fifty-four miles from Havre.
I inquired after news, and particularly from England; to which his reply was, tout est tranquille,—his idea of news seeming to resolve itself into the question of peace or war.
Still in Havre Roads, and anchored within three miles of the city.
Adverse winds have disappointed our expectations, and doomed us to a longer imprisonment.
The city may be dimly descried beneath a heavy mist; but every thing is so indistinct that I cannot form any definite idea of its size or general appearance.
To-night I sleep on the waters of France.
He wrote to his sister Mary, the 27th, giving an account of the voyage, and expressing a brother's interest in her studies:—
Dec. 28, 1837.
At length in Havre
, with antiquity staring at me from every side.
At four o'clock this morning weighed anchor, and drifted with the tide and a gentle wind to the docks; a noble work, contrived for the reception of vessels, and bearing the inscription of An IX.
er Consul,—the labor of this great man meeting me on the very threshold of France
Dismissed from the custom house we went to the Hotel
de New York, where a smiling French woman received us, and we were shown each of us to a chamber.
The house was small and narrow, and the stairs composed of tiles; but the chamber into which I was conducted harmonized with my anticipations of a French apartment.
The room was of moderate size, with a floor of hexagon tiles partially covered with a neat rug-like carpet; with a bed plump and neat as imagination could picture, with a crimson coverlet and curtains; with curtains to the window of linen with a border of red, and with two engravings in the room of some of the glorious scenes of the French Republic
The whole was un-American.
I should have known that I was in a foreign place, even if the reality of a sea-voyage had not given me the completest assurance of it. My apartment taken, for which I am to pay three francs per day, I at once escaped to view the city.
And here I felt a