290 The Unknown River. 



tine course, and so long as it has to do with nothing but 

 soft loam, and sand, and little rounded pebbles, the navi- 

 gation is safe and easy. But when we come to the thick 

 granite lip of the great basin, we shall find that the stream 

 suddenly takes a new character. It is a lowland river in 

 the basin of Autun, a highland stream for twenty miles 

 as it crosses the rocky edge of the basin, and after that a 

 lowland river again as it meanders through the plain of 

 the Loire. This accounts for my getting safely to the 

 inn after dark ; a little lower down all night-travelling 

 was out of the question. 



But at the inn there was not a bed to be had, so I went 

 to a country-house on the other side of the river, belong- 

 ing to a rich land-owner whom I did not know personally, 

 but who had an encouraging reputation for hospitality. 

 Going to beg a night's lodging at a private house where 

 you are unknown requires more assurance, I think, than 

 any thing I ever attempted. 



The master of the mansion was absent. The butler 

 put his head out of a bedroom window and heard my 

 petition. The butler was a very decent fellow ; he 

 dressed himself and came downstairs, and kindly heard 

 all I had to say. For a moment I believed the difficulty 

 overcome, but unluckily the favorable impression which 

 I had succeeded in making on this man's mind availed 

 me nothing, for the supreme authority was the house- 

 keeper, She put her face out of a window, an ugly vis- 

 age whose thousand wrinkles were strongly illumined by 

 a candle in her skinny hand, and one glance assured me 

 that she would be inexorable. Nothing could be more 



