To　sum　up。　　My　uncommercial　travelling　has　not　yet　brought　me　to
  the　conclusion　that　we　are　close　to　perfection　in　these　matters。
  And　just　as　I　do　not　believe　that　the　end　of　the　world　will　ever　be
  near　at　hand；　so　long　as　any　of　the　very　tiresome　and　arrogant
  people　who　constantly　predict　that　catastrophe　are　left　in　it；　so；
  I　shall　have　small　faith　in　the　Hotel　Millennium；　while　any　of　the
  uncomfortable　superstitions　I　have　glanced　at　remain　in　existence。
  CHAPTER　VII　…　TRAVELLING　ABROAD
  I　got　into　the　travelling　chariot　…　it　was　of　German　make；　roomy；
  heavy；　and　unvarnished　…　I　got　into　the　travelling　chariot；　pulled
  up　the　steps　after　me；　shut　myself　in　with　a　smart　bang　of　the
  door；　and　gave　the　word；　'Go　on！'
  Immediately；　all　that　W。　and　S。W。　division　of　London　began　to　slide
  away　at　a　pace　so　lively；　that　I　was　over　the　river；　and　past　the
  Old　Kent　Road；　and　out　on　Blackheath；　and　even　ascending　Shooter's
  Hill；　before　I　had　had　time　to　look　about　me　in　the　carriage；　like
  a　collected　traveller。
  I　had　two　ample　Imperials　on　the　roof；　other　fitted　storage　for
  luggage　in　front；　and　other　up　behind；　I　had　a　net　for　books
  overhead；　great　pockets　to　all　the　windows；　a　leathern　pouch　or　two
  hung　up　for　odds　and　ends；　and　a　reading　lamp　fixed　in　the　back　of
  the　chariot；　in　case　I　should　be　benighted。　　I　was　amply　provided
  in　all　respects；　and　had　no　idea　where　I　was　going　（which　was
  delightful）；　except　that　I　was　going　abroad。
  So　smooth　was　the　old　high　road；　and　so　fresh　were　the　horses；　and
  so　fast　went　I；　that　it　was　midway　between　Gravesend　and　Rochester；
  and　the　widening　river　was　bearing　the　ships；　white　sailed　or
  black…smoked；　out　to　sea；　when　I　noticed　by　the　wayside　a　very
  queer　small　boy。
  'Holloa！'　said　I；　to　the　very　queer　small　boy；　'where　do　you　live？'
  'At　Chatham；'　says　he。
  'What　do　you　do　there？'　says　I。
  'I　go　to　school；'　says　he。
  I　took　him　up　in　a　moment；　and　we　went　on。　　Presently；　the　very
  queer　small　boy　says；　'This　is　Gads…hill　we　are　coming　to；　where
  Falstaff　went　out　to　rob　those　travellers；　and　ran　away。'
  'You　know　something　about　Falstaff；　eh？'　said　I。
  'All　about　him；'　said　the　very　queer　small　boy。　　'I　am　old　（I　am
  nine）；　and　I　read　all　sorts　of　books。　　But　DO　let　us　stop　at　the
  top　of　the　hill；　and　look　at　the　house　there；　if　you　please！'
  'You　admire　that　house？'　said　I。
  'Bless　you；　sir；'　said　the　very　queer　small　boy；　'when　I　was　not
  more　than　half　as　old　as　nine；　it　used　to　be　a　treat　for　me　to　be
  brought　to　look　at　it。　　And　now；　I　am　nine；　I　come　by　myself　to
  look　at　it。　　And　ever　since　I　can　recollect；　my　father；　seeing　me
  so　fond　of　it；　has　often　said　to　me；　〃If　you　were　to　be　very
  persevering　and　were　to　work　hard；　you　might　some　day　come　to　live
  in　it。〃　　Though　that's　impossible！'　said　the　very　queer　small　boy；
  drawing　a　low　breath；　and　now　staring　at　the　house　out　of　window
  with　all　his　might。
  I　was　rather　amazed　to　be　told　this　by　the　very　queer　small　boy；
  for　that　house　happens　to　be　MY　house；　and　I　have　reason　to　believe
  that　what　he　said　was　true。
  Well！　　I　made　no　halt　there；　and　I　soon　dropped　the　very　queer
  small　boy　and　went　on。　　Over　the　road　where　the　old　Romans　used　to
  march；　over　the　road　where　the　old　Canterbury　pilgrims　used　to　go；
  over　the　road　where　the　travelling　trains　of　the　old　imperious
  priests　and　princes　used　to　jingle　on　horseback　between　the
  continent　and　this　Island　through　the　mud　and　water；　over　the　road
  where　Shakespeare　hummed　to　himself；　'Blow；　blow；　thou　winter
  wind；'　as　he　sat　in　the　saddle　at　the　gate　of　the　inn　yard　noticing
  the　carriers；　all　among　the　cherry　orchards；　apple　orchards；　corn…
  fields；　and　hop…gardens；　so　went　I；　by　Canterbury　to　Dover。　　There；
  the　sea　was　tumbling　in；　with　deep　sounds；　after　dark；　and　the
  revolving　French　light　on　Cape　Grinez　was　seen　regularly　bursting
  out　and　becoming　obscured；　as　if　the　head　of　a　gigantic　light…
  keeper　in　an　anxious　state　of　mind　were　interposed　every　half…
  minute；　to　look　how　it　was　burning。
  Early　in　the　morning　I　was　on　the　deck　of　the　steam…packet；　and　we
  were　aiming　at　the　bar　in　the　usual　intolerable　manner；　and　the　bar
  was　aiming　at　us　in　the　usual　intolerable　manner；　and　the　bar　got
  by　far　the　best　of　it；　and　we　got　by　far　the　worst　…　all　in　the
  usual　intolerable　manner。
  But；　when　I　was　clear　of　the　Custom　House　on　the　other　side；　and
  when　I　began　to　make　the　dust　fly　on　the　thirsty　French　roads；　and
  when　the　twigsome　trees　by　the　wayside　（which；　I　suppose；　never
  will　grow　leafy；　for　they　never　did）　guarded　here　and　there　a　dusty
  soldier；　or　field　labourer；　baking　on　a　heap　of　broken　stones；
  sound　asleep　in　a　fiction　of　shade；　I　began　to　recover　my
  travelling　spirits。　　Coming　upon　the　breaker　of　the　broken　stones；
  in　a　hard；　hot；　shining　hat；　on　which　the　sun　played　at　a　distance
  as　on　a　burning…glass；　I　felt　that　now；　indeed；　I　was　in　the　dear
  old　France　of　my　affections。　　I　should　have　known　it；　without　the
  well…remembered　bottle　of　rough　ordinary　wine；　the　cold　roast　fowl；
  the　loaf；　and　the　pinch　of　salt；　on　which　I　lunched　with
  unspeakable　satisfaction；　from　one　of　the　stuffed　pockets　of　the
  chariot。
  I　must　have　fallen　asleep　after　lunch；　for　when　a　bright　face
  looked　in　at　the　window；　I　started；　and　said：
  'Good　God；　Louis；　I　dreamed　you　were　dead！'
  My　cheerful　servant　laughed；　and　answered：
  'Me？　　Not　at　all；　sir。'
  'How　glad　I　am　to　wake！　　What　are　we　doing　Louis？'
  'We　go　to　take　relay　of　horses。　　Will　you　walk　up　the　hill？'
  'Certainly。'
  Welcome　the　old　French　hill；　with　the　old　French　lunatic　（not　in
  the　most　distant　degree　related　to　Sterne's　Maria）　living　in　a
  thatched　dog…kennel　half…way　up；　and　flying　out　with　his　crutch　and
  his　big　head　and　extended　nightcap；　to　be　beforehand　with　the　old
  men　and　women　exhibiting　crippled　children；　and　with　the　children
  exhibiting　old　men　and　women；　ugly　and　blind；　who　always　seemed　by
  resurrectionary　process　to　be　recalled　out　of　the　elements　for　the
  sudden　peopling　of　the　solitude！
  'It　is　well；'　said　I；　scattering　among　them　what　small　coin　I　had；
  'here　comes　Louis；　and　I　am　quite　roused　from　my　nap。'
  We　journeyed　on　again；　and　I　welcomed　every　new　assurance　that
  France　stood　where　I　had　left　it。　　There　were　the　posting…houses；
  with　their　archways；　dirty　stable…yards；　and　clean　post…masters'
  wives；　bright　women　of　business；　looking　on　at　the　putting…to　of
  the　horses；　there　were　the　postilions　counting　what　money　they　got；
  into　their　hats；　and　never　making　enough　of　it；　there　were　the
  standard　population　of　grey　horses　of　Flanders　descent；　invariably
  biting　one　another　when　they　got　a　chance；　there　were　the　fleecy
  sheepskins；　looped　on　over　their　uniforms　by　the　postilions；　like
  bibbed　aprons　when　it　blew　and　rained；　there　were　their　Jack…boots；
  and　their　cracking　whips；　there　were　the　cathedrals　that　I　got　out
  to　see；　as　under　some　cruel　bondage；　in　no　wise　desiring　to　see
  them；　there　were　the　little　towns　that　appeared　to　have　no　reason
  for　being　towns；　since　most　of　their　houses　were　to　let　and　nobody
  could　be　induced　to　look　at　them；　except　the　people　who　couldn't
  let　them　and　had　nothing　else　to　do　but　look　at　them　all　day。　　I
  lay　a　night　upon　the　road　and　enjoyed　delectable　cookery　of
  potatoes；　and　some　other　sensible　things；　adoption　of　which　at　home
  would　inevitably　be　shown　to　be　fraught　with　ruin；　somehow　or
  other；　to　that　rickety　national　blessing；　the　British　farmer；　and
  at　last　I　was　rattled；　like　a　single　pill　in　a　box；　over　leagues　of
  stones；　until　…　madly　cracking；　plunging；　and　flourishing　two　grey
  tails　about　…　I　made　my　triumphal　entry　into　Paris。
  At　Paris；　I　took　an　upper　apartment　for　a　few　days　in　one　of　the
  hotels　of　the　Rue　de　Rivoli；　my　front　windows　looking　into　the
  garden　of　the　Tuileries　（where　the　principal　difference　between　the
  nursemaids　and　the　flowers　seemed　to　be　that　the　former　were
  locomotive　and　the　latter　not）：　　my　back　windows　looking　at　all　the
  other　back　windows　in　the　hotel；　and　deep　down　into　a　paved　yard；
  where　my　German　chariot　had　retired　under　a　tight…fitting　archway；
  to　all　appearance　for　life；　and　where　bells　rang　all　day　without
  anybody's　minding　them　but　certain　chamberlains　with　feather　brooms
  and　green　baize　caps；　who　here　and　there　leaned　out　of　some　high
  window　placidly　looking　down；　and　where　neat　waiters　with　trays　on
  their　left　shoulders　passed　and　repassed　from　morning　to　night。
  Whenever　I　am　at　Paris；　I　am　dragged　by　invisible　force　into　the
  Morgue。　　I　never　want　to　go　there；　but　am　always　pulled　there。　　One
  Christmas　Day；　when　I　would　rather　have　been　anywhere　else；　I　was
  attracted　in；　to　see　an　old　grey　man　lying　all　alone　on　his　cold
  bed；　with　a　tap　of　water　turned　on　over　his　grey　hair；　and　running；
  drip；　drip；　drip；　down　his　wretched　face　unt