Dover, he said, because they hated to be imposed upon; and were in high spirits at coming to Calais, where they had been told that a little money would go a great way. There, upon stepping ashore from the ship, and landing two little trunks, which was all they carried with them, they were surprised to see fourteen or fifteen fellows all rushing down to the ship to lay their hands upon them: 'four got under each trunk, the rest surrounded and held

'the hasps;' and in this manner their little baggage was conducted with a kind of funeral solemnity, till it was safely lodged at the custom-house. However, this might be a fault on the side of over-politeness, and they were well enough pleased with the civility till the people came to be paid; when every creature that had the happiness of but touching our trunks with their finger expected sixpence, and had so pretty and civil a manner of demanding it, 'that there was no refusing them.' When they had done with the porters, they had next to speak with the customhouse officers, 'who had their pretty civil way too.' Then they were directed to the Hotel d'Angleterre, where a valet de place came to offer his service, and spoke to me 'ten minutes before I once found out that he was speaking English.' They had no occasion for his services, however;

6

so

they gave him a little money 'because he spoke English, ' and because he wanted it.' Goldsmith added that he could not help mentioning another circumstance. He had bought a new ribbon for his wig at Canterbury, and the barber at Calais broke it in order to gain sixpence by buying him a new one.

This was not a very promising beginning; but the party, continuing to carry with them the national enjoyment of scolding everything they met with, passed on through Flanders, and to Paris by way of Lisle. The latter city was the scene of an incident afterwards absurdly misrelated. Standing at the window of their hotel to see a company of soldiers in the square, the beauty of the sisters Horneck

drew such marked admiration, that Goldsmith, with that assumption of solemnity to heighten drollery which was generally a point in his humour, and was often very solemnly misinterpreted, turned off from the window with the remark that elsewhere he, too, could have his admirers. The Jessamy Bride was asked about the occurrence not many years ago; remembered it as a playful jest; and said how shocked she had subsequently been 'to see it adduced in print as a proof of his envious disposition.' The readers of Boswell will remember that it is so related by him. 'When accompanying two beautiful young ladies on a 'tour in France, he was seriously angry that more attention was paid to them than to him!'

At Lisle another letter to Reynolds was begun, but laid aside because everything they had seen was so dull that the description would not be worth reading. Nor had matters much improved when they got to Paris. Alas! he had discovered a change in himself since he traversed those scenes with only his youth and his poverty for companions. Lying in a barn was no disaster then. Then, there were no postilions to quarrel with, no landladies to be cheated by, no silk coat to tempt him into making himself look like a fool. The world was his oyster in those days, which with his flute he opened. He expressed all this very plainly in a letter to Reynolds soon after their arrival, dated from Paris on the 29th of July. He is anxious to get back to what Gibbon, when he became a member of the Club, called the relish of manly conversation, and the society of the

brown table. He is getting nervous about his arrears of work. He dares not think of another holiday yet, though Reynolds had proposed, on his return, a joint excursion into Devonshire. He is already planning new labour. He is even thinking of another comedy; and therefore glad that Colman's suit in Chancery has ended in confirming his right as acting manager (the whole quarrel was made up the following year by Mr. Harris's quarrel with Mrs. Lesingham). But here is the letter: as printed by Mr. Prior, from the original in possession of Mr. Singer.

"MY DEAR FRIEND, I began a long letter to you from Lisle giving a description of all that we had done and seen, but finding it very dull, and knowing that you would show it again, I threw it aside and it was lost. You see by the top of this letter that we are at Paris, and (as I have often heard you say) we have brought our own amusement with us, for the ladies do not seem to be very fond of what we have yet seen.. With regard to myself I find that travelling at twenty and at forty are very different things. I set out with all my confirmed habits about me and can find nothing on the Continent so good as when I formerly left it. One of our chief amusements here is scolding at every thing we meet with and praising every thing and every person we left at home. You may judge therefore whether your name is not frequently bandied at table among us. To tell you the truth I never thought I could regret your absence so much as our various mortifications on the road have often taught me to do. I could tell you of disasters and adventures without number, of our lying in barns, and of my being half poisoned with a dish of green peas, of our quarrelling with postilions and being cheated by our landladies, but I reserve all this for an happy hour which I expect to share with you upon my return. . I have little to

tell you more but that we are at present all well, and expect returning when we have staid out one month, which I should not care if it were over this very day. I long to hear from you all how you yourself do, how Johnson, Burke, Dyer, Chamier, Colman, and every one of the Club do. I wish I could send you some amusement in this letter, but I protest I am so stupified by the air of this country (for I am sure it can never be natural) that I have not a word to say. I have been thinking of the plot of a comedy which shall be entitled A Journey to Paris, in which a family shall be introduced with a full intention of going to France to save money. You know there is not a place in the world more promising for that purpose. As for the meat of this country I can scarce eat it, and though we pay two good shillings an head for our dinner, I find it all so tough, that I have spent less time with my knife than my picktooth. I said this as a good thing at table, but it was not understood. I believe it to be a good thing.. As for our intended journey to Devonshire I find it out of my power to perform it, for, as soon as I arrive at Dover I intend to let the ladies go on, and I will take a country lodging somewhere near that place in order to do some business. I have so outrun the constable, that I must mortify a little to bring it up again. For God's sake the night you receive this take your pen in your hand and tell me something about yourself, and myself, if you know of any thing that has happened. About Miss Reynolds, about Mr. Bickerstaff, my nephew, or any body that you regard. I beg you will send to Griffin the bookseller to know if there be any letters left for me, and be so good as to send them to me at Paris. They may perhaps be left for me at the Porter's Lodge opposite the pump in Temple Lane. The same messenger will do. I expect one from Lord Clare from Ireland. As for others I am not much uneasy about.. Is there any thing I can do for you at Paris? I wish you would tell me. The whole of my own purchases here, is one silk coat which I have put on, and which makes me look like a fool. But no