"Saturday, 29th September. Fontainbleau.--In the very heart of the Alps, I never saw a more wild and lonely spot, yet _curious_ in the extreme, and even _beautiful_. Thousands of white bleached rocks, mostly in appearance not much larger than sheep, lay on the steep declivities of the dell among bushes and low trees, heather, bilberries, and other forest plants. The effect of loneliness and desert wildness was indescribably increased by the remembrance of the Palace we had left not an hour before. The spot on which we stood is said to have been frequented by Henry the IVth. when he wished to retire from his court and attendants. A few steps more brought us in view of fresh ranges of the forest, hills, plains, and distant lonely dells. The sunset was brilliant--light clouds in the west, and overhead a spotless blue dome. As we wind along the top of the Steep, the views are still changing--the plain expands eastward, and again appear the white buildings of Fontainbleau, with something of romantic brightness in the _fading_ light; for we had tarried till a star or two reminded us it was time to move away. In descending, we followed one of the long straight tracks that intersect the forest in all directions. Bewildered among those tracks, we were set right by a party of wood-cutters, going home from their labour." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. ii.)--ED. XXXIV ON BEING STRANDED NEAR THE HARBOUR OF BOULOGNE Why cast ye back upon the Gallic shore, Ye furious waves! a patriotic Son Of England--who in hope her coast had won, His project crowned, his pleasant travel o'er? Well--let him pace this noted beach once more, 5 That gave the Roman his triumphal shells;[JF] That saw the Corsican his cap and bells Haughtily shake, a dreaming Conqueror!-- Enough: my Country's cliffs I can behold, And proudly think, beside the chafing sea,[566] 10 Of checked ambition, tyranny controlled, And folly cursed with endless memory: These local recollections ne'er can cloy; Such ground I from my very heart enjoy! Near the Town of Boulogne, and overhanging the Beach, are the remains of a Tower which bears the name of Caligula, who here terminated his western Expedition, of which these sea-shells were the boasted spoils. And, at no great distance from these Ruins, Buonaparte, standing upon a mound of earth, harangued his "Army of England," reminding them of the exploits of Cæsar, and, pointing towards the white cliffs upon which their standards _were to float_. He recommended also a subscription to be raised among the Soldiery to erect on that Ground, in memory of the Foundation of the "Legion of Honour," a Column,--which was not completed at the time we were there.--W. W. 1822.