The next towns we passed were Pevige and Vienne, the latter only five leagues from this city.  It is a very ancient town, and was formerly a Roman colony.  The cathedral is a large and noble Gothic structure, and in it is a fine tomb of Cardinal Mountmoin, said to be equal in workmanship to Richlieu’s in the Sorbonne, but said to be so, by people no ways qualified to judge properly; it is indeed an expensive but a miserable performance, when put in competition with the works of Girrardeau.  About half a mile without the town is a noble pyramidal Roman monument, said to have stood in the center of the Market-place, in the time of the Romans.  There is also to be seen in this town, a Mosaic pavement discovered only a few years since, wonderfully beautiful indeed, and near ten feet square, though not quite perfect, being broken in the night by some malicious people, out of mere wantonness, soon after it was discovered.

At this town I was recommended to the Table Round; but as there are two, the grande and the petit, I must recommend you to the petit where I was obliged to move; for, of all the dreadful women I ever came near, Madam Rousillion has the least mellifluous notes; her ill behaviour, however, procured me the honour of a very agreeable acquaintance, the Marquis DeValan, who made me ashamed, by shewing us an attention we had no right to expect; but this is one, among many other agreeable circumstances, which attend strangers travelling in France.  French gentlemen never see strangers ill treated, without standing forth in their defence; and I hope English gentlemen will follow their example, because it is a piece of justice due to strangers, in whatever country they are, or whatever country they are from; it is doing as one would be done by.  That prejudice which prevails in England, even among some people of fashion, against the French nation is illiberal, in the highest degree; nay, it is more, it is a national disgrace.—­When I recollect with what ease and uninterruption I have passed through so many great and little towns, and extensive provinces, without a symptom of wanton rudeness being offered me, I blush to think how a Frenchman, if he made no better figure than I did, would have been treated in a tour through Britain.—­My Monkey, with a pair of French jack boots, and his hair en queue, rode postillion upon my sturdy horse some hours every day; such a sight, you may be sure, brought forth old and young, sick and lame, to look at him and his master. Jocko put whole towns in motion, but never brought any affront on his master; they came to look and to laugh, but not to deride or insult.  The post-boys, it is true, did not like to see their fraternity taken off, in my little Theatre; but they seldom discovered it, but by a grave salutation; and sometimes a good humoured fellow called him comrade, and made