Nothing can exceed the wretchedness of the implements of husbandry employed but the wretched appearance of the persons using them. Women at the plough and young girls driving a team give but an indifferent idea of the progress of agriculture under the Republic. There are no farmhouses dispersed over the fields. The farmers reside together in remote villages, a circumstance calculated to retard the business of cultivation. The interiors of the houses are filthy, the farmyards in the utmost disorder, and the miserable condition of the cattle sufficiently bespeaks the poverty of their owner. Meat of all kinds is poor and unnutritious, but the poultry is excellent. The wine is sour and worse than vinegar and water, and even in the great inns where I paid a high price for so-called burgundy and bordeaux, I never drank one glass of even _tolerable wine_ (Chantilly excepted) between Calais and the capital. Between Montreuil and Flixecourt we were greatly diverted at the sight of two women ploughing with three asses, although this confirms the opinion upon which I have always insisted, but not ludicrously, that if we in England made more use of asses in husbandry advantage might be derived to the community and a saving to the farmer. If instead of harassing and ill-treating these useful animals we gave them a little more consequence in the society of brutes and raised them from the condition of slaves to servants, they would possess more spirit and energy and be more tractable. The asses at the plough looked plump and sleek and performed their work apparently as well as horses. After having seen a goat at the plough I think no one should be surprised that I plead the cause of the poor ass, besides I acknowledge myself to be the friend of asses. V DESCRIPTION OF AMIENS, AND HAPPY RELEASE FROM THE “LION D’OR” At the time we arrived at the inn, the people of the town were just leaving the theatre, which overflowed on account of a new piece having been represented that night. A Frenchman would rather be called a knave than be accused of a want of _goût_. Hence the theatres are always crowded at the representation of a new piece (whatever may be the celebrity of the author, or even if he enjoy no celebrity at all). In England, at a first representation, the house is seldom half filled, except by friends of the author, who is either bowing to the manager or quaking in the green room, waiting for the sentence of the critics in the pit. In France, every man fancies himself a born critic, and makes a point of attending the theatre to form part of the general tribunal.