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Boulogne, Monday, 28th April.o

This morning I sallied forth, dictionary in pocket, and strayed along the hubbub-lacking quay, in the cool of the day. Being naturally taciturn, even among my friends, and having from a child an antipathy, amounting almost to abhorrence, to address a stranger on any occasion, it may be judged in what a plight I was, when it was necessary to accost foreigners in an alien language. I thought at first I never could have got myself to break the ice. I saw numbers of people walking leisurely on the beach, who seemed to have little to do but look about them; and I resolved successively to attempt each of these numbers. But when I encountered a small party together, my prudence be came predominant. Now, methought, I shall wait till I meet an individual by himself: the third person singular is best in this case, punned I; let the plural be in the future time; and so I let that opportunity go. When the individual in the third person singular came, he was either looking a wrong way, or there was something I judged repulsive in his physiognomy, or he seemed in haste. Oh, said I at last, that some of these respectable-looking fisherwomen, with their tight waists, and short bunchy petticoats, would ask me to purchase mackerel! But I dare not trust myself in the motleycoloured group of buyers and sellers, lest they titter at

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my uncouth expressions. What is it that we ourselves perceive to be ludicrous in the attempts of a foreigner to employ our language? and is the bungled piece of work he makes of it fitted to excite ridicule? Addison somewhere states it to be the opinion of a certain philosopher, that the perception of the ridiculous is generated in the mind from a comparison between ourselves and the object of our mirth, in which we detect some advantage we possess over the other; and he concludes, that if this be the case, it would be more proper, instead of telling a man that he was very merry, to say he was very proud. On this subject it has been remarked by travellers, that the French do not indulge the irrational and coarse humour of laughing at a foreigner, merely because he cannot at first master their language. I have made the same observation on the Scotch Highlanders, of whose speech, at one time, I attempted to possess myself. This class of my countrymen are generally acknowledged to be superior to their Lowland brethren in courtesy and politeness. Whether the French and the Highlanders, therefore, do not in fact discover any thing to laugh at in the obvious imperfection with which a stranger must always use a new language, or whether their native civility covers with the robe of charity the "oral traditions" of their foreign acquaintance, I shall not take upon myself to decide. Be that as it

may, I felt a sort of inferiority to the meanest fisher-boy that

sauntered on the quay, merely because he enjoyed an accomplishment in perfection, to which I could make scarcely a claim. But, judging that one cannot always stick upon trifles, I mustered resolution, first to address one idler with a “ il fait beau temps, Monsieur," and a botched endeavour to say something favourable of the climate of the country. I next asked some questions about the boats in the stream; and thus, by degrees, took courage. Afterwards, seeing an elderly person at perfect leisure, I made up to him, who proved extremely conversable, speaking freely in a short time about his family affairs, wife, children, and poverty. He stated himself to have been formerly sergeant of Napoleon's corps de garde, and to be now out of employ: so, in fine, I engaged him for the day at two shillings and sixpence, to show me "tout chose;" I being amazed to find myself get on so well with the language, and he insisting that I spoke very good French indeed.

After breakfast, I went out with my conductor, and we made tolerable conversation. I had my pocket dictionary, and was obliged occasionally to consult the same. We proceeded first to the ramparts of the old town; and having ascended, my guide, instead of directing my acquaintance to any visible objects presently in existence, recurred to the past; to a period when Boulogne and her environs was the point to which were attracted the regards of France and of all the world: for

there the army of England reposed itself, like a lion. couchant, before gathering its strength to cross the channel, and brush away the offensive obstacle that kept the emperor from a distinct view of universal dominion. The civil Frenchman did not tell me all this in so many words; but I saw that his heart was in those long lost, stirring days of hope and energy, from the enthusiasm with which he showed the site of the different corps in the immense encampment. Here such a regiment of cavalry were hutted, and the artillery itself occupied the entire of such and such an enormous space. I cannot say that my imagination was much kindled by his description: the French army of England was generally held up to scorn in Great Britain; and my thoughts were more excited by what, at the period in question, had been taking place on our own side of the channel, under the denomination of the Volunteer System; which case some rhymer has thus stated as follows, in an address to dead Bonaparte :

"The strength of ancient kings by thee undone, Realms bent beneath thy stroke, thy legions press ..... Onward in haste, cheer'd by the glorious Sun Of Austerlitz,' and drunken with success.

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"Thou stain'dst the empurpled pride of mighty ones,
Chastised and sway'd by thy audacious arm;
Till Europe, weeping, saw her kingly thrones
Deposed and levell'd mid wild war's alarm.

"France, like a Turkish harem, was close shut,
Crouching thy sad and iron yoke beneath;
And gloomy dungeons were the hapless lot
Of gallant foes, silence, and nameless death.

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"And patriot breasts of France desponding heav'd,

And mourn'd fair freedom's lily trodden down,
Till universal rule thine eye conceiv'd,

And pois'd the foremost swoop at England's crown.

"Rous'd at the menace, straight the haughty Isle

Took fire, and vibrating with proud alarms,
Swells every heart, and stirs the very soil;

And the bright sun applauds a realm in arms.

"One voice, one soul! and darkly now has frown'd
Majestic Nore; Old English Counties wield

The might of centuries: with rapt'rous bound

The Highland Glens rush to th' indignant field."

The ramparts of the old, or upper town of Boulogne, are twenty or thirty feet across, and planted with trees: they form a healthy and pleasant walk. Several old gentlemen were moving about, or seated on the benches reading. Children, and their nursery maids, paraded slowly around. We saw several English. It is a matter of skill, to be acquired only by practice, to discover whether any one is, by their outward look, French or English; my guide easily detected the latter, but I did not; the men especially. Afterwards I found it easy to discover an English lady, particularly when confronted with the Parisian belles. 1 do not pretend to be par

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