ce of every distended blossom
added much to the gratification of the beholder. But it is time to descend
from this elevation; and to think of reaching Duclair.

DUCLAIR is situated close to the very borders of the Seine, which has now
an absolute lake-like appearance. We stopped at the auberge to rest our
horses; and I commenced a discourse with the master of the inn and his
daughter; the latter, a very respectable-looking and well-behaved young
woman of about twenty-two years of age. She was preparing a large crackling
wood-fire to dress a fish called the _Alose_, for the passengers of the
_diligence_--who were expected within half an hour. The French think they
can never _butter_ their victuals sufficiently; and it would have produced
a spasmodic affection in a thoroughly bilious spectator, could he have seen
the enormous piece of butter which this active young _cuisiniere_ thought
necessary to put into the pot in which the '_Alose_' was to be boiled. She
laughed at the surprise I expressed; and added "qu'on ne peut rien faire
dans la cuisine sans le beurre." You ought to know, by the by, that the
_Alose_, something like our _mackerel_ in flavour, is a large and delicious
fish; and that we were always anxious to bespeak it at the table-d'hote at
Rouen. Extricated from the lake of butter in which it floats, when brought
upon table, it forms not only a rich, but a very substantial dish.

I took a chair and sat in the open air, by the side of the door--enjoying
the breeze, and much disposed to gossip with the master of the place.
Perceiving this, the landlord approached, and addressed me with a pleasant
degree of familiarity. "You are from London, then, Sir?" "I am." "Ah Sir, I
never think of London but with the most painful sensations." "How so?"
"Sir, I am the sole heir of a rich banker who died in that city before the
Revolution. He was in partnership with an English gentleman. Can you
possibly advise and assist me upon the subject?" I told him that my advice
and assistance were literally not worth a sous; but that, such as they
were, he was perfectly welcome to both. "Your daughter Sir, is not
married?"--"Non, Monsieur, elle n'est pas encore epousee: mais je lui dis
qu'elle ne sera jamais _heureuse_ avant qu'elle le soit." The daughter, who
had overheard the conversation, came forward, and looking archly over her
shoulder, replied--"ou _malheureuse_, mon pere!" A sort of truism,
expressed by her with singular epigramm