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was written, we set out in a treckscuit for Rotterdam, where, after a voyage of twenty-four hours easy sail, we arrived without any accident, notwithstanding some struggle between an adverse wind and the horse that drew us. We stayed there only one day, and next day set out for the Hague, a most beautiful village, the seat of the prince of Orange, and the residence of most of the principal Dutch. Yesterday we left it, and on going aboard found four inhabitants of Rouen, and acquaintances of my old friend Du Pont. We were extremely amused with one of them, a little thing about four feet long, and for the first time in his life a traveller. He admired the abundance of the waters, the beauty of the windmills, and the great opulence of Holland, which he thought easy to be accounted for, considering that strangers paid a penny a mile for travelling, which was double what a French gentleman was obliged to pay at home; nor could it otherwise be possible for so many individuals to indulge in the splendour of so many country villas as we saw ranged along the banks of the canals, almost every one of which had a garden and a menagerie annexed to it. The idea of the menagerie he caught at the instant from a large poultry coop, which he espied at the front of one of those little boxes, and which contained half a dozen of turkeys and as many hens.

The evening, yesterday, brought us to Amsterdam.

We had an interpreter who spoke no language. We knew not, under Heaven, where to go; spoke in vain to every fellow passenger, but got nothing in return but Dutch; among the rest

to a person in whom, notwithstanding the smoke, I thought I saw something of English. At length he came up to me, and said he could hold out no longer. He directed us to an inn; said he sometimes amused himself with concealing his country, and that once at Rotterdam he carried on the joke for five days, to the great annoyance of some unfortunate Englishmen, who knew nobody, and dined every day at the table d'hôte he frequented. Last night we saw a French comedy and opera tolerably performed. This day we spent in viewing the port, stadt-house, &c. and shall depart to-morrow for Rotterdam or Utrecht, on our way to Antwerp.

You cannot expect much observation from a visiter of a day: the impression however, of a stranger cannot be favourable to the people.They have a strange appearance of the cleanliness for which they are famous, and of the dirt that makes it necessary: their outsides only have I seen, and I am satisfied abundantly with that. Never shall I wish to return to a country, that is at best dreary and unhealthy, and is no longer the seat of freedom; yet of its arbitrariness I have felt nothing more than the necessity of wearing an orange riband in my hat. My next will be from Spa, where I shall hope days: till then farewell.

to

be in six or seven Yours ever,

VOL. VI.

TT

J. P. C.

MR. CURRAN TO HIS SON, RICHARD CURRAN.

Paris, October 5, 1802.

DEAR RICHARD, HERE I am, after having lingered six or seven days very unnecessarily in London. I don't know that even the few days that I can spend here will not be enough-sickness, long and gloomy - convalescence, disturbed by various paroxysms-relapse confirmed-the last a spectacle soon seen and painfully dwelt upon. I shall stay here yet a few days. There are some to whom I have introductions that I have not seen. I don't suppose I shall get myself presented to the consul. Not having been privately baptized at St. James's would be a difficulty; to get over it a favour; and then the trouble of getting one's self costumed for the show; and then the small value of being driven, like the beasts of the field before Adam when he named them;-I think I sha'n't mind it. The character of this place is wonderfully different from that of London. I think I can say, without affectation, that I miss the frivolous elegance of the old times before the revolution, and that in the place of it I see a squalid beard-grown, vulgar vivacity; but still it is vivacity, infinitely preferable to the frozen and awkward sulk that I have left. Here they certainly wish to be happy, and think that by being merry they are so. I dined yesterday with Mr. Fox, and went in the evening to Tivoli, a great, planted, illuminated garden, where all the bourgeoisie of Paris, and some of a better description, went to see a balloon go up. The aeronaut

was to have ascended with a smart girl, his bonne amie; for some reason that I know not, some one went up in her place; she was extremely mortified; the balloon rose, diminished, vanished into night; no one could guess what might be its fate, and the poor dear one danced the whole evening to shake off her melancholy.

I am glad I am come here. I entertained many ideas of it, which I have entirely given up, or very much indeed altered. Never was there a scene that could furnish more to the weeping or the grinning philosopher; they might well agree that human affairs were a sad joke. I see it every where and in every thing. The wheel has run a complete round; only changed some spokes and a few "felloes," very little for the better, but the axle certainly has not rusted-nor do I see any likelihood of its rusting. At present all is quiet except the tongue, thanks to those invaluable protectors of peace-the army!! At Tivoli last night we had at least a hundred soldiers, with fixed bayonets. The consul now lives at St. Cloud, in a magnificence, solitary, but still fitting his marvellous fortune. He is very rarely seen-he travels by night—is indefatigable -has no favourite, &c.

As to the little affairs at the Priory *, I can scarcely condescend, after a walk in the Louvre, amid the spirit of those arts which were inspired by freedom, and have been transmitted to power, to think of so poor a subject. I hope to get a letter from you in London, at Osborne's, Adelphi. Many of the Irish are here,-not of consequence Mr. Curran's country seat, near Dublin,

to be in danger: I have merely heard of them. Yesterday I met Arthur O'Connor in the street, with Lord and Lady Oxford. Her ladyship very kindly pressed me to dine; but I was engaged. I had bargained for a cabriolet, to go and see my poor gossip. Set out at two: at the end of five miles found I was totally misdirected-returned to St. Denys-got a miserable dinner, and was fleeced as usual. I had some vengeance of the rascal, however, by deploring the misery of a country where a stranger had nothing for his dinner but a bill. You feel a mistake in chronology in the two "yesterdays;' but, in fact, part of this was written yesterday, and the latter part now. I need not desire you to hid any one remember me; but tell them I remember them.Say how Eliza does. Tell Amelia and Sarah I do not forget them. God bless you all.

J. P. C.

MR. CURRAN TO LEONARD M'NALLY, ESQ.

DUBLIN.

Godwin's, 41, Skinner Street, London.

A

DEAR MAC, I GOT the cover yesterday, thinking to write a very long wise letter to you; now, I have only the few moments that G.'s griskin takes to be burnt. Poor Tooke is, I fear, at his last. singular man! One glory he has eminently-he has been highly valued by many good men of his day, and persecuted by almost every scoundrel that united the power with the will to do

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