However, no more of
what might have been, let us proceed to what was.
If on Tuesday, June 9 [i.e. 1857], you leave London Bridge at six
o'clock in the morning, you will get (via Newhaven) to Dieppe at
fifteen minutes past three. If on landing you go to the Hotel
Victoria, you will find good accommodation and a table d'hote at
five o'clock; you can then go and admire the town, which will not be
worth admiring, but which will fill you with pleasure on account of
the novelty and freshness of everything you meet; whether it is the
old bonnet-less, short-petticoated women walking arm and arm with
their grandsons, whether the church with its quaint sculpture of the
Entombment of our Lord, and the sad votive candles ever guttering in
front of it, or whether the plain evidence that meets one at every
touch and turn, that one is among people who live out of doors very
much more than ourselves, or what not--all will be charming, and if
you are yourself in high spirits and health, full of anticipation
and well inclined to be pleased with all you see, Dieppe will appear
a very charming place, and one which a year or two hence you will
fancy that you would like to revisit. But now we must leave it at
forty-five minutes past seven, and at twelve o'clock on Tuesday
night we shall find ourselves in Paris.
Pages:
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32