The people of Artois are said to be highly superstitious, and we have already passed a number of small chapels and crosses, erected by the road side, and surrounded by tufts of trees.  These are the inventions of a mistaken piety; yet they are not entirely without their use, and I cannot help regarding them with more complacence than a rigid Protestant might think allowable.  The weary traveller here finds shelter from a mid-day sun, and solaces his mind while he reposes his body.  The glittering equipage rolls by—­he recalls the painful steps he has past, anticipates those which yet remain, and perhaps is tempted to repine; but when he turns his eye on the cross of Him who has promised a recompence to the sufferers of this world, he checks the sigh of envy, forgets the luxury which excited it, and pursues his way with resignation.  The Protestant religion proscribes, and the character of the English renders unnecessary, these sensible objects of devotion; but I have always been of opinion, that the levity of the French in general would make them incapable of persevering in a form of worship equally abstracted and rational.  The Spaniards, and even the Italians, might abolish their crosses and images, and yet preserve their Christianity; but if the French ceased to be bigots, they would become atheists.

This is a small fortified town, though not of strength to offer any resistance to artillery.  Its proximity to the frontier, and the dread of the Austrians, make the inhabitants very patriotic.  We were surrounded by a great croud of people on our arrival, who had some suspicion that we were emigrating; however, as soon as our passports were examined and declared legal, they retired very peaceably.

The approach of the enemy keeps up the spirit of the people, and, notwithstanding their dissatisfaction at the late events, they have not yet felt the change of their government sufficiently to desire the invasion of an Austrian army.—­Every village, every cottage, hailed us with the cry of Vive la nation!  The cabaret invites you to drink beer a la nation, and offers you lodging a la nation—­the chandler’s shop sells you snuff and hair powder a la nation—­and there are even patriotic barbers whose signs inform you, that you may be shaved and have your teeth drawn a la nation!  These are acts of patriotism one cannot reasonably object to; but the frequent and tedious examination of one’s passports by people who can’t read, is not quite so inoffensive, and I sometimes lose my patience.  A very vigilant Garde Nationale yesterday, after spelling my passport over for ten minutes, objected that it was not a good one.  I maintained that it was; and feeling a momentary importance at the recollection of my country, added, in an assuring tone, "Et d’ailleurs je suis Anglaise et par consequent libre d’aller ou bon me semble.*” The man stared, but admitted my argument, and we passed on.

     "Besides, I am a native of England, and, consequently, have a right
     to go where I please.”