s that it was the elder Gallois whom Scott saw, and that he ascribed to
him, though the title is misquoted, a work written by the younger.

[383] "When he was in Paris," Hazlitt writes, "and went to Galignani's,
he sat down in an outer room to look at some book he wanted to see; none
of the clerks had the least suspicion who he was. When it was found out,
the place was in a commotion."--From Mr. Alexander Ireland's excellent
_Selections from Hazlitt's writings,_ 8vo, Lond. 1889, p. 482.

[384] _Ivanhoe_ might have borne a motto somewhat analogous to the
inscription which Frederick the Great's predecessor used to affix to his
attempts at portrait-painting when he had the gout: "Fredericus I. in
tormentis pinxit."--_Recollections of Sir Walter Scott_, p. 240. Lond.
1837.

NOVEMBER

_November_ 1.--I suppose the ravishing is going to begin, for we have
had the Dames des Halles, with a bouquet like a maypole, and a speech
full of honey and oil, which cost me ten francs; also a small
worshipper, who would not leave his name, but came _seulement pour avoir
le plaisir, la felicite_ etc. etc. All this jargon I answer with
corresponding _blarney_ of my own, for "have I not licked the black
stone of that ancient castle?" As to French, I speak it as it comes, and
like Doeg in _Absalom and Achitophel_--

"----dash on through thick and thin,
Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in."

We went this morning with M. Gallois to the Church of St. Genevieve, and
thence to the College Henri IV., where I saw once more my old friend
Chevalier.[385] He was unwell, swathed in a turban of nightcaps and a
multiplicity of _robes de chambre_; but he had all the heart and the
vivacity of former times. I was truly glad to see the kind old man. We
were unlucky in our day for sights, this being a high festival--All
Souls' Day. We were not allowed to scale the steeple of St. Genevieve,
neither could we see the animals at the Jardin des Plantes, who, though
they have no souls, it is supposed, and no interest of course in the
devotions of the day, observe it in strict retreat, like the nuns of
Kilkenny. I met, however, one lioness walking at large in the Jardin,
and was introduced. This was Madame de Souza,[386] the authoress of some
well-known French romances of a very classical character, I am told,
for I have never read them. She must have been beautiful, and is still
well-looked. She is the mother of the handsome Count de Fla