The author generally stations himself in the most distinguished part of the theatre, where, with all the assurance of certain success, he bows to the pit, gallery, and the ladies. If the piece succeeds he carries himself high, and confesses that his countrymen are the only men of taste in the world. But should the play unhappily be damned (a not unfrequent circumstance) his deportment changes, he clenches his fists, gives a horrible and ghastly smile, and swears the audience are a gang of _f-- canaille, scélérats, bandits_, and to crown all, “_Des gens de mauvais goût_.” When he has reached this climax of epithets he rushes furiously from the theatre. It happened that on the night of our arrival at Amiens a very good piece had been presented to the public. But my inclinations (a proof of _mauvais goût_) were directed to a good supper. In order to give a proper notion of the dexterity of Madame Pollet, hostess of the “Lion d’Or,” I must describe our mode of living in her house. We were shown into a large room, containing four chairs, a small round table, and a chest of drawers. In a corner stood a dome bedstead, prettily hung with blue silk curtains, the bed covered by a blue silk counterpane. It is a nasty custom in France to eat and drink in one’s bedroom at an inn. I ordered supper for two persons. In a quarter of an hour the following dishes were served in succession. A jowl of salmon (the largest and fattest I ever saw), two of the finest soles I ever beheld, a partridge, a pigeon, a hashed hare, a fowl, bouillie beef, spinach, and other vegetables--a bottle of Picardy beer, a bottle of champagne, and one bottle of Volnay wine. The unceasing procession of viands surpassed the scene at Barataria. [Sidenote: DESCRIPTION OF AMIENS] My wife ate scarcely anything, but I was hungry and took courage. No sooner had I despatched my quota of a dish when another followed, and another and another. I do believe it would have continued all night if nature, being entirely exhausted, had not obliged me to cry mercy. Having successfully begged for quarter and forbidden any dessert, I retired for the night, having desired to see the Cathedral in the morning. It must not be imagined that I attacked every dish as it advanced--I made a hearty supper on a bit of salmon, part of a sole and some hashed hare; the rest of the feast went down untouched.