that land we were taught to believe was
tottering to bankruptcy.

Santron affected to be pleased with all--talked of the _beau pillage_ it
would afford one day or other; but in reality this appearance of riches
and prosperity seemed to depress and discourage him. Both French and
American writers had agreed in depicting the pauperism and discontent of
England, and yet where were the signs of it? Not a house was untenanted,
every street was thronged, every market filled; the equipages of the
wealthy vied with the loaded waggons in number; and if there were not
the external evidences of happiness and enjoyment the gayer population
of other countries display, there was an air of well-being and comfort
such as no other land could exhibit.

Another very singular trait made a deep impression on us. Here were
these islanders with a narrow strait only separating them from a land
bristling with bayonets. The very roar of the artillery at exercise
might be almost heard across the gulf, and yet not a soldier was to
be seen about! There were neither forts nor bastions. The harbour, so
replete with wealth, lay open and unprotected, not even a gunboat or
a guardship to defend it! There was an insolence in this security that
Santron could not get over, and he muttered a prayer that the day might
not be distant that should make them repent it.

He was piqued with everything. While on board ship we had agreed
together to pass ourselves for Canadians, to avoid all inquiries of the
authorities! Heaven help us! The authorities never thought of us. We
were free to go or stay as we pleased. Neither police nor passport
officers questioned us. We might have been Hoche and Massena for aught
they either knew or cared. Not a _mouchard_ tracked us; none even looked
after us as we wont. To me this was all very agreeable and reassuring;
to my companion it was contumely and insult. All the ingenious fiction
he had devised of our birth, parentage, and pursuits, was a fine romance
inedited, and he was left to sneer at the self-sufficiency that would
not take alarm at the advent of two ragged youths on the quay of
Liverpool.

'If they but knew who we were, Maurice,' he kept continually muttering
as we went along--'if these fellows only knew whom they had in their
town, what a rumpus it would create! How the shops would close! What
barricading of doors and windows we should see! What bursts of terror
and patriotism! _Par St. Denis_, I have a mind to t