The White Cliffs of Dover.
(From the picture by J.M.W. Turner, R.A.)
3. About twenty miles of sea lie between this town and France. At once I went on board the small steamer which was to take me across. The sea was smooth and the sun was shining.
4. I stood on the deck looking at the white cliffs of dear old England. When I could see them no longer I found that we were not far from France.
5. In about an hour we reached a French town which in olden days belonged to us. The steamer sailed right up to the railway station.
6. I had something to eat, and then took my place in the train. Soon we were speeding towards Paris, the chief town of France.
7. I looked out of the window most of the time. We ran through many meadows and cornfields. Here and there I saw rows of poplar trees between the fields.
8. Now and then we crossed rivers with barges on them. On and on we went, past farmhouses and little villages, each with its church. The French villages look brighter than ours. I think this is because the houses are painted in gay colours.
