--All you need say of Fontainbleau (in case you are ask'd) is, that it stands about forty miles (south something) from Paris, in the middle of a large forest--That there is something great in it--That the king goes there once every two or three years, with his whole court, for the pleasure of the chace--and that, during that carnival of sporting, any English gentleman of fashion (you need not forget yourself) may be accommodated with a nag or two, to partake of the sport, taking care only not to out-gallop the king--

Though there are two reasons why you need not talk loud of this to every one.

First, Because 'twill make the said nags the harder to be got; and Secondly, 'Tis not a word of it true.--Allons!

As for Sens--you may dispatch--in a word--''Tis an archiepiscopal see.'

--For Joigny--the less, I think, one says of it the better.

But for Auxerre--I could go on for ever: for in my grand tour through Europe, in which, after all, my father (not caring to trust me with any one) attended me himself, with my uncle Toby, and Trim, and Obadiah, and indeed most of the family, except my mother, who being taken up with a project of knitting my father a pair of large worsted breeches--(the thing is common sense)--and she not caring to be put out of her way, she staid at home, at Shandy Hall, to keep things right during the expedition; in which, I say, my father stopping us two days at Auxerre, and his researches being ever of such a nature, that they would have found fruit even in a desert--he has left me enough to say upon Auxerre: in short, wherever my father went--but 'twas more remarkably so, in this journey through France and Italy, than in any other stages of his life--his road seemed to lie so much on one side of that, wherein all other travellers have gone before him--he saw kings and courts and silks of all colours, in such strange lights--and his remarks and reasonings upon the characters, the manners, and customs of the countries we pass'd over, were so opposite to those of all other mortal men, particularly those of my uncle Toby and Trim--(to say nothing of myself)--and to crown all--the occurrences and scrapes which we were perpetually meeting and getting into, in consequence of his systems and opiniotry--they were of so odd, so mix'd and tragi-comical a contexture--That the whole put together, it appears of so different a shade and tint from any tour of Europe, which was ever executed--that I will venture to pronounce--the fault must be mine and mine only--if it be not read by all travellers and travel-readers, till travelling is no more,--or which comes to the same point--till the world, finally, takes it into its head to stand still.----But this rich bale is not to be open'd now; except a small thread or two of it, merely to unravel the mystery of my father's stay at Auxerre.

--As I have mentioned it--'tis too slight to be kept suspended; and when 'tis wove in, there is an end of it.

We'll go, brother Toby, said my father, whilst dinner is coddling--to the abbey of Saint Germain, if it be only to see these bodies, of which Monsieur Sequier has given such a recommendation.--I'll go see any body, quoth my uncle Toby; for he was all compliance through every step of the journey--Defend me! said my father--they are all mummies--Then one need not shave; quoth my uncle Toby--Shave! no--cried my father--'twill be more like relations to go with our beards on--So out we sallied, the corporal lending his master his arm, and bringing up the rear, to the abbey of Saint Germain.