The moon struggled through a murky sky, after the cessation of rain, as we entered Saudrupt:  which is little better than a miserable village.  Travellers seldom or never sleep here; but we had gone a very considerable distance since five in the morning, and were glad of any thing in the shape of beds.  Not an inn in Normandy which we had visited, either by day or by night, seemed to be more sorry and wretched than this, where we—­stretched our limbs, rather than partook of slumber.  At one in the morning, a young and ardent lover chose to serenade his mistress, who was in the next house, with a screaming tune upon a half-cracked violin—­which, added to the never-ceasing smacking of whips of farmers, going to the next market town—­ completed our state of restlessness and misery.  Yet, the next morning, we had a breakfast ... so choice, so clean, and so refreshing—­in a place of all others the least apparently likely to afford it—­that we almost fancied our strength had been recruited by a good night’s sleep.  The landlord could not help his miserable mansion, for he was very poor:  so I paid him cheerfully and liberally for the accommodation he was capable of affording, and at nine o’clock left Saudrupt in the hope of a late dinner at NANCY—­ the capital of Lorraine.

The morning was fresh and fair.  In the immediate neighbourhood of Saudrupt is the pretty village of Brillon, where I noticed some stone crosses; and where I observed that particular species of domestic architecture, which, commencing almost at Longchamps, obtains till within nearly three stages of Strasbourg.  It consists in having rather low or flat roofs, in the Italian manner, with all the beams projecting outside of the walls:  which gives it a very unfinished and barbarous look.  And here too I began to be more and more surprised at the meagreness of the population of the country.  Even on quitting Epernay, I had noticed it to my companion.  The human beings you see, are chiefly females—­ill-featured, and ill complexioned—­ working hard beneath the rays of a scorching sun.  As to that sabbath-attire of cleanliness, even to smartness among our own country people, it is a thing very rarely to be seen in the villages of France.  At Brillon, we bought fine cherries, of a countrywoman for two sous the pound.

Bar-le Duc is the next post-town.  It is a place of considerable extent and population:  and is divided into the upper and lower town.  The approach to it, along hilly passes, covered with vineyards, is pleasant enough.  The driver wished to take us to the upper town—­to see the church of St. Peter, wherein is contained “a skeleton perforated with worm-holes, which was the admiration of the best connoisseurs.”  We civilly declined such a sight, but had no objection to visit the church.  It was a Saint’s day:  and the interior of the church was crowded to excess by women and lads.  An old priest was giving his admonition from the high altar, with great propriety