They order, said I, this matter better in France.&mdash;You have been in France? said my gentleman, turning quick upon me, with the most civil triumph in the world.&mdash;Strange! quoth I, debating the matter with myself, That one and twenty miles sailing, for &rsquo;tis absolutely no further from Dover to Calais, should give a man these rights:&mdash;I&rsquo;ll look into them: so, giving up the argument,&mdash;I went straight to my lodgings, put up half a dozen shirts and a black pair of silk breeches,&mdash;&ldquo;the coat I have on,&rdquo; said I, looking at the sleeve, &ldquo;will do;&rdquo;&mdash;took a place in the Dover stage; and the packet sailing at nine the next morning,&mdash;by three I had got sat down to my dinner upon a fricaseed chicken, so incontestably in France, that had I died that night of an indigestion, the whole world could not have suspended the effects of the droits d&rsquo;aubaine; [557]&mdash;my shirts, and black pair of silk breeches,&mdash;portmanteau and all, must have gone to the King of France;&mdash;even the little picture which I have so long worn, and so often have told thee, Eliza, I would carry with me into my grave, would have been torn from my neck!&mdash;Ungenerous! to seize upon the wreck of an unwary passenger, whom your subjects had beckoned to their coast!&mdash;By heaven! Sire, it is not well done; and much does it grieve me, &rsquo;tis the monarch of a people so civilized and courteous, and so renowned for sentiment and fine feelings, that I have to reason with!&mdash;<br />But I have scarce set a foot in your dominions.&mdash;