and at my request for supper brought me a couple of cold widgeons, which I soon discussed, and jumped into an excellent bed. _9th._--In a dilemma; no conveyance forward but posting. Did not exactly believe this, and therefore inquired from _auberge_ to _auberge_, until at last I discovered that a sort of caravan started every morning at nine o’clock from the * * * for Abbeville. This would be getting on, therefore I lost no time in securing my places. Having risen early, I passed the intervening time in visiting some of our people stationed here--younger M’Donald’s troop, also 1st Regiment of Dragoons, K.G.L. Him I found in an excellent lodging. Our caravan was a curious machine, very much down by the stern, otherwise resembling a small house on wheels. William and a woman got into the _fond de la voiture_, whilst I occupied the front seat, in company with a neat, dapper, little, big-bellied man, wearing a very smart forage-cap, and speaking a very little English. We travelled very slowly, and made a long halt at Flixcourt (pronounced _Fleeshcour_)--nevertheless, to my great joy, we reached Abbeville by two o’clock. I found here the 13th Light Dragoons and my old troop G; called on Lieutenant Leathes; dined at the Hotel de Londres, a very inferior house. Here I hired a cabriolet to take us forward to Calais for five napoleons. From the first I set my _voiturier_ down as a scoundrel, from his physiognomy, and the event proved me a sound judge. The bargain struck, he tried all sorts of shifts and excuses, in the hope, as I discovered, of associating some other traveller with me. As soon as I made the discovery, I insisted on his starting instantly, and after some difficulty at last got him fairly on the road. It proved a very tedious mode of travelling this; he did not choose to hurry his horse, was continually stopping, and more uncivil in his manner than I thought a true Frenchman could be. The motion of the carriage was very disagreeable--sometimes too heavy before, sometimes behind; and at times it became necessary to put a great stone behind to relieve the poor horse of the weight. A sort of commercial traveller (bagman), who overtook us as we slowly crept up hill near Montreuil thus loaded, facetiously remarked, “Ah, monsieur, vous chargez des pierres, donc!” Our driver’s villanous countenance became black as thunder, but he answered a dry “Oui;” and the other, seeing it was no joke, passed on.