ticular,
which had been the scene of the late disorder, was watched with jealous
caution. In all, there might have been four or five thousand men under
arms. They were merely in readiness, leaving a free passage for
carriages, though in some of the narrow streets we found the bayonets
pretty near our faces.

An American being supposed _ex officio_, as it were, to be a well-wisher
to the popular cause, there is, perhaps, a slight disposition to look at
us with distrust. The opinion of our _travellers'_ generally favouring
liberty is, in my judgment, singularly erroneous, the feelings of a
majority being, on the whole, just the other way, for, at least, the
first year or two of their European experience; though, I think, it is
to be noticed, by the end of that time, that they begin to lose sight of
the personal interests which, at home, have made them anything but
philosophers on such subjects, and to see and appreciate the immense
advantages of freedom over exclusion, although the predominance of the
former may not always favour their own particular views. Such, at least,
has been the result of my own observations, and so far from considering
a fresh arrival from home, as being likely to be an accession to our
little circle of liberal principles, I have generally deemed all such
individuals as being more likely to join the side of the aristocrats or
the exclusionists in politics. This is not the moment to enter into an
examination of the causes that have led to so singular a contradiction
between opinions and facts, though I think the circumstance is not to be
denied, for it is now my intention to give you an account of the manner
in which matters are managed here, rather than enter into long
investigations of the state of society at home.

Not long after my arrival in France, a visit was announced, from a
person who was entirely unknown to me, but who called himself a
_litterateur_. The first interview passed off as such interviews usually
do, and circumstances not requiring any return on my part, it was soon
forgotten. Within a fortnight, however, I received visit the second,
when the conversation took a political turn, my guest freely abusing the
Bourbons, the aristocrats, and the present state of things in France. I
did little more than listen. When the way was thus opened, I was asked
if I admired Sir Walter Scott, and particularly what I thought of
Ivanhoe, or, rather, if I did not think it an indifferent book. A