is an air of life and gayety about it, not very common in the provincial towns of France. Indeed, we could not but notice the almost total absence of life and activity in the several places through which we had passed, as affording by no means a favourable indication of the improved state of things in the provinces. There was an air of gloom and desertion pervading them. The houses had a cheerless and neglected appearance. No one was seen in the streets-they looked as if deserted by their population, or inhabited by a people who never went abroad. The smacking of the postillion's whip, indeed, brought a few people together at the door of the post-house, but these were chiefly women, old men, and children, who seemed to have nothing else to employ their time, and no other mode of subsistence than from the precarious charity they obtained of travellers. The roads have been as much deserted as the towns. Here and there we saw a few people, chiefly women, in the fields; but the visible population, even the sprinkling of towns and villages, such as they are, was extremely thin for the extent of country,

We had heard much, before we left Paris, of the perturbed state of the provinces; and, indeed, we were warned not to attempt travelling through them, till order was in some degree restored: and we learned upon the road, that we were the first party that had passed that way for ten days. We found, however, as we suspected, that the reports had been greatly exaggerated. There had been, indeed, so ne little disturbance at Sens, owing to the high price of

bread, but it was immediately quelled, and all was perfectly tranquil. The appearance of a gendarme or two upon the road, was the only indication of a state of revolt, as they called it, we met with, and we passed unmolested, and with perfect ease, by all the dangers of which the Parisians warned us.

Although they are at present suffering much, as the poor in England are, from the failure of the last harvest, yet the general condition of the peasantry in France, has undoubtedly been much bettered by the revolution. The feudal tenures are abolished, with all the enormous cruelties and oppressions that followed in their train-while tythes and game laws have no existence here. By the sale of the church lands, and the estates of the refugees, the soil became more equally divided. The poorer classes were purchasers of from one to ten acres, and upon these small portions are enabled to live with tolerable comfort, in part supported by their own little farms, and in part by the produce of the work which they perform for others. There existed, prior to the revolution, a sort of tax called the Corvées, by which the people were obliged to repair the roads by their own personal labour. This was a most oppressive imposition in itself, and was often greatly abused by those who had the peasantry under their control. There was also the military Corvée, by which the inhabitants of the villages through which troops marched were obliged, at whatever expense of inconvenience and toil, to repair the roads along which they were to travel. This mark of despotism is wiped away. The roads are now in the hands of

sure.

the government, and they mend them at their pleaThe consequence is, however, that while the main roads which are travelled by the mails and frequented by the great, are kept in good repair, the rest are in a lamentable state. But this is a trifling evil compared with the oppression and tyranny involved in the former system.

There was a singular mode of tenure prevalent before the revolution, which is now also done away. The proprietor and the farmer entered into a sort of partnership concern. The former found the land, with the stock, the seed, and the implements of husbandry, while the latter furnished the requisite labour; and the produce, except what was necessary to keep up the stock, was equally divided between them. This compact, though it may look well to the eye, at first sight, yet, on minuter inspection, will be found to indicate a most melancholy and depressed state of things at that period. For the poor farmer, without any capital of his own, was wholly dependant on the will and caprice of his superior in the firm, and liable to be turned pennyless upon the world at his pleasure. But this system is also abolished, and what the farmer now cultivates is either his own personal property, or his by a money rental, so that he is unfettered in his plans of improvement, and is encouraged by the prospect of reaping the undivided produce of his labour.

There are no poor's rates in France. This method of providing for the poor was suggested in one of the reports drawn up by the committee appointed to inquire into the state of the poor, at the time of the

麥

revolution, but it was rejected by the National Assembly. The support of the poor is somewhat precarious. In large towns there are hospitals for the sick and aged poor, and these are chiefly supported by a toll laid on all provisions entering the town. But in the country places there are no such asylums, and the support of the indigent is less certain. We have seen many beggars on the road, but certainly not so many as I expected, and by no means so many as besiege the traveller in Ireland; such as there are, are chiefly old men and children. The most troublesome fellows are the boys, who surround you whenever you leave your carriage or your inn, each eager to become your guide, to the cathedral, or other objects of curiosity in the place, which they run over with great rapidity. Whether you wish for their assistance or not, they continue to pursue you, and it is almost impossible to get a walk in any direction through a town, without some of these pests at your heels. Your's, &c.

AUXONNE.

149

LETTER XVIII.

Geneva.

MY DEAR

It was a lovely morning when we left Dijon, and the road presented a more animated scene than we had witnessed in any previous part of our route. This compensated for the insipidity of the country, which it flat and open, and with little variety to relieve the eye, though in a high state of cultivation, and smiling with the promise of an abundant autumn. We passed many groupes of cheerful peasantry repairing to the town, and many waggons, of a curious structure, heavily laden, and drawn by horses, as curiously yoked to the carriage and to each other.

Approaching to Auxonne, the number of people on the road increased, and we observed a considerable difference both in their costume and their complexion, particularly in the women. Their faces were extremely brown, and to defend themselves from the scorching sun, they had an enormous kind of white beaver hat, of very coarse materials, but of immense dimensions, broader than the hats of the Chinese, and to the full as capacious as that of any coal-heaver in London. They cut a curious figure thus attired about the head; and, together with the cocked-hats of the men, which most tenaciously retain two peaks only, out of the three, that give it ra