lands.

The young lady who had left as returned towards evening, and by her
heightened colour, and a small parcel in her hand, appeared to have
walked some distance. Her brother, doubtless from a sympathetic nature,
guessed in an instant the object of her walk. "You have been to Calais,"
said he. "Yes," replied she, with the lovely smile of kindness; "I
thought that Monsieur would like some tea after the manner of his
countrymen, and having only coffee in the house, I walked to Calais to
procure some." I again felt the want of French loquacity and readiness.
My heart was more eloquent than my tongue. I rose, and involuntarily
took and pressed the hand of the sweet girl. Who will now say that the
French are not characteristically a good-humoured people, and that a
lovely French girl is not an angel? I thought so at the time, and though
my heart has now cooled, I think so still. I feel even no common
inclination to, describe this young French beauty, but that I will not
do her the injustice to copy off an image which remains more faithfully
and warmly imprinted on my memory.

The house, as I have mentioned, opened behind on a lawn, with which the
drawing-room was even, so that its doors and windows opened immediately
upon it. This lawn could not be less than four or five English acres in
extent, and was girded entirely around by a circle of lofty trees from
within, and an ancient sea-stone wall, very thick and high, from
without. The trunks of the trees and the wall were hid by a thick copse
or shrubbery of laurels, myrtles, cedars, and other similar shrubs, so
as to render the enclosed lawn the most beautiful and sequestered spot I
had ever seen. On the further extremity from the house was an avenue
from the lawn to the garden, which was likewise spacious, and surrounded
by a continuation of the same wall. In the further corner of the latter
was a summer-house, erected on the top of the wall, so as to look over
it on the fields and the distant sea.

Tea was here served up to us in a manner neither French nor English, but
partaking of both. Plates of cold chicken, slices of chine, cakes,
sweetmeats, and the whitest bread, composed a kind of mixed repast,
between the English tea and the French supper. The good-humour and
vivacity of my young friends, and the prospect from the windows, which
was as extensive as beautiful, rendered it a refreshment peculiarly
cheering to the spirits of a traveller.

Before the conclusio