The author refers to his promise made in Book 1, Chapter 22 to "write two volumes every year" for 40 years — provided that he stays alive and well. But he is not so well; the main thing that buoys him up is his "spirits": "in no one moment of my existence . . . have ye once deserted me, . . . and when DEATH himself knocked at my door — ye bad him come again; and in so gay a tone of careless indifference, did ye do it, that he doubted of his commission." He is even miffed by the fact that Death called on him while he was telling a dirty story to Eugenius. He decides to flee Death by taking a trip to France, and he describes his travels while he is about it.
The trip across the Channel is quite rough, and he and the other passengers are glad to get ashore. He must then make a choice among the three roads that go from Calais to Paris. Since he is in Calais, he asks himself whether he ought not to describe it. He really doesn't want to, however, and he asks the reader why "a man cannot go quietly through a town, and let it alone, when it does not meddle with him."
He writes a little travelogue description of Calais, nevertheless, gaily offering to add a little history in "Rapin's own words" that "will not take up above fifty pages." Kindness keeps him from it: "But courage! gentle reader! — I scorn it — 'tis enough to have thee in my power." Then on to Boulogne.
Feeling himself pursued by Death, Tristram urges the coachman to make haste. His fellow passengers assume that he is pursued by the law, and they speculate in low voices about his crimes. (Tristram, meanwhile, is occupied with flirting with a pretty girl.) He realizes that his desire for haste makes him unfair to the coaches and coachmen, but he can't resist pointing out "that something is always wrong in a French post-chaise upon first setting out": "a rope's broke! — a knot has slipt! — a staple's drawn" or the coachman has to get down and take his sandwich out of the bag. A little bribe will usually make him rush, and the coach reaches Montreuil.
