...Ipse tibi jam brachia contrahit ardens Scorpios, et coeli jusiâ plus parts reliquit.[59] I met with an adventure in my journey from St Quentin to Compiègne, which, had it happened a hundred years ago in France, would have alarmed me much for my personal safety. It was as follows. I had taken my place at St Quentin to go to Paris; but all the diligences being filled, the _bureau_ expedited a _calèche_ to convey me as far as Compiègne, there to meet the Paris diligence at nine the next morning. It was a very dark cold night, and snowed very hard. Between eleven and twelve o'clock at night, half way between St Quentin and Compiègne, the axle tree of the carriage broke; we were at least two miles from any village one way and three the other; but a lone house was close to the spot where the accident happened. We had, therefore, the choice of going forward or backward, the postillion and myself helping the carriage on with our hands, or to take refuge at the lone house till dawn of day. I preferred the latter; we knocked several times at the door of the lone house, but the owner refused to admit us, saying that he was sure we were _gens de mauvaise vie_, and that he would shoot us if we did not go away. The postillion and I then determined on retrograding two miles, the distance of the nearest village, and remaining there till morning. We arrived there with no small difficulty and labour, for it snowed very fast and heavily, and it required a good deal of bodily exertion to push on the carriage. Arrived at the village, we knocked at the door of a small cottage, the owner of which sold some brandy. He received me very civilly, gave me some eggs and bacon for supper, and a very fair bed. The next morning, after having the axle tree repaired, we proceeded on our journey to Compiègne. I suffered much from the cold during this adventure, and did not sleep well, having fallen into a train of thought which prevented me from so doing; and I could not help bringing to my recollection the adventure of Raymond in the forest near Strassburg, in the romance of _The Monk_. Nothing worthy of note occurred during the rest of the journey; but this adventure obliged me to remain one day at Compiègne to wait for the next diligence. PARIS, April 8th, 1816.