FALMOUTH-THE INN. 3 diminutive streets without foot-paths,-too narrow, indeed, for any,-all up and down, and crooked. It is Sunday. The men are, many of them, in volunteer uniforms, and look well enough for citi zen-soldiers; the women highly dressed, or rather highly undressed, in extremely thin draperies, move about with an elastic gait on the light fantastic patten, making a universal clatter of iron on the pavement. Ruddy countenances, and embonpoint, are very general and striking. C.'s young astonishment was awakened at the sight of a sedan-chair, vibrating along on two poles. A monstrous carriage turned the corner of a street, overladen with passengers, a dozen, at least, on the top, before, and behind; all this resting on four high slender wheels, drawn along full speed on a rough unequal pavement. We observed some men, in old-fashioned cocked-hats with silver lace, compelling a Quaker to shut his shop;-which was opened again the moment they were gone. An elegant post-chaise and four stopped at the door. A young man, fat and fair, with the face and figure of a baby, six feet high, alighted from it; it was the Marquis of S. the first man of quality we had seen in England. He goes, we are told, to lounge away his ennui and his idleness beyond seas,-a premature attack of the maladie du pays. The English maladie du pays is of a peculiar character; it is not merely the result of extreme regrets when they have left their country, and of that perpetual longing to return, felt by other people, but an equal longing to leave it, and a sense of weariness and satiety all the time they are at home. Dinner announced, suspended our observations; it was served in our own apartments. We had three small dishes, dressed very inartificially (an 4 FALMOUTH-PASSPORTS-HOUSES. English cook only boils and roasts), otherwise very good. The table-linen and glass, and servants, remarkably neat, and in good order. At the dessert apples no bigger than walnuts, and without taste, which are said to be the best the country produces. December 25-I have been this morning to the custom-house, with the other passengers, to get our passports. They obtained theirs without difficulty, but I must write to London for mine. Twenty-two years of absence have not expiated the original sin of being born in France: but I have no right to complain, an Englishman would be worse off in France. We have on our arrival a double allowance of news; those which were coming over to us when we left America, and what has occurred since; an accumulation of about three months. The first thing we have learnt was an Imperial repudiation and an expected Imperial marriage, which seems to be a great stroke of policy. Political news are no longer what, they were formerly; they come home to every man's concerns, and state affairs are become family affairs. December 26.-I have been introduced to several respectable citizens of Falmouth; they all live in very small, old habitations, of which the apartments resemble the cabins of vessels. A new house is a phenomenon. The manners of this remote corner of England have retained a sort of primitive simplicity. I have seen nothing here of the luxury and pride which I expected to find everywhere in this warlike and commercial country. There is much despondency about Spain, and but one voice against the Walcheren expedition and LODGINGS THE COUNTRY. against the ministers, who are not expected to withstand the shock of such general dissatisfaction. We have left our hotel, to take furnished lodg ings in an elevated part of the town,-a kind of terrace,-looking down upon the beautiful little harbour, and surrounding country. This apartment, composed of very small, neat rooms, costs only a guinea and a half a week, and the people of the house cook, and wait on us. This would cost more in the smallest town in America, or in fact could not be had. Domestics are here not only more obliging and industrious, but, what is remarkable, look better pleased and happier. December 30.-The weather has been singularly mild since we landed; the sky cloudy and misty, without absolute rain; a little, and very little sun, seen every day. Fahrenheit's thermometer about 50°. December 31.-We left Falmouth this morning, in a post-chaise, fairly on our way to London. The country is an extensive moor, covered with furze (a low, thorny bush), evergreen, nipt by a few goats and sheep; not a fourth part of the surface is inclosed and cultivated. The total absence of wood is particularly striking to us, who have just arrived from a world of forests. It gives, however, a vastness to the prospect, and opens distances of great beauty; hills behind hills, clothed in brown and green, in an endless undulating line. The roads very narrow, crooked, and dirty; continually up and down. The horses we get are by no means good, and draw us with difficulty at the rate of five miles an hour. We change carriages as well as horses at every posthouse; they are on four wheels, light and easy, and large enough for three persons. The post-boy sits on a cross bar of wood between the front springs, . 6 CORNWALL-CLIMATE-PLANTS. or rather rests against it. This is safer, and more convenient both for men and horses, but does not look well; and, as far as we have seen, English post-horses and postillions do not seem to deserve their reputation. This country (Cornwall,) abounds in mines, which we have not time to visit. There is a singular sort of secondary mine, called streamtin; the metal is found in very small particles, mixed in horizontal beds of clay. January 1. 1810.-From Bodmin, where we slept last night, travelling all day, we have gone only 32 miles, through a very hilly, unpleasant country; a thick fog hid many a fine view from us. The furze is in full blossom about the hedges; much holly, with rich varnished foliage and bright red berries, and ivy, in wild luxuriance, mantling over cottages and stems of trees. No new houses to be seen; very few young trees; all is old, and mouldering into picturesque forms and colours. The trees are uniformly covered with moss, even to the smallest branches, owing to the prevailing moisture of the climate. We have no creeping plants in North America which preserve their verdure in winter, and the effect of this profusion of ivy is very striking. The mildness of the climate is truly astonishing; geraniums, and other greenhouse-plants, require only shelter, without fire, in winter, and wall-flowers are now in full bloom out of doors. We have seen to-day several gentlemen's houses at a distance, spreading wide and low over fine lawns, with dark back-grounds of pines, and clumps of arbutus and laurel, as green as in spring. Near dusk, we crossed the bay to Plymouth Dock, amidst its floating castles, one of them bearing 90 guns. To-morrow we go to Mount Edgecumbe, if the weather permits. This MOUNT EDGECUMBE. 7 place struck us as very like Philadelphia, and not the modern part of it. The inhabitants, however, do not look much like Quakers, being mostly army and navy. January 2.-Armed with umbrellas and greatcoats, we set out this morning for Mount Edgecumbe, in the midst of a drizzling rain. Crossed the bay at Crimble passage; landed on a strand of firm pebbly sand, near the porter's lodge. It was not the day of admittance, and we were told it was necessary to write to Lord M. E. A note was dispatched, and word returned that we were welcome, and a key given to us, opening all gates, with directions to find our way, and no guides to overlook us, which is a refinement of politeness. A gentle ascent of lawn, skirted with old chesnut trees and elms, leads to the house; a plain edifice, half gothic, of a greyish white, with a fine background of trees upon the hill behind. The grounds, which I should judge not to exceed five or six hundred acres, form a sort of headland on the bay. A gravel walk, eight or ten feet wide, leads from the lodge to the house, and, turning round it, through the wood behind, brings you to an open lawn, (A) sloping abruptly to the water. A small gothic ruin stands there, of modern erection, near which the walk divides; a branch descending to the sea-side, another keeping along the high grounds, and, after plunging again into the shade of a dark wood, and passing through groves of evergreen trees and shrubs, advances along the precipitous heights, (B) where the sight, unchecked by any trees, and from an elevation of two or three hundred feet, embraces at once the ocean on the right; in front, on the other side of the bay, at about one mile distance, a line of |