o'clock,
so we had time to walk on the Boulevards, and to see the fortifications,
which must be very strong, all the country round being flat and marshy.
Lost, as all know, by the bloody papist bitch (one must be vernacular
when on French ground) Queen Mary, of red-hot memory. I would rather she
had burned a score more of bishops. If she had kept it, her sister Bess
would sooner have parted with her virginity. Charles I. had no
temptation to part with it--it might, indeed, have been shuffled out of
our hands during the Civil wars, but Noll would have as soon let
monsieur draw one of his grinders; then Charles II. would hardly have
dared to sell such an old possession, as he did Dunkirk; and after that
the French had little chance till the Revolution. Even then, I think, we
could have held a place that could be supplied from our own element, the
sea. _Cui bono?_ None, I think, but to plague the rogues.--We dined at
Cormont, and being stopped by Mr. Canning having taken up all the
post-horses, could only reach Montreuil that night. I should have liked
to have seen some more of this place, which is fortified; and as it
stands on an elevated and rocky site must present some fine points. But
as we came in late and left early, I can only bear witness to good
treatment, good supper, good _vin de Barsac_, and excellent beds.

_October_ 28.--Breakfasted at Abbeville, and saw a very handsome Gothic
church, and reached Grandvilliers at night. The house is but
second-rate, though lauded by various English travellers for the
moderation of its charges, as was recorded in a book presented to us by
the landlady. There is no great patriotism in publishing that a
traveller thinks the bills moderate; it serves usually as an intimation
to mine host or hostess that John Bull will bear a little more
squeezing. I gave my attestation too, however, for the charges of the
good lady resembled those elsewhere; and her anxiety to please was
extreme. Folks must be harder-hearted than I am to resist the
_empressement_, which may, indeed, be venal, yet has in its expression
a touch of cordiality.

[_Paris_,] _October_ 29.--Breakfasted at Beauvais, and saw its
magnificent cathedral--unfinished it has been left, and unfinished it
will remain, of course,--the fashion of cathedrals being passed away.
But even what exists is inimitable, the choir particularly, and the
grand front. Beauvais is called the _Pucelle_, yet, so far as I can see,
she wears no