A DISTINGUISHED FASHIONABLE LADY AT CALAIS. THE wicked, or the thoughtless and the ungodly, are a source of sincere grief to the enlightened Christian. To see them, to mark their practical atheism, or even the thought of what they are and whither they are going, is a wound to their moral sensibility; and all this, none the less, because they see no danger, fear no evil, and feel very happy. Yet, when they shall say, “peace and safety," THEN sudden destruction cometh upon them, and they shall not escape. However, in other things, intelligent and respectable, graceful and popular, or even useful and eminent, still their doom is written and their character described. He will take vengeance on them that know not God, and that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. To obey the gospel is the way and the medium of knowing God. Hence their ignorance is voluntary and criminal. It results from their disobedience. They hate the light, and therefore come not to it. Their neglect is repeated till it becomes habitual. It is an incrustation of character, an habituation of moral servility and deceptive alienation from God. It gains and grows on its victims. It blinds and infatuates them with their own sincere consent. Hence the grief is founded and rational, which it legitimately occasions in the bosom of pious friendship; such as Christian mothers, sisters, daughters, and especially wives and all their correlates, are often called peculiarly to know; and as all Christians at times are compelled to share. It is a grief unselfish, unobtrusive, and un 304 FROM DOVER TO CALAIS appreciated mainly by its object, though of great price in heaven! What care the lost souls in Jerusalem, from whose eyes the things of their peace are forever hid, for the tears of love divine weeping over their doomed city! How often would I have gathered you, and would not! ye When a Christian journeys, even in nominal Christendom, he sees human nature in many a strange and revolting spectacle displayed. It entertains, affects, instructs him. He grieves for them; and heaven records, however earth disparages, the groans he heaves, the wounds he feels, the fears he knows, and the prayers he offers, as he observes their manners and their ways. Sometimes the contrasts of splendid and impious are counterpoised by those of a jewel of God, as seen to sparkle amid all the externals of squalidity and want. On the present occasion, however, we have to describe a character adorned with all worldly glory; yet strangely vacant and insipid, I might say even silly, in reference to every nobler object of duty, or destiny, or existence; wise to do evil—to do good having no knowledge. I will amplify some extracts from my itinerary or traveling journal, referring to individuals without name, as it is no part of my plan to be personal, or to wound the feelings of any one, but only to do good! It was on Thursday, June 6, 1833, at 11 A. M. that we sailed from Dover, England, for Calais, in France. We were in the little yacht of a steamer, FIRE-FLY, sailing across the channel, with its surface of beauty as serene as that of Lake George or Lake Champlain, as I have delighted to view them, when ruffled gently with a breeze of summer. About sixty persons in all, various in appearance, in language, in manners, in character, and in relation to each other, from different and distant nations of the earth, were there all collected and consolidated for nearly three hours, going, as it seemed to me, on a slow trot; our little pony of a boat moving in a course not very direct or swift toward our destined haven. THE FIRE-FLY'S COMPANY AND MUSIC. 305 All, however, seemed to enjoy themselves. We were together three Americans, pledged to keep in company, with mutual interest and assistance, till we arrived in Paris. For one, the jaunt was to me singularly novel and agreeable. Some men of state-if not statesmen, and some of noble bearing—if not nobles, and some looking clerical—if not clergymen, they, and their wives, and their daughters, figured gracefully and well in the tout ensemble of the moving scene. Still, there is sometimes seen in such assemblages a bluff dignity that may be English, but is not American—I had almost said, not Christian- -as the equally censurable extreme, in contrast with the too familiar manners of our countrymen, at least occasionally witnessed. Well, said I to myself, no patent of nobility consciously possessed, meliorating one's blood, and all that, could make the scene or the occasion more exhilarating and balmy; and I consciously repeated, from some long unused registration on the tablet of my memory, the following lines from the Task: Now hoist the sail, and let the streamers float That no rude savor maritime invade The nose of nice nobility! breathe soft, Ye clarionets, and softer still, ye flutes; That winds and waters, lull'd by magic sounds, May bear us smoothly to the Gallic shore. Yes, we had music, such as it was, obtrusive with its manufactured sounds, but more with its mendicant importunities to be-gratuitously—paid for them. When Cowper wrote those lines, his imagination never dreamed of such an airy nothing as swift travel, on land or water, by steam! Yet, so leisurely was our steaming, cutting some angular and some curvilinear figures in our course, as if on purpose to detain us longer on the glassy element, and not arrive too soon for somebody's special convenience, that, about two-and-twenty miles of transit, instead of "gone in an hour," as we are wont char 306 FIRST MEAL IN FRANCE. acteristically to go, as our minimum in America, strangely cost us about thrice that amount of time before our cruise was ended. I would not, however, complain of it. It is not a long time to go from England to-France! so at least our fathers were wont to think, not without all vernacular apprehension. It was to me a very pleasant diversion; and I regard it always with new delight, in the present retrospect of almost twenty years. The English, too, enjoy it, with a kind of national jubilation. France once was theirs, nominally, for several centuries. But our narration must here omit the subsequent events and circumstances, though devoid neither of interest nor instruction. After customary hinderances and vexations, we were summoned, about four o'clock, to the large saloon, refectory, or salle à manger, to dine; where the great and florid table d'hôte was ornamented and displayed, à la mode, and we were to eat for the first time on the continent of Europe, and in France! Our guests were quite numerous, and even more diversified than our fellow-passengers in the Fire-fly. Near the head of the table were seated a number of good-looking military officers, some of them generals of note, just returning from the siege of Antwerp; and, though seemingly formidable in their brilliant uniform, bright epaulets, and bearded physiognomy, their manners were polished and gentle, and graceful withal; so that they seemed no encumbrance, but an acquisition rather, to our large and motley dining party. The other guests, ladies and gentlemen nearly equal, were quite various in costume and language, generally strangers to each other, yet, on the whole, well behaving, not without courteous bearing, and the proofs of education and refinement. We three Americans were all the representatives, on the occasion, present, of the great occidental republic. We felt inter se American; endeavoring so to act as not to discredit our far-off, our dearlybeloved country. We thought, with new and vivid interest, |