A MONTH 



THE FOEESTS OF FRANCE. 



CHAPTER I. 



" We '11 talk of that anon. — *Tis sweet to hear 

 At midnight, on the blue and moonlit deep. 

 The song and oar of Adria's gondolier, 



By distance mellow'd, o'er the waters sweep ; 

 'Tis svfeet to see the evening star appear ; 



'Tis sweet to listen as the night-winds creep 

 From leaf to leaf ; 'tis sweet to view on high 

 The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky." 



Si/ron. 



On a beautiful day in the early part of September, 

 1856, I left Beacon Lodge for the train which started 

 from the Christchurch-road station at half-past one, 

 my intention being to dine at Match em's, the Dolphin 

 Hotel, and steam from Southampton for Havre by 

 the packet at twelve o'clock the same night. It seemed 

 almost miraculous that, as a first-class passenger, and 

 for the sum or passage-money of twenty-seven shil- 



