STRANGE INCIDENTS.

was the work of a moment.

185

The novelty of this little act

of kindness caused me to regard her with wonder and admiration: I felt sure she had received a finished education. During our conversation while waiting for the train, I found this French lady a perfect mistress of English. To my remark that I came from America in quest of health, she replied, with great simplicity, "I wonder why you didn't bring your doctor with you, Sir!" She doubtless thought American travellers were made of cash!

At many of the railway offices ladies deal out the tickets, on which are printed the names of all the towns and their distances. My ticket from Paris to Havre was fifteen francs and six centimes, less than $3; time, seven hours. A centime is a copper coin the size of a dime-one-tenth of a sous.

It is painful to think of leaving France, just as one is getting a little familiar with every-day French phrases. It would be a piece of vanity to talk of learning French in a couple of weeks; yet necessity and patience will achieve wonders, especially when the heart is in any work. It struck me (the scholar will correct me) that this language, though beautiful, is more exact than ours, the words conveying but one idea; for when I gave a phrase the true accent, I was not readily understood. It occurred that motions and attitudes are no small items. Taking this hint, I was surprised at the difference. I could go through the shrugs and jerks of the head, and throw out the hands, and was mightily pleased with the discovery. It was the "pursuit of knowledge under difficulties!" The good-natured reader may smile; and the starched and stilted critic will cry out, "O nonsense!" We shall see. "Comment s'appêl cette ville, s'il vous plait, Madame?" said I to a lady opposite. I knew from her genteel address she would not smile if I made any mistake. She replied with great sweetness of manner, "Dissel, Monsieur," "Je suis Américain,” I added, as an apology. This lady announced all the towns, and gave me much pleasing informa

tion. Certainly I never passed a happier day on a railway, which was heightened by the idea of going to England by the Isle of Wight! Near Mantes we passed a tunnel seemingly four miles long; yet without the dreariness of English tunnels, for it was lighted up. On entering, all conversation immediately ceases. Every one seems conscious of the dreary transition, the horror of which is increased by a dismal, oppressive, deafening roar-no faint emblem of "the valley of the shadow of death." At Dissel, we crossed the Seine (as crooked as a snake) twice in a minute. On a steep, romantic eminence, at the base of which the railway passes, stands the new cathedral of Rouen, with its splendid fretted spire piercing the very sky, in architectural beauty well worthy of the universal admiration it draws from travellers. At Pavilly, a pretty town, we stopped awhile, and then flew arrow-like through Motteville and St. Romaine, arriving in Havre at three. "Adieu, Monsieur !" said the French lady; and vanished. I owe her a debt of respect.

While passing along the Quay, valise in hand, a gentleman standing at the door of his counting-house called out before I came within three rods of him-"Halloo, Mr. D——! where did you come from?" "Pray, where have you seen me, Sir?" said I to the stranger. "O! I've seen you often on the W

ferry-boat." Well, I suppose marvels will never end! Who would not feel astonished? This gentleman was Captain Howe, late of Williamsburgh, to whom I had an introduction from Dr. Cooke, which was left in London, not thinking of returning to England by way of Havre. 66 What can I do for you?" O! what a power there was in those six short words, to a stranger in France! It is sym pathy the heart craves. This I had. I was too much overcome to speak for some time. I told him I had travelled eight thousand miles, had seen all sorts of fortune, ascended many a hill Difficulty, and as the delectable hills of the Isle of Wight would soon appear, I needed nothing-absolutely nothing!

ADIEU TO FRANCE.

187

Havre is not so large as I expected: the city lies chiefly in a valley at the mouth of the Seine. A romantic neighbouring hill affords a grand prospect of the sea; but the view of the city below is cut off, except by the gate-bars of the high wall which runs all along the hill covered with plantations.

66

On coming out of the steamship for Southampton, I was siezed by two gens d'armes. What could this rough handling mean? Ah! those ten francs you refused to pay the Minister in Paris! thought I. However, my courage rose with the emergency; yet I was provoked not a little, for I had done nothing. Observing them look at the pockets of my London cockney coat, I saw it was the necks of two bottles that interested them. No doubt they took me for an English smuggler. What do you want ?" said I, angrily, as I held up by the neck a bottle in each hand, with a warlike air. I felt like breaking a bottle over each of their heads at such houndish susptcion; but recollecting that republican France is not republican America, and wishing to select my own lodgings, I mastered my feelings as much as possible; for is not discretion valour? Besides, a shower-bath of café au lait and claret .would hardly compensate me for the pleasure of seeing it fall gracefully over their ears like the fountain of Bacchus at Verseilles, for these bottles were all I had, and brought all the way from Paris, for a time of need. Looking in their faces with a feeling of honest indignation, I burst into a laugh at the odd idea of being seized as an English smuggler, under such a foolish suspicion. "Won't you take some?" said I, with mock politeness. Both of them looked as if they had been befooled; and one said with a mortified look, "He is an American-let him go !" Captain H advised me to go to the Prefecture of Police, where my passport would be signed gratis; and thus ended all fear of arrest for those ten francs which they tried to get, and could not!

At ten that night, I was off in the Royal Mail steamship for Southampton. Just before sailing, these gens d'armes

went round to all the berths, examining the passports; and though the full moon shone down the cabin stairway near which I lay, they said nothing to me. The fare from Havre to Southampton or Portsmouth was fifteen English shillings, or $3.50. It is about a hundred and fifty miles across the channel at this point, and takes some ten hours.

Our ship was rocked about like a tub in a whirlpool; but the strong ironsided Warrior battled handsomely with the staggering waves, which were decidedly uproarious and uncivil, especially near the coast of old Gaul, where they are like the people whose shores they lash, always in wild, restless commotion. Mine was indeed

"A painful passage o'er a restless flood."

During one brief night I suffered the condensed horrors of a whole Atlantic voyage. The rocking of the ship made the moon seem to sweep to and fro over half the sky. The steward, a pert, waspish young snipper-snapper, told me to be quiet. He might as well have spoken to Ætna. You are well paid for being kept awake!" I retorted. He got up in a fit of wrath, and went on deck for something. By and by he came down in a terrible hurry-scurry to escape a big wave that came swashing furiously over the ship, flooding the cabin. He yelled prodigiously, as he shook off the water, "My hat's overboard!" Sea-sickness made me careless, and I said in

his own words, "Why don't you keep quiet ?”

But the voyager can afford to encounter the chopping cross sea always prevailing between Boulogne and Havre, for such exalted pleasure as mine. At sunrise I was off Ryde, six miles opposite Portsmouth. The sea was now but gently ruffled by the natural motion of the tide. The transporting view on that glorious summer morning is painted on memory like the gorgeous bow of promise after a storm. On the left is Ryde, rising out of the sea in bold, arching outline, with luxurious gardens, white palaces, and bristling spires, all lit up at once by the big orb rising out of the deep sea!

CHAPTER XVII.

Esle of Wight.

"A precious stone set in the silver sea. 99

AFTER a slight examination of my luggage at Portsmouth, I crossed over to Ryde, six miles, by the opposition steam ferry, landing at the splendid pier that runs one-third of a mile into the sea. This magnificent town was thronged with wealth and fashion, attracted by the luxury of seabathing, and the strand was covered with baths on wheels. I pushed on without loss of time, by the most independent mode of travelling, a-foot, to explore the island, taking the left hand road to Brading. The clear summer sky, and the buoyant sea-breeze that fanned hill and valley of this "garden of England,” were enough to create a fine flow of spirits, I may say ecstasy; for never, never, in my whole life, had I looked upon scenery so perfectly charming. The accounts I had read and heard in "thoughts that breathe and words that burn," were by no means overwrought, and never can be, till man "can paint like Nature." Alas for poor me! Mine will be little more than a faint outline in cold daguerreotype. Would that the reader could see it in all its living spirit and glowing freshness! One thing I know: those who have traversed the Isle of Wight will not charge me with exaggerated fancy flights, whatever others may think.

Crossing the bridge over a brook that slid along the valley opening out on the clear blue sea, the fine McAdam road led along many a romantic slope fringed with hedges, the goodly landscape beautifully variegated by hill and dale, clumps of trees, and smooth-mown meadows. Here you will see some of the handsomest farms in the world, dotted over with cottages in the old English style, with broad, shelving, thatched