ff he set on the grand tour, carrying with
him a map of France, a bundle of clothes, and a scanty supply of
money. Crossing the channel, he reached Calais, a place which Horace
Walpole, writing from Rome, declared had astonished him more than
anything he had elsewhere seen, but in which our adventurer found
nothing more astonishing than a superb Swiss regiment. He proceeded
to Paris, and thence through Switzerland, by Geneva and Berne, into
Germany, at a town of which--Guenz in Suabia--he met with a comical
enough adventure.

On entering the town he was challenged by a soldier, who, having
learned he had no passport, carried him before a magistrate, by whom
he was forthwith condemned as a vagabond, and remitted to the
custody of a recruiting sergeant. This worthy, in turn, introduced
him to the commanding officer, who politely gave our traveller the
choice of serving his Imperial and Apostolic Majesty, the Emperor of
Germany, either in his cavalry or his infantry forces. But Jackson,
strangely insensible to the honour, flatly refused to serve his
Majesty in these or any other ways, and desired to be at once set
free, and suffered to continue his journey. The officer, doubtless
amazed at such presumption, desired the sergeant to convey him to
the barracks, where he was placed in a large room, in which were
congregated some two hundred or so involuntary recruits like
himself--harmless travellers, who, being destitute of passports, the
emperor forcibly enlisted into his service. Jackson found his
co-mates in misfortune very dirty, very ragged, but perfectly civil
and good-tempered. Having a little recovered his serenity--for it is
easy to see, though our hero is described as a man of placid
demeanour and somewhat Quakerly appearance, he could be not a little
fiery at times--he sat down and wrote to the commanding officer,
entreating leave to sleep at an inn, and proffering the deposit of
all his money as a pledge for his reappearance next morning. The
reply was an order that he should surrender his writing materials.
At seven o'clock, the appointed sleeping hour, the sergeant returned
and gave the signal for bed by rapping with his cane on the floor,
which was speedily covered by a number of dirty bags of mouldy
straw--the regulation mattresses, it would seem, for involuntary
recruits. Jackson--peppery again--refused to lie down, but was at
last compelled to do so, and between two of the dirtiest fellows of
the lot, each