To counterbalance this inconvenience, you are not now plagued, as formerly, by custom-house officers on the frontiers of _every_ department. My baggage being once searched at _Calais_, experienced no other visit; but, at the upper town of _Boulogne_, a sight of my travelling passport was required; by mistake in the dark, I gave the _commis_ a scrawl, put into my hands by Ducrocq, containing an account of the best inns on the road. Would you believe that this inadvertency detained us a considerable time, so extremely inquisitive are they, at the present moment, respecting all papers? At _Calais_, the custom-house officers even examined every piece of paper used in the packing of my baggage. This scrutiny is not particularly adopted towards Englishmen; but must, I understand, be undergone by travellers of every country, on entering the territory of the Republic. _P. S._ Lord Cornwallis is expected with impatience; and, at _St. Denis_, an escort of dragoons of the 19th demi-brigade is in waiting to attend him into Paris. LETTER III. _Paris, October 21, 1801._ On approaching this capital, my curiosity was excited in the highest degree; and, as the carriage passed rapidly along from the _Barrière_, through the _Porte St. Denis_, to the _Rue neuve St. Roch_, my eyes wandered in all directions, anxiously seeking every shade of distinction between _monarchical_ and _republican_ Paris. The first thing that attracted my attention, on entering the _faubourg_, was the vast number of inscriptions placed, during the revolution, on many of the principal houses; but more especially on public buildings of every description. They are painted in large, conspicuous letters; and the following is the most general style in which they have been originally worded: "RÉPUBLIQUE FRANÇAISE, UNE ET INDIVISIBLE." "LIBERTÉ, ÉGALITÉ, FRATERNITÉ, OU LA MORT." Since the exit of the French Nero, the last three words "_ou la mort_" have been obliterated, but in few places are so completely effaced as not to be still legible. In front of all the public offices and national establishments, the tri-coloured flag is triumphantly displayed; and almost every person you meet wears in his hat the national cockade. The tumult which, ten or twelve years ago, rendered the streets of Paris so noisy, so dirty, and at the same time so dangerous, is now most sensibly diminished. Boileau's picture of them is no longer just. No longer are seen those scenes of confusion occasioned by the frequent stoppages of coaches and carts, and the contentions of the vociferating drivers. You may now pass the longest and most crowded thoroughfares, either on foot or otherwise, without obstacle or inconvenience. The contrast is striking.