perceive a crevice.  “Very well—­all box again to-day,” I say, and give my letter to the master of postes, and go away again at the coach, where I very soon find out what was coach-box, and mount myself upon it.  Then come the coachman, habilitated like the gentleman, and the first word he say was—­“Keephorses!  Bring my box-coat!” and he push up a grand capote with many scrapes.

“But—­never mind,” I say; “I shall see all the boxes in time.”  So he kick his leg upon the board, and cry “cheat!” and we are out into the country in lesser than one minute, and roll at so grand pace, what I have had fear we will be reversed.  But after little times, I take courage, and we begin to entertain together:  but I hear one of the wheels cry squeak, so I tell him, “Sir—­one of the wheel would be greased;” then he make reply, nonchalancely, “Oh—­it is nothing but one of the boxes what is too tight.”  But it is very long time after as I learn that wheel a box was pipe of iron what go turn round upon the axle.

Well—­we fly away at the paces of charge.  I see great castles, many; then come a pretty house of country well ornamented, and I make inquire what it should be.  “Oh;” responsed he, “I not remember the gentleman’s name, but it is what we call a snug country box.”

Then I feel myself abymed at despair, and begin to suspect that he amused himself.  But, still I tell myself, “Well—­never mind; we shall see.”  And then after sometimes, there come another house, all alone in a forest, not ornated at all.  “What, how you call that?” I demand of him.—­“Oh!” he responded again, “That is a shooting box of Lord Killfots.”—­“Oh!” I cry at last out, “that is little too strong;” but he hoisted his shoulders and say nothing.  Well, we come at a house of country, ancient, with the trees cut like some peacocks, and I demand, “What you call these trees?”—­“Box, sir,” he tell me.  “Devil is in the box,” I say at myself.  “But—­never mind; we shall see.”  So I myself refreshed with a pinch of snuff and offer him, and he take very polite, and remark upon an instant, “That is a very handsome box of yours, sir.”

“Morbleu!” I exclaimed with inadvertencyness, but I stop myself.  Then he pull out his snuff-box, and I take a pinch, because I like at home to be sociable when I am out at voyages, and not show some pride with inferior.  It was of wood beautiful with turnings, and colour of yellowish.  So I was pleased to admire very much, and inquire the name of the wood, and again he say, “Box, Sir!” Well—­I hold myself with patience, but it was difficilly; and we keep with great gallop till we come at a great crowd of the people.  Then I say, “What for all so large concourse?” “Oh!” he response again, “there is one grand boxing match—­a battle here to-day.”—­“Peste!” I tell myself, “a battle of boxes!  Well, never mind!  I hope it can be a combat at the outrance, and they all shall destroy one another, for I am fatigued.”