Memoirs of a Cavalier | Page 7

if this part of Europe would find us work enough." My father spake then relating to the quarrel likely to happen between the King of England and the Spaniard,' [1] for I believe he had no notions of a civil war in his head.
In short, my father, perceiving my inclinations very forward to go abroad, gave me leave to travel, upon condition I would promise to return in two years at farthest, or sooner, if he sent for me.
While I was at Oxford I happened into the society of a young gentleman, of a good family, but of a low fortune, being a younger brother, and who had indeed instilled into me the first desires of going abroad, and who, I knew, passionately longed to travel, but had not sufficient allowance to defray his expenses as a gentleman. We had contracted a very close friendship, and our humours being very agreeable to one another, we daily enjoyed the conversation of letters. He was of a generous free temper, without the least affectation or deceit, a handsome proper person, a strong body, very good mien, and brave to the last degree. His name was Fielding and we called him Captain, though it be a very unusual title in a college; but fate had some hand in the title, for he had certainly the lines of a soldier drawn in his countenance. I imparted to him the resolutions I had taken, and how I had my father's consent to go abroad, and would know his mind whether he would go with me. He sent me word he would go with all his heart.
My father, when he saw him, for I sent for him immediately to come to me, mightily approved my choice; so we got our equipage ready, and came away for London.
'Twas on the 22nd of April 1630, when we embarked at Dover, landed in a few hours at Calais, and immediately took post for Paris. I shall not trouble the reader with a journal of my travels, nor with the description of places, which every geographer can do better than I; but these Memoirs being only a relation of what happened either to ourselves, or in our own knowledge, I shall confine myself to that part of it.
We had indeed some diverting passages in our journey to Paris, as first, the horse my comrade was upon fell so very lame with a slip that he could not go, and hardly stand, and the fellow that rid with us express, pretended to ride away to a town five miles off to get a fresh horse, and so left us on the road with one horse between two of us. We followed as well as we could, but being strangers, missed the way, and wandered a great way out the road. Whether the man performed in reasonable time or not we could not be sure, but if it had not been for an old priest, we had never found him. We met this man, by a very good accident, near a little village whereof he was curate. We spoke Latin enough just to make him understand us, and he did not speak it much better himself; but he carried us into the village to his house, gave us wine and bread, and entertained us with wonderful courtesy. After this he sent into the village, hired a peasant, and a horse for my captain, and sent him to guide us into the road. At parting he made a great many compliments to us in French, which we could just understand; but the sum was, to excuse him for a question he had a mind to ask us. After leave to ask what he pleased, it was if we wanted any money for our journey, and pulled out two pistoles, which he offered either to give or lend us.
I mention this exceeding courtesy of the curate because, though civility is very much in use in France, and especially to strangers, yet 'tis a very unusual thing to have them part with their money.
We let the priest know, first, that we did not want money, and next that we were very sensible of the obligation he had put upon us; and I told him in particular, if I lived to see him again, I would acknowledge it.
This accident of our horse was, as we afterwards found, of some use to us. We had left our two servants behind us at Calais to bring our baggage after us, by reason of some dispute between the captain of the packet and the custom-house officer, which could not be adjusted, and we were willing to be at Paris. The fellows followed as fast as they could, and, as near as we could learn, in the time we lost