Swiss gentleman of Basil, undertook the conduct of the journey: we
left London the 19th of June, crossed the sea from Dover to Calais,
travelled post through several provinces of France, by the direct
road of St. Quentin, Rheims, Langres, and Besancon, and arrived the
30th of June at Lausanne, where I was immediately settled under the
roof and tuition of Mr. Pavilliard, a Calvinist minister.

The first marks of my father's displeasure rather astonished than
afflicted me: when he threatened to banish, and disown, and
disinherit a rebellious son, I cherished a secret hope that he would
not be able or willing to effect his menaces; and the pride of
conscience encouraged me to sustain the honourable and important
part which I was now acting. My spirits were raised and kept alive
by the rapid motion of my journey, the new and various scenes of the
Continent, and the civility of Mr. Frey, a man of sense, who was not
ignorant of books or the world. But after he had resigned me into
Pavilliard's hands, and I was fixed in my new habitation, I had
leisure to contemplate the strange and melancholy prospect before
me. My first complaint arose from my ignorance of the language. In
my childhood I had once studied the French grammar, and I could
imperfectly understand the easy prose of a familiar subject. But
when I was thus suddenly cast on a foreign land, I found myself
deprived of the use of speech and of hearing; and, during some
weeks, incapable not only of enjoying the pleasures of conversation,
but even of asking or answering a question in the common intercourse
of life. To a home-bred Englishman every object, every custom was
offensive; but the native of any country might have been disgusted
with the general aspect of his lodging and entertainment. I had now
exchanged my elegant apartment in Magdalen College, for a narrow,
gloomy street, the most unfrequented of an unhandsome town, for an