of France. The voyage is longer and more uncertain, the distance by land
between London and Paris is also greater, nor does it offer equal
facilities as to inns and public carriages.

Dieppe is situated on a low tongue of land, but from the sea appears to
great advantage; characterized as it is by its old castle, an assemblage
of various forms and ages, placed insulated upon an eminence to the west,
and by the domes and towers of its churches. The mouth of the harbor is
narrow, and inclosed by two long stone piers, on one of which stands an
elegant crucifix, raised by the fathers of the mission; to the other has
lately been affixed a stone, with an inscription, stating that the
Duchess d'Angouleme landed there on her return to her native country;
but here is no measure of her foot, no votive pillar, as are to be seen
at Calais, to commemorate a similar honor done to the inhabitants by the
monarch. A small house on the western pier, is, however, more deserving
of notice than either the inscription or the crucifix: it was built by
Louis XVIth, for the residence of a sailor, who, by saving the lives of
shipwrecked mariners, had deserved well of his sovereign and his
country. Its front bears, "A J'n. A'r. Bouzard, pour ses services
maritimes;" but there was originally a second inscription in honor of
the king, which has been carefully erased. The fury of the revolution
could pardon nothing that bore the least relation to royalty; or surely
a monument like this, the reward of courage and calculated to inspire
only the best of feelings[2], might have been allowed to have remained
uninjured. The French are wiser than we are in erecting these public
memorials for public virtues: they better understand the art of
producing an effect, and they know that such gratifications bestowed
upon the living are seldom thrown away. We rarely give them but to the
dead. Capt. Manby, to whom above one hundred and thirty shipwrecked
mariners are even now indebted for their existence, and whose invention
will probably be the means of preservation to thousands, is allowed to
live in comparative obscurity; while in France, a mere pilot, for
having saved the lives of only eight individuals, had a residence built
for him at the public expence, received an immediate gratification of
one thousand francs, enjoyed a pension during his life, and, with his
name and his exploits, now occupies a conspicuous place in the history
of the duchy.

Within the pi