going the whole evening, I hear, but the poor girl did not drum all the time: she was transferred to the cymbals.

Monday morning, July 8th.-We had a fine rain last night, and the vines will grow well in this gravelly soil in the garden. Mrs. L. tells me that the farmer had three loads of hay out in the meadow, and when it rained he hurried, and they hitched up oxen and cows and got one load in, but the rain came on, so that they could not get in the rest, and they took out straw to cover it, and were up all night. No wonder that Mrs. L. approves them. Jeanette, the little niece, has gone this morning to school. She stayed at home a while on account of the hay-making, but now she must go again. Toinette was indulged this morning, being allowed to lie until five, instead of rising at four; now she has gone out to pasture the cow. Mrs. L. permits me to help with the breakfast dishes, and afterwards she cleans her sons' Sunday clothes. Then she brings the lilies from the chapel-withered ones-and puts them into a nice little stone bottle; she will put olive or walnut oil upon them to make a preparation for bruises, to last the whole year. At dinner Pierre takes a glass of piquette, saying that they had had too much wine the day before (the fête day). I look at Charles, and he has piquette too.

Pierre tells me for what officers they vote. They are the mayor and municipal counsellors (like the selectmen of a Massachusetts township). The only others for whom they can vote in all their country are one member of the council from every canton to be counsellor of the arrondissement, and one councilman-general from each canton to

go to St. Martin, the chief city of the department. (France is divided into over eighty of these departments, as I have said.) They vote also for deputies to go to Paris, this department sending seven. They do not vote directly for either senator or president.

This afternoon Pierre and I have a lovely walk along the pretty little river of Boissières, which here tumbles down its rocky bed and joins, not far from here, one of the great rivers of France. Beside the stream they are making one of their excellent roads to a mineral spring. Upon our way we meet the agent voyé, or he who inspects the work upon roads. He is on his return this afternoon, because, as he says, the workmen are making the wedding, and he can give no directions, because there are no men at work. Making the wedding means drinking wine all day; and, says Pierre, this is what the ouvriers—the workingmen of France-usually do every Monday. The men upon the public roads, and nearly all hand-workmen, work on Sunday until noon. They are at liberty to stop on Saturday, when they are paid, but very few do. He adds that the dancing-floor in the village was put up on the first Sunday of the fête. It is close to the church, and the curé could hear the noise of the hammers. I tell Pierre that the people in my country have an idea that the French Catholics are governed by their priests, but that it does not seem to be so. "But," I ask, "are not the women more so?" "Somewhat," he answers; "it was different before '93."" "Do you think this an improvement?" "Yes, yes!" (Behold how I avoid the subject of religion!) Pierre continues to speak of the workingmen, saying that they begin to drink on the afternoon of Sunday, and continue until

Monday evening, and the abrutis, or degraded, until they have no more money. Close by us is a restaurant, whence we can hear the noise of the men, and one runs out with his trousers torn, as is not often seen in tidy France. I complain to Pierre of how they are wasting their money. "And suppose they did not spend it?" he replies; "we must always have workmen." I ask him who appointed this road-inspector. "The inspector-general of the department." "And who appoints him?" "The minister of public works." I tell him how we elect our supervisors of roads, but I do not convince him that it would be better for them to do so than to keep an experienced man.

I afterwards tell Mrs. L. about the men who were drinking, and she blames the contractor for allowing them to work on Sunday.

In one of my conversations with Pierre, something is said about their burying the dead so soon, and I want to know why it is done. But the burden is thrown upon me by the question, "And why do you keep the dead two days among you? We keep them only one day, except in cases of sudden death, without illness." He tells me too, doubtless in reply to some remark about the rich here marrying the rich, of a certain count whom he knows, who was a man of broken fortunes, and who married a woman possessing two million francs; but then, he adds, he had the stripes upon his sleeve, and to be an officer goes far.

To return to our afternoon walk;-when we get to the mineral spring we find the bottling going on, for here the people have to work.

We see two women on the bank of the pretty stream. One is washing clothes by dipping them into the cold water and rubbing them upon the stones. Pierre says

that they will be well done. (Perhaps she had before

scalded them in lye.) We see a woman tying up the vines, and Pierre tells me that this and hay-making are the only field labors that women perform in this part of France; whereas in the south, where his brother Charles was when a soldier, they go out to work in all field labors and come in together, men and women. Afterwards Charles says that it is in hoeing and cultivating the vine that the women assist in that department of the Haute Garonne, near the Pyrenees; and he tells us that the men help the women to make the kitchen, or to do the housework.

Tuesday, July 9th.-This morning Mrs. Lesmontagnes is melting her butter. Lately, when about to fry potatoes, she appeared to have lard in her pan, and she took out a stoneware pot half full of a yellow substance which she said was butter, and of which she put a good quantity into her frying-pan. She said that it was melted, and allowed me to smell it. If it had not been melted and the scum removed, it would not remain sweet. As I now see Mrs. L. so slowly preparing her butter to put it away, we speak of rendering lard, and again Pierre and I differ. He renders lard himself for half a day, and thinks that otherwise it will not keep. I explain to him my more rapid manner, but fail to convince him. But if wood were as plentiful with them as with us, perhaps they would do the job more rapidly. We discuss, too, the subject of "making the kitchen" with butter; they tell me that it is more expensive than lard, but that they do not think lard equally good. I tell them of one of my relatives who would not allow pork in any form to come into his house. "He was a Jew," says Pierre.

I laugh and shake my head, saying that my relative did not consider pork wholesome. After

wards I tell him that at Paris I began to see how these things are regarded here, but that many of our people would consider it an insult to be taken for a Jew. He tells me that it is considered that Jews resemble Catholics more than Protestants do. "Then you consider them above Protestants ?" I ask. "Yes." "Worse and worse!" I say, laughing, and go away.

CHAPTER XIX.

July 9th.-Pierre and I go to visit the public schools in the village, if public I may call them. The boys' school is supported by the commune, who pay twenty-five hundred francs a year to four Little Brothers of Mary, or Marist monks. It is open ten months in the year, and although the Little Brothers receive lodging in the school building, in addition to their pay of nearly five hundred dollars, yet the four will hardly make beasts of themselves by high living. Theirs is a new stone house, but this building-stone looks much the same in the new and the old. Pierre and I enter the stone-paved yard, which has a well in the centre, with a stone curb and hood like ours, but, in addition, a grating in front to keep the children from falling in. Through the basement-window I catch a view of some working individual whom Pierre addresses. It is the Little Brother who makes the kitchen. We go up-stairs, and Pierre calls the principal out and takes off his hat, and says respectfully that here is some one who would like to visit the school, an American lady. "And why or how?" There seems to be a doubt of my obtaining entrance. I mention