own country, to introduce the habits of an improved district into one that is more backward. A Northumberland farmer, settling in Herefordshire or Salop, will in vain address the na tives on the superiority of his method; the answer in these counties, and, we are sorry to add, throughout most counties in the south or west of England, would be, that "his innovations do not suit their quarter, which can be cultivated only in one way, the way followed by them and their fathers before them." It has often happened, accordingly, that farmers from the north, finding the prejudices of the local workmen insurmountable, have been obliged to send for labourers from their own quar ter. If, then, under the favourable circumstances of identity of language and national feeling, the difficulties in the way. of improvement are so serious, how much more arduous are they likely to prove in a foreign country? Mr. Pinkney appears, accordingly, to speak correctly in saying that a British farmer, settling in France, must in the first instance send to England for all his implements; after which, his French labourers neither can nor will learn the use of them. He must therefore expect the execution of his views only as far as they can be accomplished by the labour of himself and his countrymen ; and it would be easier to teach a Hottentot to write, than a French peasant to acquire this new practice. Moreover, the habits of the consumers in France have become so accommodated to the established course of husbandry, that the improver would, on that account also, be exposed to considerable difficulty. In the culture of turnips, for example, he cannot persevere where he cannot find cattle to eat them; or where he would also be at a loss to find purchasers for the cattle which he may keep; or where, from the openness of the winter, the crop is in dan ger of rotting before it can be consumed. Similar impediments oppose his clover-cultivation; so that, if the French government were disposed to encourage the settlement of foreigners, it would become a serious consideration for the latter, how far it is adviseable for them to seek a French naturalization.

The expence of provisions was a favourite subject of inquiry with Col. Pinkney. We have already noticed the state of markets at Calais, and, it seems, he found them cheaper as he advanced on his journey:

Amiens is still a very cheap town for permanent residence, though the war has very seriously affected it. A good house may be rented for thirty pounds per annum, the taxes upon the mere house being about a louis. Mutton seldom exceeds three-pence, English money, per pound, and beef is usually somewhat cheaper. Poultry of all kinds is in great plenty, and cheap: fowls, ducks, &c. about two shillings per couple. A horse at livery, half a louis per week; two

horses,

Horses, all expences included, a louis and two livres. Board and lodging in a genteel house, five-and-twenty louis annually. Dr. M. agreed with me, that for three hundred a year, a family might keep their carriage and live in comfort, at Amiens and its neighbourhood. I must not forget another observation, the towns in France are cheaper than the villages. The consumption of meat in the latter is not sufficient to induce the butchers to kill often; the market, therefore, is very ill supplied, and consequently the prices are dear. A few miles from a principal town, you cannot have a leg of mutton without paying for the whole sheep. A stranger may live at an inn at Amiens for about five shillings, English money, a day. The wine is good, and very cheap; and a daily ordinary, or table d'hôte, is kept at the Hotel d'Angleterre. Breakfast is charged one livre, dinner three, and supper one half a livre for coffee, and two livres for lodging; but if you remain a week, ten livres for the whole time.'

At Angers, beef and mutton are about 2d. per pound; a fowl 5d.; and turkies, when in season, from 18d. to 2s.; bread is about 1d. a pound; and vegetables, greens, &c. cheap to a degree. A good house in Angers about six Louis per year, and a mansion fit for a prince, (for there are some of them, but without inhabitants,) from forty to fifty Louis, including from thirty to forty acres of land without the walls. I have no doubt but that any one might live at Angers on 250 Louis per annum, as well as in England for four times the amount.'

At Saumur, beef, not very good, that is, not very fat, about 1d. (English) per pound; mutton and veal about zd. ;-two fowls 8d.; two ducks 1od. ; geese and turkies from 1s. 6d. to 2s. 6d. ;-fuel, as much as would serve three fires for the year, about 51.; a house of two stories and garrets, two rooms in front and two in back in each story, such being the manner in which they are built, a passage running through the middle, and the rooms being on each side-such a house, resembling an English parsonage, about five Louis a year; or with a garden, paddock, and orchard, about eight Louis ;-butter 8d. per pound; cheese 4d.; and milk a halfpenny a quart. According to the best estimate I could make, a family, consisting of a man, his wife, and three or four children, two maid-servants, a man-servant, and three horses, might be easily kept at Saumur, and in its neighbourhood, for about 1ool. a year. I am fully persuaded that I am rather over than under the mark. The country immediately about Saumur is as lively and beautiful as the town itself.'—

At Tours there is an excellent market for provisions; I had not the opportunity. of seeing it on the market day, but was informed, in answer to my enquiries, that every article was plentiful, and very cheap. Wood, which is so dear in every other part of France, is here very cheap, the country being overspread with forests, and the river furnishing a ready transportation. Houses are good and cheap the rent of a house, consisting of a ground floor, two stories above, and attics, the windows in front of each floor being from six to eight, with coach-house, stables, garden and orchards, is about zol. English money, the taxes from 11. 1os. to 21., and parish rates about 10s. annually. I should not forget to mention

that

that the gardens are large, sometimes two or three acres, encompassed with high walls and well planted with fruit-trees, and particu larly wall-fruit.'.

Travelling. Posting is nearly as dear in France as in England. A post in France is six miles, and one shilling and threepence is charged for each horse, and sevenpence for the driver. The price, therefore, for two horses would be three shillings and a penny; but whatever number of persons there may be, a horse is charged for each. The postillions, moreover, expect at least double of what the book of regulations allows them as matter of right.'

In substantial provision and accommodation, the French inns are not a whit inferior to English of the same degree: but they are inferior to them in all the minor appendages. In point of eating and drinking the French inns infinitely exceed the English: their provisions are of a better kind, and are much cheaper: we scarcely slept any where, where we could not procure fowls of all kinds, eggs and wine. It is too true, indeed, that their mode of cooking is not very well suited to an English palate; but a very little trouble will remedy this inconvenience. The French cooks are infinitely obliging in this respect-they will take your instructions, and thank you for the honour done them. The dinner, moreover, when served up, will consist of an infinite variety, and that without materially swelling the bill. Add to this the desert, of which an English innkeeper, except in the most expensive hotels, has not a single idea. In France, on the other hand, in the poorest inns, in the most ordinary hedge ale-house, you will have a desert of every fruit in season, and always tastily and even elegantly served. The wine, likewise, is better than what is met with on the roads in England. In the article of beds, with a very few exceptions, the French inns exceed the English: if a traveller carry his sheets with him, he is always secure of an excellent hair mattrass, or if he prefer it, a clean feather-bed. On the other side, the French inns are certainly inferior to the English in their apartments. The bed-room is too often the dining-room. The walls are merely whitewashed, or covered with some execrable pictures. There are no such things as curtains, or at least they are never considered as necessary. There is neither soap, water, nor towel, to cleanse yourself when you rise in the morning. A Frenchman has no idea of washing himself before he breakfasts. The furniture, also, is always in the worst possible condition. We were often puzzled to contrive a tolerable table: the one in most common use is composed of planks laid across two stools or benches. The chairs are usually of oak, with perpendicular backs. There are no bells, and the attendants are more frequently male than female, though this practice is gradually going out of vogue, There is a great change, moreover, of late years, in the civility of the landlords; they will now acknowledge their obligations to you, and not, as formerly, treat you as intruders. To sum up the comparison between a French and English provincial inn, the expences for the same kind of treatment, allowing only for the national differences, are about one-fourth of what they would be in England. In the course of our tour, we were repeatedly detained for days to

gether

gether at some of the inns on the road, and our whole suite, amount. ing to seven in number, never cost us more than at the rate of an English guinea a day. In England, I am confident it would have

been four times the sum.'

The condition of the peasantry, in the different provinces through which he passed, appears to have engaged a considerable share of Mr. Pinkney's attention. The performance of the hardest field-labour by the women, their exposure to the weather, and their premature loss of youthful looks, all of which he describes, might have been deemed consequences of the revolutionary wars, and of the drain of young men by forced levies, had not the same facts been open to observation under the antient monarchy. The peasant-women in France work,' he says, so hard as to lose every appearance of youth in the face, while they retain it in the person; and it is therefore no uncommon thing to see the person of a Venus and the face of an old monkey.' In Picardy, he found the rate of wages, in the harvest season, for the hay-field, Is. 6d. sterling a day; and for mowing, 25. Id., with two bottles of cyder: women had 7d. a day and their victuals. In the Touraine, provisions being cheaper, the wages of the countryman are somewhat lower, and may be called a shilling all the year through, with an allowance of three pints of the wine of the country. The greater part of the peasantry have a cow, and a small slip of land. In regard to sustenance, chesnuts, grapes, and onions, are to the poor in France what potatoes are in Ireland; the breakfast consisting generally of bread and fruit, the dinner of bread and boiled onions, with the addition sometimes of a pound of meat; and the supper is composed of bread, milk, and chesnuts. Towards the middle and south of France, the cottages are generally without glass in the windows, the mildness and dryness of the weather rendering it unnecessary. We are apt,' says the traveller, to judge of the comfort of others, by circumstances peculiarly belonging to ourselves. Tell an English peasant that a Frenchman has neither glass to his windows, nor sheets to his bed, and he will conclude him to be miserable in the extreme. On the other hand, tell a French peasant, that an English rustic never tastes a glass of wine once in seven years, and he will equally pity an Englishman.' The vignerons of the Loire are, according to Mr. Pinkney, more cleanly in their method of bruising grapes than their southern neighbours of Spain and Portugal; being in the habit of using wooden pestles, instead of the rude and primitive custom of treading them under foot.

As to the progress of improvement in the country-towns of France, it bears by no means so near an approach to that of the

14

capital

capital as in England. While at Paris workmanship is carried on with the greatest nicety, the blacksmiths, the carpenters, and other artisans throughout the country are wretched. The things in common use,' says the author, are execrable: not a window that shuts close, not a door that fits; every thing clumsy, rough hewn, and as if made by Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday. Much less bustle of travelling also prevails in France than in England. From Boulogne to Abbeville, a single cart and a waggon were the only vehicles seen by Col. Pinkney; and on leaving Paris, he had scarcely reached the first stage, (about seven miles,) when every appendage of a great city disappeared, and the scenery and objects were as retired as in one of our remotest counties. These were the remarks of English travellers in former days; and the Revolution, though it has greatly increased the population of the French capital, does not seem to have much augmented its intercourse with the country. Hence the manners, habits, and dress of Paris, are in a great measure confined to that metropolis, and every province still remains marked by its antient characteristics. Their country-houses are, accordingly, in a very different style from ours.

In the ordinary construction of a French chateau, there is a greater consumption of wood than brick, and no sparing of ground. It is usually a rambling building, with a body, wings, and again wings upon those wings; and flanked on each side with a pigeonhouse, stables, and barns, the pigeon-house being on the right, and the barns and stables on the left. The decorations are infinitely beneath contempt; painted weather cocks and copper turrets, and even the paint apparently as ancient as the chateau. The windows are numerous, but even in the best chateaus there is strange neglect as to the broken glass; sometimes they are left as broken, but more frequently patched with paper, coloured silk, or even stuffed with linen. The upper tier of windows, even in the front of the house, is usually ornamented with the clothes of the family hanging out to dry, a piece of slovenliness and ill taste for which there can assuredly be no excuse in the country, where there is surely room enough for this part of household business. Upon the whole, the appearance of a French chateau, in the old style, resembles one of those deserted houses which are sometimes seen in England, where the plaister has been peeled or is peeling off, and where every boy that passes throws his stone at the windows. The pleasure-grounds attached to the chateau, very exactly correspond with its style: the chateau is usually built in the worst possible scite of the whole estate. It generally stands in some meadow or lawn, and precisely in that part of it which is the natural drain of the whole, and where, if there was no house, there would necessarily be an horse pond. A grand avenue, planted on each side with noble trees, leads up to the house, but is usually so overgrown with moss

and