entered, bearing a subscription paper. He addressed the
shopkeeper, saying, that he begged for his subscription, as he knew he
was a royalist. I never _subscribe_ my name in times like these, said
the cautious Frenchman, but I will give you some money. The gentleman
entreated, urging, that respectable _subscriptions_, more than money,
were wanted; but all in vain. The shopkeeper paid his ten shillings,
saying, _he would always be the first to support his King_.

I entered a bookseller's shop, and asked for the political writings of
the day. The man looked me cautiously in the face, and said he had none
of them. I happened to see one on the table, and asked him for it,
telling him that I was an Englishman, and wished to carry them with me;
he then bid me step in, and from hidden corners of the inner-shop, he
produced the whole mass of pamphlets.--All this denotes that a change is
immediately expected.

This last night has been passed as might be expected, owing to the
circumstances in which we were placed, in much agitation. Clausel is
every moment advancing up the town. Every thing is in confusion. The
troops declare they will not fire a shot. The national guards are
wavering and undecided, and this moment (five in the morning) our
coachman has knocked at our door to tell us that we cannot remain
another moment safe in the town.

* * *

_Friday_, the 31st.--We set off accordingly at sunrise, before any one
was abroad in the street. Our coachman reported, that General Clausel
had reached the gates, and that the national guard had been beat off. We
have arrived, therefore, at the most critical moment, and may be
grateful that we have escaped. The road between Bourdeaux and Poillac
is very bad. Arrived at the inn at half way, we met with the Marquis de
Valsuzenai, prefect of the town, who confirmed the bad news: We learnt
from him, that at three in the morning of the 30th, the town had
capitulated without a shot having been fired. Two men were killed by a
mistake of the soldiers firing, upon their own officers; a miserable
resistance! But it could not be otherwise, as no militia could long
stand against regulars. Still I expected tumults in the streets--rising
among the inhabitants--weeping and wailing. But no: the French are
unlike any other nation, they have no energy, no principle. Miserable
people! We arrived at Poillac just as it grew dark, and owing to the
sullen insolence of our coachman, who was a complete revo