at Mère Talbot's, and people glanced by the window, peeped in at the door, and came to speak upon one pretence or other, as if it was not an everyday sight. By and by a girl and man—whose names from their appearance might have been Jenny and Sawnie—arrived for their dinner—consisting of brown bread, an apple, and cider, which they discussed on their knees—not sitting down at the table—and when finished, returned to their field-labour without speaking. The little boy, meanwhile, had disappeared with his toy-box, which greatly delighted him, and elevated him for the nonce above his fellows; for he was the undisputed possessor of a curiosity imported from England itself, over the sea, by the very lady who was to be seen at his grandmother's house eating pancakes.

The fire was lighted; it crackled and blazed in two minutes; a stand was placed over it, upon which they put what they called a tuile; eggs, flour, and milk were mixed, and a bit of butter, the size of a bean in the first instance, of a pea afterwards—c'est de rigueur, to hinder every fresh crêpe thrown in from burning. Most capital pancakes they were; thin, crisp, hot, and sweet; and the kind people pressed them upon me so hospitably, that I ate till I felt I really could eat no longer, and was glad to finish with a draught of sour cider. I bought seven geese, to be brought to me one at a time, as fat as caterpillars, for two francs ten sous each. Mère Talbot was content with her bargain, and so was I with mine. When I rose to take leave, I was reminded again of Scotland, for a large parcel of cakes was put into the off-pannier; and as I should have mortally offended the kind creatures by refusing their gift, I carried them home, toasted them on a fork, and found it made them eat quite as crisp and good as at first. This sketch may appear perhaps very odd to be taken from nature so late as the year 1840, but I can assure my readers it is 'no less strange than true.'

All the summer we wandered about the woods and fields of Flotte, making little excursions in the neighbourhood, and sedulously avoiding the town; but after we had made ourselves acquainted with every beech-shaded hollow, every little fig-forest, every apple-orchard, climbed every broomy knowe, gathered heather from the highest rock and mushrooms from the oldest pasture, we turned our steps sometimes towards C—— in search of variety. There, every Thursday, the military band of the 44th Regiment played in the alley of the mountain-ash, and there all the dames and demoiselles assembled, dressed in a wonderfully neat way. We asked how these women, who were mostly in humble circumstances, were enabled to dress so finely. Batilde explained the phenomenon.

'Ah! they have infinite merit,' responded the Frenchwoman; 'two of them, whom I chance to know, in order to be enabled to do so, live on eggs and bread, in one room, where they sit, eat, and sleep, nay, sometimes cook; and they have their just reward, for they are universally admired and respected.'

This is a pretty fair specimen of the effort made by Frenchwomen of the humbler orders to maintain a tasteful exterior. To make themselves neat is a principle; and they seem to have an inherent perception of what constitutes taste. They may sometimes go too far in this direction, and think more of dress and ornaments than they should do. One can at least say, that they are on the safe side. Better to love outward show, than, as is often visible in Scotland, have no regard for appearances. Better cleanliness on any terms than utter slovenliness. I really must say, we saw some most creditable efforts in France to maintain self-respect, among the female population.

About this time, an old gentleman, who was distantly related to us, died—without having, however, an idea of the extent of our poverty—leaving my husband L.50 for a ring. Here was riches—unexpected riches! and I verily believe few who succeed to L.50,000 ever felt more or as much rapture as we did; and we spent an evening very happily settling how we should employ the money. In the first place, we hired a good servant for L.8! and dismissed Batilde; we then, by paying half, induced the landlord to lath, plaster, paper, and paint the large lumber-room, and open a door of communication into the passage, by which we avoided entering through the kitchen. Our late sitting-room we dined in, and made the dining-room a dressing-room; got several small comforts besides; and though last not least, hired an old piano; and every evening enjoyed music in a degree none but real lovers of that delightful art, long deprived of it, can have the slightest conception of—and all this happiness and comfort for L.50! Think of that, ye ladies who give as much for a gown!

Our new servant, Olive, was as clean, orderly, and active as our late one had been the reverse. The difference it made in our comfort was as great as if we had had our former establishment restored, and really our bonne was a host within herself. The house was always clean, but we never saw her cleaning: she went to market, baked all our bread, yet never seemed oppressed with work: her cookery was capital; she made excellent dishes out of what Batilde would have wasted: went to mass every morning, and was back in time to prepare everything for our breakfast. After staying a month, she begged permission to leave the cockloft and bring her 'effects' to the gate-house, which we willingly permitted; and her wardrobe was worth a journey to see, when we remembered that her wages had never been quite L.8 until she came to us, and her age only thirty. I shall give the list I copied, hoping some of our English Betties may read and profit by her example: twenty-four good strong linen shifts, made and marked neatly by herself; two dozen worsted and thread stockings, knit by herself; twelve pocket-handkerchiefs; six stout petticoats; four flannel do.; six pair of shoes; eight caps; eight neck-frills; umbrella; prayer-book; gold earrings and cross—which two last, with a beautiful lace-cap, she inherited, but everything else was of her own earning. She bought a wardrobe and bedstead, and was by degrees getting furniture; and as I exacted no sewing, every leisure moment she was spinning her future sheets. With all this she was also very kind to a married sister, who had a large family; but she wore no flowers, flounces, nor finery; her six gowns were of a stuff the Scotch call linsey-woolsey; and so in sixteen years' services she had amassed what I have just described. Why can't our girls do as much where wages are higher and clothes cheaper?

We spent three years in this happy solitude, and felt almost sorry when an unexpected legacy, and the settlement of our affairs together, enabled us to return to all the comforts and many of the luxuries of life. It gives me much pleasure to record the many kindnesses we received from all ranks of people. Upon one occasion we were forced to ask the butcher to wait three months longer for his bill: he not only consented, but his wife insisted upon lending us money, and was quite cross when we gratefully declined her kindness. Near the time of our departure, as we were paying a large account, the shopkeeper said: 'At this time you must have many calls upon you; transmit me the amount from England, for I can afford to wait.' Another of our tradesmen, a shoemaker, was a most singular character—a great physiognomist, and would not serve those he did not like. A dashing English family wished to employ him, but he fought shy, and made himself so disagreeable that they went to another: he told me this before his wife, who seemed annoyed at his conduct. He explained that he did not like their appearance, and was sure they would not pay for what they had. He was right; they left the place in debt to his confrère and everybody else. I rejoice in this opportunity of assuring my countrymen that there is as much true kindness to be met with in France as in England, and the