nounced "Shay sha," which I was able to interpret into C'est cela. One day I went out into the fields to see Mr. Salmier and Marie gathering poppies on one of those patches into which the fields are generally divided. An old woman was helping them with the work. By putting her foot at the root she was able to break the tall stem off. She said something, and remarked that I did not understand, "shou que je dizo," or "what I said." As I return from the fields, I see children pulling weeds in the littleused roadway, and they get grass, too, behind the high wall of the notary, to feed their rabbits. I walk on with them, and a woman, the mother of two of them, invites me in. She is ironing on Saturday afternoon. She has twins, who were six months old on the second of the month, or, as she pronounces," Ul deux de she mo shi,"-Le deux de ce mois-ci. On parting I bestow some sous, and say "Good-day." The mother says, "Say good-day to madame, who has given you Sunday."

As I am drawing near the close of my visit in the north, I wish to speak of a few things, to one of which I have before alluded, namely, the great abreuvoir, or wateringplace, near the centre of the village. I know not why this limestone district should suffer from want of water. Perhaps one reason is because it is limestone, and the rain quickly escapes through crevices in the rock below; and can another reason be because it is so nearly treeless? Mr. Salmier and I are of one mind in thinking the wateringplace one of the most ancient things here. It is deep enough to cover a horse, or over two yards at the deepest, and they can take their horses into it to be cleaned. It is rain-water which runs down from the street, and is retained in some way, to me at first very mysterious; but it must

be by having the bottom properly prepared. It is nearly surrounded by a fine low brick wall, built only a few years ago; before that it was unwalled, like the little one in our court-yard. The wall is in form much like a very long horseshoe. One evening I stopped to see a man who had a small cask on a little sled, and straw in his cask. He had gone in at the broad, open end, and, with trousers turned up, was standing in this shallow part, putting water into his cask. His elegant dark-gray horse was drinking and then kicking or splashing with a front foot, as if he wanted to throw water over himself, while his master called him to order. About the same time, near nightfall, a young woman was standing on stepping-stones to fill her bucket from the water. In a dry summer they have been obliged to bring water to this village from elsewhere; as in that of 1874 or 1875, when there was no water in this wateringpool, and very little in the wells: the commune paid about sixty dollars for water, which was brought from another township in the underground pipe by which the beet-juice is conveyed.

I hear mention of a custom which is doubtless ancient. A certain person who lived in this commune had his farmbuildings burnt, and he obtained the pourchat of Paris, which gave him the right to take subscriptions from different persons to replace his losses, and also, I think, to put notices in newspapers. This is supposed to have made him rich. In the French Academy's dictionary of 1778 the noun pourchat does not occur; but the verb pourchasser, which means "to try to obtain," is spoken of as old.

I hear a person mentioned as being divorced from his

wife, but of course it is not a divorce, but only a separation of body and goods, neither party being allowed to marry again. He had the habit of drinking and sometimes staying out until midnight, and she remained up for him. But what entitled her to the separation was that some one testified that he struck her. The children are divided between the two parties, and both sides have spent a good deal in litigation.

She

The evening before I leave this village, Mrs. Salmier tells me that there has been a rumor that I am a Prussian. She had before told me how Prussians came and quartered themselves in their premises during the recent war. tells me that I should have been much better received if the people had known I was an American, because they like Americans. On account of this rumor she did not like to take me to Madame Druvet's. And, oh! she had been so frightened herself when that Prussian pointed his revolvaire at her; and how he threatened to kill her if she let any one in; and before the war the king of Prussia sent people here to find out about the country. "And he did quite right," I say, "when your emperor was trying to get up a fight." "He did right, you think! But it was we who had to suffer! That Prussian did feel for me some, for when I was carrying a mattress for his bed,—a heavy mattress, he said, 'But, madame, let your son do that."" "And so," said I, "the people think I am a spy?" She does not, however, like to use that word. But can this be the reason of our late peculiar reception—or no reception at the brewer's?

To Paris I had taken a very good letter of introduction to three prominent gentlemen. In a more southern village, of which I have written, there lived a gentleman who had

been several years in Philadelphia, and with whom I was personally acquainted; moreover, I was not in a village in that region, but upon a farm. If Mrs. Salmier had told me sooner, I could have produced letters in French, and visiting-cards of persons in Paris, of so much importance as possibly to astonish Mr. Cireau, the mayor. But now I am about to go.

Before parting with Mr. and Mrs. Salmier, she requested me to write to them on my return home. I have since written, and, among other things, I wished to know who thought I was a Prussian, or why they thought so. In reply, I received a very neat letter, written in part by Mr. Salmier, and replying to a question which I had asked about "acts of birth," or certificates. Mrs. Salmier writes that they were pleased in receiving word from me; they could prove to those who doubted it that I was really an American; but no more was said upon the subject.

It will be remembered that Marie Salmier could not pass the school examination, as she stated, because she had not her act of birth. It must have been in order to prepare this certificate that the mayor's assistant asked so many questions of Victor Leblanc when I accompanied him to the office with his young infant. These certificates are considered of much importance in France, and one of the occasions when they are produced is at a marriage; but Mr. Salmier's letter, just alluded to, tells me that they need not be presented when both of the parties to be married live in

one commune.

PART IV.

BELGIUM.

CHAPTER XXIV.

ON Tuesday, August 6th, I leave France for Belgium, in order to take the steamer of the 15th from Antwerp to Philadelphia. I find nice-looking people in the thirdclass car going to the Belgian frontier. The car is not divided. It is disagreeable that some of the men smoke, but an advantage when they have only cigarettes. Plenty of ecclesiastics are to be seen this morning. They have their dresses looped up behind. One young priest sits down on the same bench with me in a passenger-room; as it is warm, he has taken off his hat, and shows his shaven

crown.

At Valenciennes I dine in a restaurant where a woman presides. I have roast beef, the excellent bread of the north, butter, and wine, also a basin and towel, and the charge is fifteen sous. At Valenciennes I see pears three for a sou, and plums eight for a sou, which seem very cheap. A young salesman in a store is sufficiently interested to inquire whether I am going by sea to America.

I saw one coal-mine while in France, but in Belgium I already see several, and great heaps of waste, as at Scranton and Wilkesbarre. After England, Belgium is the greatest country for fuel in Europe.