Before I take leave of Paris, I ought in justice to acknowledge that I have not had an opportunity of enjoying its chief and proudest attraction; I mean its best society. Our time did not allow of any intercourse of this nature, and I regretted it much, because I have always heard (and from those most capable of judging rightly) that the tone of conversation in the upper circles here is remarkably attractive and delightful; and that lovers of good taste, high breeding, social enjoyment, and literary pursuits, would find themselves in Paris _en pays de connoissance_. Deprived of this gratification, we felt (at least Mr. B. and myself) no sort of reluctance or regret when the day of our departure arrived: for our friend Mr. W. I will not so confidently answer; he had been in Paris twice before, had met with many agreeable people there, and consequently felt more at home among them.
As for me in particular, I can only say that Paris made no great impression upon my fancy, and none at all upon my feelings; (always excepting the _Louvre_, the _cimetiere_ of _Père de la Chaise_, and one or two other interesting spectacles): and that I was, as I before observed, so overpowered by its inconceivably filthy effluvia, and the wretched inconvenience of its streets (both for walking and going in a carriage), that I rather felt an exhilaration of spirits than otherwise when we finally bade it adieu.
On the morning of our departure it rained a good deal, and our postillion had taken care to fence himself against the weather; for he had disguised himself in a long shaggy dress of goats' skins, bearing a very accurate resemblance to the prints of Robinson Crusoe. We observed this done by others, more than once. The horses had little bells fastened to their harness; which practice is very common, we were told, both in France and Italy. All the roads in the former, and most of them in the latter country, are good; wide, smooth, and generally paved in the middle, which has a noisy effect, but it renders the draught for horses much easier than the road, in wet weather, or when they work in very heavy carriages. Avenues are general; they improve the face of the country when seen at a distance, but are monotonous and tiresome in themselves. I used formerly to admire roads leading though avenues, but it is possible to have too much of this. Between Villejuif and Fromenteau we observed a pillar on the left with the following chivalrous inscription; _Dieu, le Roi, les Dames!_ I was going to rejoice in this apparent proof of the gallant spirit of the nation, but I recollected the celebrated words of Burke, in his letter upon the French revolution, and sighed as I involuntarily repeated, "The age of chivalry is no more."