"Englishmen who do not belong to the aristocracy, and are not very rich, usually travel without a servant by the mail or stage-coach, which deposits them at the inn. The man who waits on strangers to the coach, cleans their boots, etc., has the universal appellation of 'Boots.' It is, accordingly, 'Boots' who brings your slippers, helps you to pull off your boots, and then departs, first asking at what time you will have, not, as in Germany, your coffee, but your hot water to shave. He appears with it punctually at the appointed hour, and brings your clothes cleanly brushed. The traveller then hastens to dress himself and to return to his beloved coffee-room, where the ingredients of breakfast are richly spread upon his table. To this meal he seems to bring more animation than to any other, and indeed I think more appetite; for the number of cups of tea, the masses of bread and butter, eggs and cold meat, which he devours, awaken silent envy in the breast, or rather in the stomach, of the less capable foreigner. He is now not only permitted, but enjoined (by custom his gospel) to read. At every cup of tea he unfolds a newspaper of the size of a table-cloth. Not a single speech, crim. con., murder, or other catastrophe, invented by the 'accident maker' in London, escapes him. "Like one who would rather die of a surfeit than leave anything uneaten which he had paid for, the systematic Englishman thinks that, having called for a newspaper, he ought not to leave a letter of it unread. By this means his breakfast lasts several hours, and the sixth or seventh cup is drunk cold. I have seen this glorious meal protracted so long that it blended with dinner; and you will hardly believe me when I assure you, that a light supper followed at midnight without the company quitting the table."--Pp. 209-212. The correctness of this picture is striking; but we do not exactly trace the sequence of thought within his highness's illustrious breast which conducts him from this analysis of coffee-house breakfasts, through a few more uncalled-for insinuations of contempt for the individuals at whose houses he had been visiting, to the grand reflection with which it pleases him to close, p. 234, viz., "Nevertheless, the English nobleman, even the least of the lords, in the bottom of his heart, thinks himself a better man than the king of France." This, written A.D. 1828, appears to be gratuitous malice; though, as to being a better man than the king of France, if there be truth in Hennequin, we certainly hope there is hardly an Englishman, whether great lord or little gentleman, amongst us--liable as we are to the charge of stealing pocket-books from living princes,--who would, in January, 1832, be ambitious to change characters with the actual occupant of the Tuileries. At page 218, this exemplary advocate of Popish emancipation in Ireland, lets slip the following simple and natural observations:--