so instantaneous a remedy, either for
violent fatigue, or any of the other effects following unusual exercise,
as this simple specific. After a ride of sixty or seventy miles through
the most dusty roads, and under the hottest sun of a southern
Midsummer, I have been restored to my morning freshness by the cold
bath.

By the buildings which I observed to be going forward, I was led to a
conclusion that Calais is a flourishing town; but I confess I saw no
means to which I could attribute this prosperity. There was no
appearance of commerce, and very little of industry. One circumstance
was truly unaccountable to me. Though there were two or three ships
laying unrigged, but otherwise sound, and in the best navigable
condition, there was a building-yard, in which two new vessels were on
the stock. These vessels, indeed, were of no considerable tonnage; but I
confess myself at a loss to guess their object.

About a mile from Calais, is a beautiful avenue of the finest walnut and
chesnut trees I have ever seen in France. They stand upon common land,
and, of course, are public property. In the proper season of the year,
the people of Calais repair hither for their evening dance; and such is
the force of custom, the fruit remains untouched, and reserved for these
occasions. Every one then takes what he pleases, but carries nothing
home beyond what may suffice for his consumption on the way.

In my walk thither I passed several cottages, and entered some. The
inhabitants seemed happy, and to possess some substantial comforts. The
greater part of these cottages had a walnut or chestnut tree before
them, around which was a rustic seat, and which, as overshadowed by the
broad branches and luxuriant foliage, composed a very pleasing image.
The manner in which the sod was partially worn under most of them,
explained their nightly purpose; or if there could yet be any doubt, the
flute and fiddle, pendant in almost every house, spoke a still more
intelligible language.

I entered no house so poor, and met with no inhabitant so inhospitable,
as not to receive the offer either of milk, or some sort of wine; and
every one seemed to take a refusal as if they had solicited, and had not
obtained, an act of kindness. If the French are not the most hospitable
people in the world, they have at least the art of appearing so. I speak
here only of the peasantry, and from first impressions.

The rent of one of these cottages, of two floors an