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entered it. The rain came literally upon our poor bodies in sluices, off the bushes. Poor Essel was now hardly able to move or speak; however, this was preferable, we thought, to the risk of going into the village, where we suspected that gens d’armes might be lurking, being so near a large town. We continued in this miserable plight until about four o’clock, when Mr. Essel became quite weak and feeble, and the rest of our little party were not much better; which induced as to quit this wretched place and endeavour to get shelter in a house, let the consequence be what it might. Accordingly we approached a single hut at a short distance from the village – entered it, and found in it a poor old peasant and two lads, who proved to be his sons; they were shivering over a few cinders, and appeared very miserable. We requested they would make a fire, and allow us to dry our things and warm ourselves; which they did, upon our promising payment; they seemed to be very much astonished at our appearance, and greatly at a loss to know who and what we were. The fire being now made, we proceeded to wring the water out of our clothes, and to endeavour to get them dry. We made the old peasant bring us some bread; he also gave us a little butter, which by chance he had in the house, the old dame, his wife, having taken all the rest that morning to St. Quentin’s market. We imagined we should do extremely well, if he would allow us to remain all night even by the fire-side; as it was impossible to attempt to travel, it rained so excessively hard. This we intimated to our venerable host; but he without hesitation assured us it was out of his power. There was a public house in the village, he observed, where we could get supplied with every thing we might want; and as it was so very near, there could be no great difficulty attending our getting there. At that moment two peasants were passing his door, and he added, ‘those two men belong to the village, they will point out the house to you.’ He then called them; they appeared very civil – there was no alternative, so we paid the old man for his fire, bread, butter, &c. and accepted of the offer of these men. The figure of this said host of ours, is still before me. He was a tall, thin, squinting fellow, with an iron countenance, that gave the unfortunate but little to expect. We soon arrived at the village, and to our inexpressible joy found it to be a very miserable one. Our guides shewed us the public house, and went away. We entered it, and found the good landlady had nothing to give us but bread and eggs: and no bed, but a loft full of clean hay. This was the only inn (as they termed it) in the village. We appeared to hesitate, whether we should remain here or proceed to the next considerable town, St. Quentin; inquiring what distance it might be. Our hostess replied, not above three or four miles to a tolerably large village. It rained too hard, we told her, to go that distance, and inconvenient as it was, we would remain with her and sleep in the hay-loft that night, in preference to being exposed any longer to the inclemency of the weather. This was indeed the kind of tavern and lodgings that suited us; I was never more pleased than at this reception. We got a good fire made, completed the drying of our clothes,
