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them. I had before told her of having been at Paris, when she quietly took off her blue apron. What a nice-looking young woman she is! I speak to her of the system of Froebel, as they call it at Paris, or the Kindergarten, and she has not heard of it. As we are going and returning from our brief visit, we see four to six children at the ancient brick chapel in the cross-roads. "What are they doing?" I say to Marie. Playing," the plies. "Why do they not go to school?” don't want to," she answers. But one has a big basket in which to pick up manure, and one has a child on her back. "They are keeping the younger ones," I say, "while their mothers are in the fields;" which Marie does not deny. They are all girls, with dark caps on their heads.


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I have before spoken of the school examinations in France. I learn now that at one lately held here at the cantonal town there were twenty girls who received the certificate of studies, but there were none from this commune. Marie Salmier, I am told, was sufficiently advanced, but the nuns did not send her, saying that they would wait another year and then there would be two. Nevertheless, the inspector questioned her, and said that she could have received the certificate. "But, as the Sisters did not send you, you were not received," I say to Marie. "There must be papers to be received,” the quiet girl answers. "What kind of papers?" I ask. "A certificate of birth," says Marie. O France! what a France thou art!

After my visit to the girls' school, I tell Mrs. Salmier of my not being shown any exercises. I had previously told her about my visit to the cathedral at Cambray, and about my having gone into a place where there were great books on stands, and how I had been told that it was not permitted. "It was the choir," she replied, in a kind of awe

mingled with amusement. Now, when I tell her of the manner of my reception at the girls' school, she inquires whether I told the Sisters that I was in the choir. She says that women are not admitted there. "But why not women?" I ask, and she seems unable to explain.

Mr. Salmier tells me that children of ten go every day to the church to be examined by the curé in the catechism preparatory to the first communion, which takes place about eleven. He says also that they learn the New Testament. "Do you know the New Testament?" he asks. I smile, and answer that we have it. He adds that they learn sacred history. I say, "You do not have the Testament itself;" which he does not deny.

To the boys' school Mrs. Salmier accompanies me. This also is a new building; and the school is taught by a young man of twenty-three, from the normal school at Douai. When I ask Mrs. Salmier whether he obtained the brevet, or diploma, she replies that he would not be here if he had not. The building is very good, but the benches for large and small pupils are all of one height. I find the boys quite intelligent, but they cannot tell me any other way of coming from my country than by the Atlantic Ocean. The teacher asks about our schools; he supposes that we are beginning to have them. Whereupon I tell him that in some of our States they have been established two hundred years. He says that the children here pay for their books: they are well off. I tell him that our scholars do not; and he thinks that they would not be willing to accept this here. I offer to try to send him the book of American compositions of which I have before spoken. When we go out into the yard,—a good-sized one,—

I see a house on the other side of the yard with the door open; it is his own house, and he invites us over. How neat it is, with its tiled floor (the tiles red, and so nicely sanded), with its curtains and no flies! His wife is away from home. One end of the house is occupied by the mayor's office. Afterwards we walk into the teacher's garden, which he takes care of himself. It is of a good size, and is well kept. We compare salaries. I tell him of schools in America that are open six months and pay forty dollars a month. Here the school is open until the latter part of August, and begins again on the first of October. He receives from the commune one thousand francs a year and his comfortable dwelling and good garden. Then he gives private lessons, by which he earns as much as his salary. Is not that fine? I hear from him that all schools, public and private, may go to the concours, or competitive examination, which was established, for schools of this grade, three years ago. Girls were not invited until this year.

When Mr. Druvet built the nice school-room for girls (the law now requiring that boys and girls shall be separate), he offered it to the commune on condition that the Sisters of St. Anne should teach the school; the commune feared, not the Sisters, but the expense, and hesitated. Then somebody sent word to Lisle, and the sub-prefect came down here, not the great man himself, but his vice, and the matter was settled. And the sub-prefect wanted to know if we had not a map of the world, and said that he would see that we had one. Now it hangs in the boys' school, and on it I am able to show to Mrs. Salmier my own country, and how I came here; and point out California, of whose gold she has heard, and Mexico, of which she has also heard; and I

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am also able to show the boys in what other way they can come from my country but by the Atlantic. Thanks to that great man, the sub-prefect! He is a greater man than the lieutenent-governor of Rhode Island, in so far as his is a life-office. Before the revolution of 1848 the parents paid the teacher; now those who send children pay a certain sum for each child to the tax-collector, and thus the teacher is paid. Isn't that progress? It may be worth while to observe that while the commune pays this young man one thousand francs, it pays the two Sisters six hundred only.

At one time when I meet this young man something is said about there being no fires in the seminary where the curés study (except for cooking). He replies that they have none during the three years' course at the normal school, and that it is to make them hardy; but I tell him that it is to save money.

Marie shows me her two sacred histories,-one the little one which is used at school, and the other for her to read. They have no Bible nor Testament in the house, and I inquire whether there is one in the village. "The curé ought to have one," is the answer, Marie thinks that she has a Bible, and brings me a moderate-sized book, lettered on the outside The Holy Bible. It is the larger book just mentioned. This is the fifth edition. Written by an abbé, approved by the bishop of Amiens, and authorized by the academic council of Douai. We find it to be a "History of the Holy Bible, with edifying explanations drawn from the holy Fathers." In chapter iv. we read of the punishment of Adam,—that it was not the penitence of Adam and Eve, but Jesus Christ our Lord, who repaired

the evil, and he did it in so advantageous a manner that the Church can now call the sin of Adam a necessary sin, and his fault a very fortunate fault. In chapter xiv., regarding the birth of Isaac, we are told that the holy Fathers admire the virtues that break forth in this story, the great charity of Abraham in receiving Iris guests, and the great modesty of Sarah. "Very far," says St. Ambrose, "from imitating the persons of her sex, who seek only to show themselves in public under the pretext of exercising works of charity, she, on the contrary, remained always shut up in her tent, without even appearing before the angels whom her husband received. Thus she taught Christian women," says the same Father, "that their life ought to be continually passed in the secrecy of their house and the care of their family." These extracts are from the book lettered on the outside The Holy Bible. The little sacred history of primary schools is also by a churchman, illustrated by sixty drawings; is approved by Pius IX., by one cardinal, several archbishops, etc.; its use authorized in the public schools by the minister of public instruction. Sixteenth edition, Paris, 1875. Sacred history, the author tells us, is, like the Bible, divided into two parts,-"Sacred history is the word of God."

Of the school-books in use in the girls' school, I see a little French history adapted to the youngest pupils, also by a churchman,—a doctor of theology. Twenty-second edition, Paris, 1875. In speaking of Henry IV. (the Protestant), the author says that he was heir to the throne, "but the people then had too ardent a faith to obey a heretical king."

The teacher of the boys' school is so kind also as to show me a couple of their books. One is a very small sacred

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