and it is a hard matter to get more than eight miles out of
them without breaking into a gallop, or more than ten, if put under the
whip. Now, a short time previously to leaving home, I went eleven
measured miles, in a public coach, in two minutes less than an hour, the
whip untouched. I sat on the box, by the side of the driver, and know
that this was done under a pull that actually disabled one of his arms,
and that neither of the four animals broke its trot. It is not often our
roads will admit of this, but, had we the roads of England, I make
little doubt we should altogether outdo her in speed. As for the horses
used here in the public conveyances, and for the post routes, they are
commonly compact, clumsy beasts, with less force than their shape would
give reason to suppose. Their manes are long and shaggy, the fetlocks
are rarely trimmed, the shoes are seldom corked, and, when there is a
little coquetry, the tail is braided. In this trim, with a coarse
harness, that is hardly ever cleaned, traces of common rope, and half
the time no blinkers or reins, away they scamper, with their heads in
all directions, like the classical representation of a team in an
ancient car, through thick and thin, working with all their might to do
two posts within an hour, one being the legal measure. These animals
appear to possess a strange _bonhomie_, being obedient, willing and
tractable, although, in the way of harness and reins, they are pretty
much their own masters.

My excursions in the environs have made me acquainted with a great
variety of modes of communication between the capital and its adjacent,
villages. Although Paris is pared down so accurately, and is almost
without suburbs, the population, within a circuit of ten miles in each
direction, is almost equal to that of Paris itself. St. Denis has
several thousands, St. Germain the same, and Versailles is still a town
of considerable importance. All these places, with villages out of
number, keep up daily intercourse with the city, and in addition to the
hundreds of vegetable carts that constantly pass to and fro, there are
many conveyances that are exclusively devoted to passengers. The
cheapest and lowest is called a _coucou_ for no reason that I can see,
unless it be that a man looks very like a fool to have a seat in one of
them. They are large cabriolets, with two and even three seats. The
wheels are enormous, and there is commonly a small horse harnessed by
the si