about ten or fifteen acres of land. Some grass was
immediately cut for my horse, and the coffee which I produced from my
pocket was speedily set before me, with cakes, wine, some meat, and
cheese, the French peasantry having no idea of what we call tea.
Throwing the windows up, so as to enjoy the scenery and freshness of the
garden; sitting upon one chair, and resting a leg upon the other;
alternately pouring out my coffee, and reading a pocket-edition of
Thomson's Seasons, I enjoyed one of those moments which give a zest to
life; I felt happy, and in peace and in love with all around me.

Proceeding upon my journey, two miles on the Calais side of Boulogne I
fell in with an overturned chaise, which the postillion was trying to
raise. The vehicle was a _chaise de poste_, the ordinary travelling
carriage of the country, and a thing in a civilized country wretched
beyond conception. It was drawn by three horses, one in the shafts, and
one on each side. The postillion had ridden on the one on the driving
side; he was a little punch fellow, and in a pair of boots like
fire-buckets. The travellers consisted of an old French lady and
gentleman; Madame in a high crimped cap, and stiff long whalebone stays.
Monsieur informed me very courteously of the cause of the accident,
whilst Madame alternately curtsied to me and menaced and scolded the
postillion. The French postillions, indeed, are the most intolerable set
of beings. They never hesitate to get off their horses, suffer them to
go forwards, and follow them very leisurely behind. I saw several
instances in which they had suffered the traces to twist round the
horses' legs, so that on descending an hill, their escape with life must
be a miracle.

I shall briefly observe, now I am upon this subject, that posting is
nearly as dear in France as in England. A post in France is six miles,
and one shilling and threepence is charged for each horse, and
sevenpence for the driver. The price, therefore, for two horses would be
three shillings and a penny; but whatever number of persons there may
be, a horse is charged for each. The postillions, moreover, expect at
least double of what the book of regulations allows them, as matter of
right.

I reached Boulogne about sunset, and was much pleased with its vicinity.
On each side of the road, and at different distances, from two hundred
yards to a mile, were groves of trees, in which were situated some
ancient chateaux. Many of them we