delighted me so much, as to see an Englishman (at least a Briton) absolute at Paris, I mean Mr Law, who treats their dukes and peers extremely de haut en bas, and is treated by them with the utmost submission and respect.—­Poor souls!—­This reflection on their abject slavery, puts me in mind of the place des victoires; but I will not take up your time, and my own, with such descriptions, which are too numerous.

IN general, I think Paris has the advantage of London, in the neat pavement of the streets, and the regular lighting of them at nights, in the proportion of the streets, the houses being all built of stone, and most of those belonging to people of quality being beautified by gardens.  But we certainly may boast of a town very near twice as large; and when I have said that, I know nothing else we surpass it in.  I shall not continue here long; if you have any thing to command me during my short stay, write soon, and I shall take pleasure in obeying you.  I am, &c. &c.

LET.  LI.

TO THE ABBOT ——.

Dover, Oct. 31.  O. S. 1718.

I AM willing to take your word for it, that I shall really oblige you, by letting you know, as soon as possible, my safe passage over the water.  I arrived this morning at Dover, after being tossed a whole night in the packet-boat, in so violent a manner, that the master, considering the weakness of his vessel, thought it proper to remove the mail, and give us notice of the danger.  We called a little fishing boat, which could hardly make up to us; while all the people on board us were crying to Heaven.  ’Tis hard to imagine one’s self in a scene of greater horror than on such an occasion:  and yet, shall I own it to you? though I was not at all willingly to be drowned, I could not forbear being entertained at the double distress of a fellow-passenger.  She was an English lady that I had met at Calais, who desired me to let her go over with me in my cabin.  She had bought a fine point-head, which she was contriving to conceal from the custom-house officers.  When the wind grew high, and our little vessel cracked, she fell very heartily to her prayers, and thought wholly of her soul.  When it seemed to abate, she returned to the worldly care of her head-dress, and addressed herself to me—­"Dear madam, will you take care of this point? if it should be “lost!—­Ah, Lord, we shall all be lost!—­Lord have mercy on my “soul!—­Pray, madam, take care of this head-dress." This easy transition from her soul to her head-dress, and the alternate agonies that both gave her, made it hard to determine which she thought of greatest value.  But, however, the scene was not so diverting, but I was glad to get rid of it, and be thrown into the little boat, though with some hazard of breaking my neck.  It brought me safe hither; and I cannot help looking with partial eyes on my native land.  That partiality was certainly given us by nature, to prevent rambling,