# Letters from the Old World/Number 5

This letter describes a hilarious ordeal at the La Havre Customs House, and a short stroll near the docks.
HAVRE DE GRACE,
February 5th, 1862.
We reached Southampton just before dark; and had only time for a short walk around the town.—Of course our first object of interest was the Nashville, which we found just putting out to sea. She is a small, ordinary looking vessel, which I devoutly hoped the Tuscarora would overhaul. The after was at Yarmouth, in the Isle of Wight. There are two channels leading out from what is known as Southampton water; one via Spithead, and past Portsmouth and Ryde, and the others passed Yarmouth. The eastern channel is deep enough for vessels only of small size, and it was deemed doubtful whether the Nashville would be able to pass through. She was seen, however, by the hands on our steamer making full sail westward. The chances that the Tuscarora will catch her are very small.
The fashionable routes from London to Paris are by Folkestone and Boulogne, and by Dover and Calais. The New Haven and Dieppe route is by far the cheapest, and probably as comfortable as any other. They give you a through ticket at London for Paris—the price, between one and two sovereigns. This, however, does not include sleeping accommodations on board steamer; three francs, equal to about fifty cents, entitle you to a bunk in the forward cabin about five feet long by one foot wide, which would do passably well for children were it not for the bugs and bad odor; these combined render sleep impossible and hardly a rest.— We reached Havre in the morning. This harbor from its name one would suppose to be the most favored in the world. On the contrary, it is about as despicable a one as can be found. The tide rises and falls with great rapidity, and we found on nearing the entrance that we were just in time to be too late. The alternative was to remain on the vessel two hours or trust to the skill of a boatman, who could not speak a word of English, in a little boat, with a tide running like a mill stream, and thus gain the shore. We chose the latter. After half an hour’s pulling we reached the dock, and were landed, with our effects, under the shadow of a tall fort. A huge pair of whiskers concealed the face of a very bland, but extremely perplexing French officer, who demanded our passports. These were delivered up, to be returned at the city wall at noon. The porter conducted us to the Custom House, where they proceeded to search, or as they call it, to visit, us very thoroughly. In my trunk they found a cigar box neatly done up; they naturally enough supposed this to contain cigars, and were proceeding to open it. A careful doctor, however, had provided a few pills, etc., and had placed them for me in this box, and I did not want it opened, so I sang out, in French, “Monsieur, do not open that—’tis not cigars but medicine;” which translated is “not cigars but the doctor.” The bystanders roared; and even the examiner, when he put the box back in the trunk, grinned slightly. I thought I had committed some awful mistake, but I had only neglected to emphasize “medeseen”—I called it as it is spelled. These custom house officials on the continent come across many strange characters, and hear many ridiculous sayings. My mistake therefore will not be probably much more thought than that of the gentleman who at a public table held in his hand a huge loaf of bread, and called to the boy to bring him a canif (pen knife) to cut it.
Havre seems to be a quiet, respectable sort of a place, half ancient, half modern, full of old market women, big drays drawn by little horses, and wooden shoes. The latter worn by all the children, and by most of the peasants. There are several old and quite fine churches in this city. The City Hall, at the end of the principal street, is rather a stylish building, after the French chateau plan. They also boast a museum and public library, situated on the docks. At the gate are two statues, one of which represents Benardine St. Pierre, who was a native of this place, and the author of “Paul and Virginia.” They have also a Bourse, and several quite pretty parks; and no doubt many fine things which I have not the time to investigate.
L. X.