a relation of what happened either to
ourselves, or in our own knowledge, I shall confine myself to that
part of it.

We had indeed some diverting passages in our journey to Paris, as
first, the horse my comrade was upon fell so very lame with a slip
that he could not go, and hardly stand, and the fellow that rid with
us express, pretended to ride away to a town five miles off to get a
fresh horse, and so left us on the road with one horse between two of
us. We followed as well as we could, but being strange