France, and which appears
so singular at the present time, as revolutionary ideas, military
habits, and the example of a military court, have given a degree of
roughness, and even ferocity, to the manners of many of the higher
orders of Frenchmen, with which it forms a curious contrast. It is,
however, in its relation to Englishmen at least, a fawning, cringing,
interested politeness; less truly respectable than the obliging civility
of the common people in England, and in substance, if not in appearance,
still farther removed from the frank, independent, disinterested
courtesy of the Scottish Highlanders.

* * *

Our entry into Boulogne was connected with several striking
circumstances. To an Englishman, who, for many years, had heard of the
mighty preparations which were made by the French in the port of
Boulogne for the invasion of this country, the first view of this town
could not but be peculiarly interesting. We accordingly got out of our
_voiture_ as quickly as possible, and walked straight to the harbour.
Here the first objects that presented themselves were, on one side, the
last remains of the grand flotilla, consisting of a few hulks,
dismantled and rotting in the harbour; on the other side, the Prussian
soldiers drawn up in regiments on the beach. Nothing could have recalled
to our minds more strongly the strength of that power which our country
had so long opposed, nor the magnificent result which had at length
attended her exertions. The forces destined for the invasion, and which
were denominated by anticipation the army of England, had been encamped
around the town. The characteristic arrogance--the undoubting
anticipation of victory--the utter thoughtlessness--the unsinking
vivacity of the French soldiery, were then at the highest pitch. Some
little idea of the gay and light-hearted sentiments with which they
contemplated the invasion of England, may be formed from the following
song, which was sung to us with unrivalled spirit and gesticulation, as
we came in sight of Boulogne, by our fellow-traveller, who had himself
served in the army of England, and who informed us it was then commonly
sung in the ranks.

SONG.

Francais! le bal va se r'ouvrir,
Et vous aimez la danse,
L'Allemande vient de finir,
Mais l'Anglaise commence.

D'y figurer tous nous Francais
Seront parbleu bien aises,
Car s'ils n'aiment pas les Anglais,
Ils aiment les Anglaises.

D'abor