An Etcher's Voyage of Discovery. 323 



by everybody. I spent a good many hours with him, 

 and during the whole time he was doing one of two 

 things, either smoking his pipe or filling it. He had 

 read most of our best authors in the original, having 

 taught himself English alone, with the help of nothing 

 but books. He had a capital little English library at 

 home, and had read every volume in it : all Scott, all 

 Dickens, all Shakspeare, Byron, and many others. 

 His pronunciation was, of course, as bad as our pro- 

 nunciation of Latin ; and I felt, on hearing him read 

 a little, as an old Roman would feel if he could go to 

 Oxford and hear the men there deliver Latin orations. 

 However, in this instance there was nothing to laugh 

 at, because there was no pretension ; and the doctor 

 knew our literature better than many Englishmen do, 

 and understood it, and loved it. He had never heard 

 an English word pronounced by a native before he hit 

 upon me, so that I was a real trouvaille ; and he was 

 extremely kind to me, and invited me to breakfast, point- 

 ing out a charming harbor for the canoe at the end of 

 his garden, as a temptation to future voyages. 



But the best character in Toulon was the maire of the 

 place, Monsieur B., an artist of reputation in a much 

 more useful line than any etcher. I fear that no plate 

 of mine will ever give Monsieur B. half as much pleas- 

 ure and satisfaction as the plats of his cooking gave to 

 me. He keeps the hotel where I stayed, and he made 

 me a little portable dejeuner to take with me every morn- 

 ing when I set out to work. French cookery is always 

 either exquisite or abominable, and his was of the former. 



