FRENCH AND BELGIANS.

PART I.

PARIS..

CHAPTER I.

1878, April 27th.-I land at Dieppe, in the north of France, having crossed the English Channel from New Haven. The most striking object, as we approach the shore, is the great crucifix raised aloft with the image of the agonizing Jesus, the head surrounded by gilded rays. And next I notice the mansard roofs. It seems to me that there is more dirt and more freedom than in England. As I wish to walk out and see the town, they will set my box into a little room free of charge. The only question asked of me by the customs' officer is whether I have any tea. You may have studied French for years, and scarcely understand a word of the babel which strikes the ear on land

ing. I walk out for fifteen minutes to get a glance at Dieppe, a town in Normandy, containing twelve thousand people. Women are walking the street in caps. There is a donkey with panniers and a high old wooden saddle. How many women on the street! How much fish! It is Saturday, and the market is still animated, although it is towards noon. What quantities of women are selling fish,

mostly or entirely without bonnets, but wearing white caps. I hear that the men are out catching fish. How willing the people are to give information! I buy a large, but poor and withered apple for two sous, and see butter in an enormous earthen pot, butter which smells to heaven and sells at eighteen sous the French pound, which is about one-tenth heavier than ours.*

Upon a sign is "The widow of Ls. Angot and her sons, Wines and Brandies." I lunch at the buffet of the railroad station, the butter being very good, with little or no salt.

By my train it is four and a half hours from Dieppe to Paris. Although it is still April, and far north, some horses and cattle are already out grazing, but they appear to be tied. Colza is growing, with its bright yellow flowers of the color of mustard blossoms, but larger. In England it is called rape. The seeds are used for making oil, which is burnt in France. The trees are very pretty and striking after the bare hills around New Haven, in the south of England. Afterwards I see quite a number of wooded hillsides. The woods are enchanting in the tender green of spring with the bright sunlight; they contrast well with a manufacturing town through which we pass. In my division of the car is a young Englishwoman, married to a young Frenchman. She speaks a little French, and he a little English. He says to me,-ours is a second-class car,"Will you permit I smoke?" She has a parrot in a cage, the same that was on the boat last night. They live in or near Paris. We pass through Rouen, but stop only ten minutes; so I do not go to see where Joan of Arc was burned. The young woman with the parrot tells me that the heart of

* The French sou nearly equals our cent. Twenty sous make a franc, worth about nineteen cents.

Richard Cœur de Lion is here, and that I can be shown the church by paying a small sum. I observe after leaving Rouen that the ground is planted greatly in strips or bits, and the expense of fencing is almost entirely dispensed with, as the cattle are tied. We pass through a number of manufacturing places. Although it is Saturday, many clothes are still out drying or bleaching. We see the broad Seine often between Rouen and Paris. Many of the roofs are of tiles, and many are thatched; one I see is of slate, but I note none of shingles. Although there is fence or hedge along the railroad, yet a broad meadow upon the Seine seems to be undivided for a mile or more, which I imagine must be food for lawsuits; afterwards I learn that low stones are set to mark corners. There seem to be more tunnels upon the road than we have, and a lamp burns all the time in the car. On one of the little patches of ground a flock of sheep is grazing, guarded by a man and dog. Were there two or three times as many, it seems to me that they would cover the bit of ground entirely. Not a very beautiful object is a row of Lombardy poplars, so straightsided and tall. Other trees are trimmed nearly to the top; as I suppose, that they may not shade the ground, for I have not yet learned how scarce fuel is in France. There is very nice agriculture, but the hillside looks strange when thus cultivated in patches,-oblong bits of green and bits of brown. At a town stands a machine marked "Force, 20,000 kil.," the French kilogramme being about equal to two and one-fifth of our pounds. I see masses that I suppose to be mistletoe. These are dark green, and look strange upon trees that are putting on their spring foliage. Not all the land is good and cultivated. Some is gravelly, with sorrel growing among the grass; and again there is brush, or young wood, but another hillside shows greatly

variegated with green and brown irregular patchwork, and in the midst a village or town. Approaching Paris, we pass through a long stretch of poor ground grown up with wood or brush, or lying uncultivated; afterwards I observe that fruit-trees become numerous, and there are pieces of cultivated ground stuck with stakes like pieces of our fence-rails. These, as I infer, are vineyards, but not yet green.

On arriving at Paris, I see that the people have not the ruddy look of the English, but I notice one plump person with a good color. He is a tall man in a very neat, long, black robe, and he is an ecclesiastic of the Catholic Church. Among many other signs, I observe one of Madame

midwife of the first class. At length I find the residence of the gentleman to whom I am especially recommended. It is in a rather handsome quarter, near a celebrated church. Finding the number, I go into one of the stores upon the ground floor to inquire for Mr. C., but here I am referred to the concierge, or door-keeper. So I enter a great door and a carriage-way, and on the left side find the small room of the concierge, whose wife tells me that Mr. C. is "at the fifth," which means up five flights of stairs. I enter the handsome door on the other side of the carriage-way, and find the ascent easy, though long. When I get up, there are two doors with bell-pulls. I ring at the right hand. No one comes, and it is now near nightfall. I sit down on a cushioned seat, and a gentleman comes up stairs and rings also. He thinks the domestic may have gone to the cellar. He says, however, that Mr. C. will soon be in, as he is to receive some gentlemen. He has called to tell him not to expect him. I receive the message, and he goes. Hearing a sound within, I ring again, and a woman-servant comes. Mr. C. is in, and I