At four o’clock we left the inn, but the town-gates were yet closed, and some time elapsed before they were opened to us; at length an officer came and accomplished this with military ceremony; but we were still unable to proceed, for a whole drove of asses and mules, laden with fruits, vegetables, &c. had stationed themselves in the pass on the other side, and began to enter amidst the smacking of whips, and hallooing of muleteers; this occupied at least ten minutes. Shortly afterward we took up a man who had fought in the battle of Trafalgar, but was now a _traiteur_ at Nice, and had been into the country to purchase grapes, in order to manufacture his own wine: he seemed pleased on discovering that I had served in the British navy, of which he spoke very highly. We now arrived on the banks of the Var, which separates the kingdoms of France and Sardinia, and, with little interruption from the custom-house officers, immediately crossed the frontiers. We here received the addition to our party, of two very genteel ladies and a gentleman, who proved for the remainder of the journey, most agreeable companions; I was so much interested in their conversation, that, almost without being sensible of the progress, we arrived at the Hotel des Etranger, at Nice. I am unwilling, finally, to take my leave of France, without expressing an opinion of the character of a people, with whom I had been so long resident; the unfavourable circumstances, however, under which only I could contemplate them, make me diffident in advancing my opinion, as I am fully conscious of an inability to give the picture that energy and justice of colouring which it requires. I shall, therefore, confine myself to a few general remarks. There is something highly fascinating in the exterior, manners, and converse of a Frenchman; courteous in his behaviour, he evinces a strong desire to please and be pleased; but although he manifests the speciousness of ardent friendship, his heart is not the soil, in which this quality is capable of taking a firm and unshaken root; as soon as the source, from which it has emanated, and been supported, ceases to be present, the previous impressions disappear, and a void is offered for the reception of new ones, equally vivid, but equally superficial. This mixture of susceptibility and indifference makes the Frenchman a gay and pleasing, but, at the same time, an uncertain companion; he does not, like the Englishman, dwell on the enjoyments of the past, and entangle his mind with useless and prolonged regrets, but is ever ready to enliven new scenes of social intercourse; in short, he can ill sustain a state of _tristesse_, which he considers all his reflecting moments, and whether thrown into contact with his countrymen, or strangers, is a sensualist in his social feelings, and must seek for pleasure and amusement, for in this “he lives and has his being,” and that man is his dearest friend, who most contributes to his gratification.