M. PICARD MAKES HIS FIRST VOYAGE TO AFRICA, LEAVING AT PARIS HIS WIFE AND TWO YOUNG DAUGHTERS—DEATH OF MADAME PICARD—THE CHILDREN TAKEN HOME TO THE HOUSE OF THEIR GRANDFATHER—RETURN OF M. PICARD AFTER NINE YEARS ABSENCE—HE MARRIES AGAIN, AND DEPARTS A SHORT WHILE AFTER, WITH ALL HIS FAMILY, FOR SENEGAL—DESCRIPTION OF THE JOURNEY BETWEEN PARIS AND ROCHEFORT.

About the beginning of 1800, my father solicited and obtained the situation of resident attorney at Senegal, on the west coast of Africa. My mother was then nursing my youngest sister, and could not be persuaded to expose us, at so tender an age, to the fatigue and danger of so long a voyage. At this period I was not quite two years old.

It was then resolved that my father should go alone, and that we should join him on the following year; but my mother's hopes were disappointed, war having rendered impossible all communication with our colonies. In despair, at a separation which placed her nearly two thousand leagues from her husband, and ignorant how long it might continue, she soon after fell into a languid condition; and death deprived us of her, at the end of five years of suffering. My grandfather, at whose house we had hitherto lived, now became both father and mother to us; and I owe it to the good old man to say, that his care and attention soon made us forget we were orphans. Too young to reflect, that the condition of happiness which we enjoyed under his guardianship would ever have an end, we lived without a care for the future, and our years glided on in perfect tranquillity.

Thus were we living when, in 1809, the English captured the colony of Senegal, and permitted our father to return to his family. But what a change did he meet with on his arrival at Paris! Wife, home, furniture, friends, had all disappeared; and nothing remained but two young daughters, who refused to acknowledge him for their father: so much were our young minds habituated to see and love but one in the world—the worthy old man who had watched over our infancy.

In 1810, our father thought fit to marry a second time; but a great misfortune befel his children in the death of their grandfather. Our tears were scarcely dry, when we were conducted home to her who had become our second mother. We would hardly acknowledge her. Our sorrow was excessive, and the loss we had sustained irreparable. But they strove to comfort us; dresses, playthings, amusements in abundance, were given to us to obliterate the loss of our best friend. In this state of perfect happiness we were living, when the armies of the Allies entered Paris in 1814.

France having had the good fortune to recover her King, and with him the blessing of peace, an expedition was fitted out at Brest to go and resume possession of Senegal, which had been restored to us. My father was instantly reinstated in his place of resident attorney, and went in the month of November to Brest.

As our family had become more numerous since the second marriage of my father, he could only take with him our stepmother and the younger children. My sister Caroline and myself were placed in a boarding school at Paris, until the Minister of Marine and the Colonies would grant us a passage; but the events of 1815 caused the expedition to Senegal to be abandoned, while it was still in the harbour of Brest, and all the officers dismissed. My father then returned to Paris, leaving at Brest my stepmother, who was then in an unfit condition for travelling.

In 1816, a new expedition was fitted out. My father was ordered to repair to Rochefort, whence it was to set off. He took measures also for taking along with him his wife, who had remained at Brest during the "hundred days." The design of our accompanying him to Africa, obliged him to address a new petition to the Minister of Marine, praying him to grant us all a passage, which he obtained.

The 23d of May was the day on which we were to quit the capital, our relations and friends. In the meanwhile, my sister and myself left the boarding school where we had been placed, and went to take farewell of all those who were dear to us. One cousin, who loved us most tenderly, could not hear of our approaching departure without shedding tears; and as it was impossible for her to change our destiny, she offered to share it. Immediately she appeared before the minister, and M. le Baron Portal, struck with a friendship which made her encounter the dangers of so long a voyage, granted her request.

At last, a beautiful morning announced to us the afflicting moment when we were to quit Paris. The postilion, who was to convey us to Rochefort, was already at the door of the house in which we lived, to conduct us to his carriage, which waited for us at the OrlÉans gate. Immediately an old hackney coach appeared; my father stept into it, and in an instant it was filled. The impatient coachman cracked his whip, sparks flashed from the horse's feet, and the street of Lille, which we had just quitted, was soon far behind us. On arriving before the garden of the Luxumbourg, the first rays of the morning's sun darted fiercely through the foliage, as if to say, you forsake the zephyrs in quitting this beautiful abode. We reached the Observatory, and in an instant passed the gate d'Enfer. There, as yet for a moment to breathe the air of the capital, we alighted at the Hotel du Pantheon, where we found our carriage. After a hasty breakfast, the postilion arranged our trunks, and off again we set. It was nearly seven in the morning when we quitted the gates of Paris, and we arrived that evening at the little village of d'Etampes, where our landlord, pressing us to refresh ourselves, almost burned his inn in making us an omelet with rotten eggs. The flames, ascending the old chimney, soon rose to the roof of the house, but they succeeded in extinguishing them. We were, however, regaled with a smoke which made us shed tears. It was broad day when we quitted d'Etampes; and our postilion, who had spent the greater part of the night in drinking with his comrades, was something less than polite. We reproached him, but he made light of the circumstance; for, in the evening, he was completely drunk. On the twenty-fifth of May, at ten in the morning, my father told me we were already thirty-two leagues from Paris. Thirty-two leagues! cried I; alas, so far! Whilst I made this reflection, we arrived at OrlÉans. Here we remained about three hours to refresh ourselves as well as our horses. We could not leave the place without visiting the statue raised in honour of Joan of Arc, that extraordinary woman, to whom the monarchy once owed its safety.

On leaving OrlÉans, the Loire, and the fertile pastures through which it rolls its waters, excited our admiration. We had on our right the beautiful vineyards of Beaugency. The road, as far as Amboise, is delightful. I then began to think, that Paris and its environs might perhaps be forgotten, if the country of Senegal, to which we were going, was as fine as that through which we were journeying. We slept at Amboise, which, being situated at the confluence of the Loire and the Maise, presents a most agreeable appearance.

When we set off, the sun began to show us verdant groves, watered by the majestic course of the river. His disk looked like a glorious lustre suspended in the azure vault of heaven. Our road was studded on both sides with lofty poplars, which seemed to shoot their pyramidal heads into the clouds. On our left was the Loire, and on our right a large rivulet, whose crystal waters every where reflected the bright beams of the sun. The birds, with their songs, celebrated the beauty of the day, whilst the dews, in the form of pearls, quivering fell from the tender boughs, fanned by the zephyrs. A thousand picturesque objects presented themselves to our view. On the one hand were delightful groves, the sweet flowers of which perfumed the air we breathed; on the other, a clear fountain sprang bubbling from the crevice of a rock, and, after falling from the top of a little hill among a tuft of flowers, bent its devious course to join the waters of the river. More distant, a small wood of filbert trees served as a retreat to the ringdoves who cooed, and the nightingales who chanted the spring.

We enjoyed this truly enchanting spectacle till we arrived at Tours. But as our route from OrlÉans had been diversified and agreeable, from the latter place to Rochefort it was monotonous and tiresome. However, the towns of Chatellerault, Poitiers, and Niort made a slight change in the sameness of the scene. From Niort to Rochefort the road was nearly impassable. We were frequently obliged to alight from the carriage, in order to allow the horses to drag it out from the deep ruts which we met. In approaching to a hamlet, named Charente, we stuck so fast in the mud, that even after removing the trunks and other baggage, we found it almost next to an impossibility to drag it out. We were in the midst of a wood, and no village within view. It was then resolved to wait till some good soul would be passing, who would assist to extricate us from our embarrassment. After vainly waiting a long hour for this expected succour, the first people who appeared were travelling merchants, who would not stay on any account to give us assistance. At length we saw a young lady upon a little path, which was at the extremity of the wood, walking with a book in her hand. My father instantly ran towards her, and acquainted her with our situation. This lady, far from acting like the travellers we formerly met, went to an adjoining field where were some farmers at work, and requested them to go with their oxen to free us from our jeopardy, and returned herself with them. When our carriage was put in a condition to continue our route, she invited us to refresh ourselves in her country seat, situated in the middle of the wood. We then took the cross-way, and returned with our carriage at the instance of the amiable lady, who received us in the most affable and generous manner. She offered us at first some pears, which were already very good; after which we were served with an exquisite collation, at the end of which a child, beautiful as the loves, presented us with a basket filled with the fairest flowers of the spring. We accepted the gift of Flora, in testimony of our regard for our generous landlady and her charming child. Traversing after that the park of our hospitable hostess, we rejoined the route to Rochefort.

In paying this just tribute of remembrance to the offices of that person who gave us so great assistance, I cannot resist the pleasure of mentioning her name. She is the wife of M. TÉlotte, superior officer of the general magazine at Rochefort.

Already the masts of the ships appeared in the horizon, and we heard in the distance a hollow and confused sound, like that made by a multitude of people engaged in various occupations. On approaching nearer to Rochefort, we found that the tumult we heard was caused by the labourers in the wood-yards and the galley-slaves, who, painfully dragging their fetters, attended to the various labours of the port. Having entered the town, the first picture which presented itself to our eyes was that of these unfortunate creatures, who, coupled two and two by enormous chains, are forced to carry the heaviest burdens. It may be mentioned, in passing, that the sight is not very attracting to young ladies who have never been out of Paris; for, in spite of all the repugnance we can have for those who are condemned by the laws to live apart from society, we can never look with indifference on that crowd of thinking beings, degraded, by following their vicious actions, to a level with the beasts of burden.

My mind was yet occupied with these painful reflections, when my father, opening the door of the carriage, requested us to follow him into an hotel in the street Dauphine, where already were our stepmother and our young brothers and sisters, who had returned with her from Brest. Soon our numerous family were again united. What transports of joy, what saluting and embracing! O! there is nothing comparable to the pleasure of meeting with those we love after a long absence!

My father went to visit the officers who were to make the voyage to Senegal along with us. My step-mother busied herself in preparing supper, and my sister Caroline, my cousin, and myself, went to sleep; for any farther exercise but ill accorded with the fatigue we had already undergone; otherwise we could easily have sat till supper, after having eat of the good things we had had at the farm of Charente.

We spent the morrow, the 3d of June, in running about the town. In the space of two hours we had seen every thing worth seeing. What a fine thing a maritime town is for a maker of romances! But as I have neither talents nor desire to write one, and as I have promised to the reader to adhere strictly to the truth, I will content myself by telling him, that in nine days I was tired of Rochefort.