One little stout man, in a long cloak, attached himself to our side, not so much with a view of affording us _his_ protection, as to obtain it at our hands.

He looked very pale and cold; and as he trudged along in the mud, addressed me frequently, in tremulous tones, requesting to know my opinion as to the state of _the ocean_; whether I did not fear that it would be very rough and very dangerous, confessing that he felt pretty sure such would be the case, though he had never seen the sea before, and hoping I would not be alarmed.

I assured him I had no fears on that head, as, in the first place, wide as the expanse before us appeared, it was not the _sea_, but the _river_, several leagues from its _embouchure_; next, that it was as calm as a mill-pond, without a breath of wind to ruffle its thick yellow waters.

"Helas!" said he, "you do not seem to care; but perhaps you have no baggage as I have, otherwise you would feel great uneasiness." I found him afterwards on board almost crying after his _effets_, which consisted of a hat-box, carpet-bag, and little bundle, all of which were safely produced.

When we had proceeded about an hour, he came strutting up to us, and, with a patronizing air, exclaimed, "There, you see, there is no reason to be alarmed; I told you so." I gratified him exceedingly by agreeing that he was perfectly right.
The Gironde is, indeed, at this part, like the sea: the opposite shores cannot be distinguished, so broad and fine is the expanse; and the exceedingly ugly colour of the water is, at first, forgotten in the magnitude of the space which surrounds the voyager.
But that we had resolved to make ourselves acquainted with the Roman city of Saintes, we should have followed the usual course, and, on leaving Rochefort, proceeded across the country to Royan, once an insignificant village, now a rather important bathing-place.