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The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
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Text for Page 083 [06-12-1855]

where stood the Lighthouse.     Many idlers were assembled here, look-
ing forth on the Channel, above a lovely sunset sky, with here
and there a sharply defined star, the gradations of color in the
atmosphere being unspeakably beautiful.     A small crowd had as-
sembled round a boy who lay, apparently, in a fit; a number of women
were hauling in a small barque; lively girls in caps sans bonnet, or
sh only wearing their sleek soft hair paced about, and English ser-
vants, with extreme straitness of outline smoked cigars and talked
Mayfair dialect.     Returning to our Caf�, we had a bottle of wine,
and presently a rapid run to the Dep�t, a soldier quickening us
by the way with �Allez! vite!�    Our Swiss friend enters the first
class; we, in the second are confined with seven other perspiring
mortals, on a close summer�s night.     And thus we start off, jour-
neying through France, and the night.   Soldiers appear at all the
stations, and much expenditure of excitability and French occurs.
The carriage is superior to an English second class one, but the
over crowding induces a lively sense of the old torture of �des Oubliettes.�
Our fellow traveller are all British; with the exception of a very
ugly little, elderly Frenchman, with a blunt, shapeless nose, a
mouth like an aged toad�s, and a projecting chin, who sits in a
corner, and presently goes to sleep, with his face indenting the top of
his hat.     Opposite me is a Londonish young fellow, and a girl,
I presume his sister, who yawns wearily as the night wanes.
  13.  Wednesday.   As the day dawns on our left, presenting
a bright light beneath an uprising curtain of cloud, resting as on
columnar bases, the night travellers look ludicrously miserable. No
fences or hedgerows are seen in the landscape on either hand, no               
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