sights is given
by groups of Frenchmen in beards and moustachios, wrapped in furred
garments of strange fashion, and overcome by nervousness at the varied
dangers which they are about to encounter. Your correspondent, with
proper indifference, reads _Punch_ and the evening papers all the way to
Dover. His companions are two anxious Gauls, a boy and his tutor, and a
party of exceedingly gay appearance and manners, who has no uniform rule
for the introduction or suppression of his h's. He is perhaps a
traveller in the button or hook-and-eye line.

At Dover the tourist is turned out into the dark with his companions,
and finds himself in the power of a band of bravoes, who share the
luggage between them, thrust us, the helpless owners, into narrow and
filthy dungeons on wheels, and then, reckless of prayers and menaces,
hold a council upon our fate. We are at length hurried off into deeper
gloom, and the plash of the ocean awakens indefinable apprehensions in
the breasts of all. But we wrong the band--they are honest as things go,
and will take ransom. A shilling, under pretence of an omnibus ride of a
hundred yards, satisfies one ruffian; a second shilling stays the wrath
of another, who in return mildly slides your portmanteau down a board
into the steamer. This vessel is fuming in great excitement at
everybody's confounded stupidity and slowness. "What on earth are you
waiting for?" it seems to say. "How can you possibly expect me to take
the letters in time? It's all very well for you, you know, but I'm a
public character, and have got a reputation to keep up. Don't stand
loitering there about those things. Pitch 'em in anyhow. Hang the
luggage. What's luggage to letters? You have no idea how important the
mail-service is. I know I'm very passionate, and if you don't come at
once I shall scream."

Ah! the last carpet-bag is in; the bell rings, the bad language
partially ceases, the mooring ropes are cast off, and the fussy old
animal is allowed to have her own way. The philosophic tourist finds his
companions of the train. The tutor is curled up under the table in the
cabin, which is full of sleepers, lying about in every direction like
great flies who have over-eaten themselves. The distinguished foreigners
have already become pale even at the tranquil heaving of the harbour
tide. The hook-and-eye man and the boy are smoking infamous cheroots,
drinking neat cognac, and making pointless jokes in a loud voice to the
s