Notes of an Overland Journey Through France and Egypt to Bombay | Page 9

our English habits, and ordered tea in the evening in
our private apartments: the French are by this time well accustomed to
requisitions of this nature, and few places are now unsupplied with a
tea-pot.
On Tuesday morning, we were up at four o'clock, in order to embark on
board the steamer for Rouen. It rained heavily, and any hopes, the
interposition of the high houses gave, that the wind had abated, were
destroyed upon turning the first angle, and after a hasty glance at the
threatening sky and surging waters, we went below, intending, if
possible, to remain there until the weather should clear.
Passengers now came flocking in; many respectable French families,
with their children and neatly dressed _bonnes_, were of the party; but
the young folk speedily becoming very sick, we sought the deck, and in

spite of the rain, which still continued to fall, established ourselves as
well as we were able.
Upon entering the river, the turbulence of the water subsided a little,
and a gleam of sunshine, the first that smiled upon us, shewed a
chateau and town nestling in the midst of gardens and orchards, and
spreading down to the water's edge. The banks on either side were
picturesque, presenting the most pleasing pictures of rural enjoyment,
and conveying an idea of comfort which we had not previously
associated with the smaller classes of country residences in France. The
houses were cleanly on the outside, at least, and neither paint nor
white-wash was spared in their decoration; the surrounding parterres
were gay with flowers, amid which, as with us, dahlias made a very
conspicuous appearance. They were not, we thought, quite so large and
luxuriant as those which we see in our cottage-gardens at home; and
this remark we found afterwards would apply to the more carefully
tended plants in the pleasure-grounds of palaces. We are probably more
skilful in the adaptation of soil to foreign importations, and therefore
succeed in producing a finer flower.
In my baggage I had brought a large basket-full of the roots of our
English hearts-ease, as a present to a French gentleman, who had
expressed a wish, in the early part of the summer, to take some with
him from London, he having been much delighted with the superior
beauty of those which he had seen in our English gardens; they were
not then in a fit state for transplanting, and having, through the
kindness of the secretary of the Royal Botanic Society, been enabled to
carry away an extensive and choice collection of roots, I indulge a hope
that I may be instrumental in spreading the finest varieties of this pretty
flower throughout France.
We lost, of course, many scenes of beauty and interest, in consequence
of the inclemency of the weather. Just as we arrived at a most beautiful
place, a church of elegant architecture rising in the centre, with
gay-looking villas clustered round, the gathering clouds united over our
devoted heads, the rain, descending in a cataract, beat down the smoke
to the very decks, so that we all looked and felt as if we had been up the
chimney, and the whole lovely scene was lost to us in a moment. The
rain continued for about an hour after this, and then the sky began to
clear.

We reached Rouen at about half-past twelve. The approach is very fine,
and the city makes an imposing appearance from the river. We had
been recommended to the Hotel d'Angleterre, which is the best, but
were so strongly tempted to rush into the hotel immediately opposite,
that, trusting to its exterior, we hastened to house ourselves, and found
no reason to repent our choice. We were shown into very handsome
apartments, and found the staircases, lobbies, and ante-chambers as
clean as we could desire. A change of attire and breakfast enabled us to
sally forth to see as much of the town and its neighbourhood as our
time would admit.
The modern portion of Rouen is extremely handsome; the quay being
lined with a series of lofty stone mansions, built in the style which is
now beginning to be adopted in London. The public buildings are
particularly fine, and there are two splendid bridges, one of stone, and
one upon the suspension principle. Very extensive improvements are
going on, and it seems as if, in the course of a very few years, the worst
portions of the town will be replaced by new and elegant erections.
Meantime, imagination can scarcely afford more than a faint idea of the
horrors of the narrow, dirty streets, flanked on either side by lofty
squalid houses, in the very last stage of dilapidation.
The cathedral stands in a small square, or market-place, where the
houses, though somewhat better than their neighbours in