nders were of purely Norman blood. The latter was probably more true
than the former.

[Footnote 35: The celebrated Sir William Draper was once present when the
subject turned on the descent of families, and the changes that names
underwent. "Now my own is a proof of what I say," he continued, with the
intention to put an end to a discourse that was getting to savour of
family pride; "my family being directly derived from King Pepin." "How
do you make that out, Sir William?" "By self-evident orthographical
testimony, as you may see,--Pepin, Pipkin, Napkin, Diaper, Draper."]

As we drew nearer to the coast, the country became more varied.
Montreuil and Samer are both fortified; and one of these places,
standing on an abrupt, rocky eminence, is quite picturesque and quaint.
But we did not stop to look at anything very minutely, pushing forward,
as fast as three horses could draw us, for the end of our journey. A
league or two from Boulogne we were met by a half-dozen mounted runners
from the different inns, each inviting us to give our custom to his
particular employer. These fellows reminded me of the wheat-runners on
the hill at Albany; though they were as much more clamorous and earnest,
as a noisy protestation-making Frenchman is more obtrusive, than a
shrewd, quiet, calculating Yankee. We did not stop in Boulogne to try
how true were the voluble representations of these gentry, but, changing
horses at the post, went our way. The town seemed full of English; and
we gazed about us, with some curiosity, at a place that has become so
celebrated by the great demonstration of Napoleon. There is a high
monument standing at no great distance from the town, to commemorate one
of his military parades. The port is small and crowded, like most of the
harbours on both sides of the Channel.

We had rain, and chills, and darkness, for the three or four posts that
succeeded. The country grew more and more tame, until, after crossing an
extensive plain of moist meadow-land, we passed through the gate of
Calais. I know no place that will give you a more accurate notion of
this celebrated port than Powles Hook. It is, however, necessary to
enlarge the scale greatly, for Calais is a town of some size, and the
hommock on which it stands, and the low land by which it is environed,
are much more considerable in extent than the spot just named.

We drove to the inn that Sterne has immortalised, or one at least that
bears the same name, a