ubstantially. Poultry, chesnuts, milk, and dried fruit,
formed their daily support. "We never buy meat," said she, "because we
can raise more poultry than we can sell."

The country around Calais has so exact a resemblance to that of the
opposite coast, as to appear almost a counterpart, and as if the sea had
worked itself a channel, and thus divided a broad and lofty hill. It is
not, however, quite so barren and cheerless as in the immediate
precincts of Dover. Vegetation, what there was of it, seemed stronger,
and trees grow nearer to the cliffs. There were likewise many flowers
which I had never seen about Dover and the Kentish coast. But on the
whole, the country was so similar that I in vain looked around me for
something to note.

The gentleman to whom I had brought a letter of introduction was at
Paris; but I saw his son, to whom I was therefore compelled to introduce
myself. The young man lamented much that his father was from home, and
that he could not receive me in a manner which was suitable to a
gentleman of my appearance; the friend of Mr. Pinckney, who was the
beloved friend of his father. All these things are matter of course to
all Frenchmen, who are never at a loss for civility and terms of
endearment. A young English gentleman of the same age with this youth
(about nineteen), would either have affronted you by his sulky reserve,
or compelled you as a matter of charity to leave him, to release him
from blushing and stammering. On the other hand, young Tantuis and
myself were intimates in the moment after our first introduction.

Upon entering the house, and a parlour opening upon a lawn in the back
part, I was introduced to Mademoiselle his sister, a beautiful girl, a
year, or perhaps more, younger than her brother. She rose from an
English piano as I entered, whilst her brother introduced me with a
preamble, which he rolled off his tongue in a moment. A refreshment of
fruit, capillaire, and a sweet wine, of which I knew not the name, was
shortly placed before me, and the young people conversed with me about
England and Calais, and whatever I told them of my own concerns, with
as much ease and apparent interest, as if we had been born and lived in
the same village.

Mademoiselle informed me, that the people in Calais had no character at
all; that they were fishermen and smugglers, which last business they
carried on in war as well as in peace, and had no reputation either for
honesty or industry; t