1828.] A Cheap Journey. 943. 
anything about you which you do not actually carry on your back, or in 
_ your pocket. An umbrella is a load for two, and it is by chance if two 
more do not divide your travelling cap between them !—Finally, it is the 
business of a host of custom-house officers to see that you and your train 
of helpers do not take a step to the right hand, or to the left, in your 
progress, till you are all fairly housed in the filthy den, which they 
dignify by the style and title of “ Douanes Royales.” 
Among tke numerous hotels of Calais—more in number than in any 
other town of its size in Europe, and upon the whole better adapted 
respectively to the wants and habits of the persons who frequent them— 
we shall, having our traveller entirely at our mercy, give him the choice 
of two only—the snug little Hotel de l’Europe, in the Rue Royale, and 
the Hotel de la Couronne (half a step higher in grade), situated close to 
one of the gates of the port. Calais, though not including a single indi- 
vidual object of particular interest, is well worth a few hours’ general 
examination—especially as the first foreign town at which our traveller 
arrives. But he will do well to defer this till to-morrow—merely 
attending to his personal comforts to-night, by ordering a good dinner 
(which, as he will not get it till seven o’clock, he may, as a first approach 
to foreign habits, call a supper), and then seeing to the comforts of his 
bed-room, toilet, &c. If he is not a long sitter after dinner, he cannot- 
do better than finish the evening by passing an hour or so of it at 
the theatre—not, however, without having first sipped his cup of café 
noir immediately after his fruit—which he will find one of the most 
_ agreeable, as well as healthful, of French dinner-table habits. 
Turspay.—Having taken his place in one of the afternoon diligences 
for Dunkerque, our traveller will spend the rest of the day in walking 
through the various streets of Calais; visiting the port and pier ; getting a 
sight (if he can) of the tribe of “ fine animals” (as Mr. O’Connel would 
call them) who get their pittance of black bread and dried cod-fish, by 
catching shrimps on the sands; making the tour of the ramparts ; 
entering the church; examining the shops; taking a glance at the 
various hotels ; looking in at one or two of the best appointed cafés ; 
and, if his dinner and time of departure permit, wandering here and 
_ there outside some of the gates, to get an unintelligible notion of the 
fortifications which shut in this lively and pleasant little town. At either 
three or five o’clock he will quit Calais by the Basse-Ville, having pre- 
viously paid, for his various accommodations since his arrival yesterday 
afternoon, the sum of twelve shillings, English money. This is, without 
exception, the dearest bill he will have to pay during his journey, in 
erate to the accommodations he will receive in return; for Calais 
is the dearest provincial town in all France, and its hotels especially ; 
and moreover, its authorities, in consequence of the unrivalled advantages 
of its situation, are enabled to exact dues for luggage, passport, &c., 
which are not demanded elsewhere. 
Quitting Calais at 5, p.m., our traveller will reach Dunkerque at about 
-past ten, passing through Gravelines in his route—a town remark- 
able for nothing but its dead and desolate appearance, and for the open 
effrontery (as it will seem to an English traveller) with which its in- 
habitants pursue their almost exclusive occupation of smuggling. He 
will probably observe, in passing through the principal street, piles of 
spirit kegs, with each a large paving-stone attached to it by a cord, 
ready to be shipped off to the coast of England the first favourable night, 
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