The Catholic World Volume Ii Part 60

Tender and true.

All my own at last!

My blessing for all life through-- In death as life My one loved wife-- Mine--mine at last, All troubles past-- And the future all happiness, deep and vast.

My darling tender and true!

-------- {386}

Translated from Etudes Religieuses, Historiques, et Litteraires, par des Peres de la Compagnie de Jesus.

A RIDE THROUGH CALCUTTA AND ITS VICINITY.

LETTER FROM A FATHER OF THE PROVINCE OF BELGIUM, MISSIONARY AT CALCUTTA.

You ask me for a little information concerning this country and our ordinary life in this climate. I am entirely at your disposal for this whole afternoon, if you will come and join me at the college of St.

Francis Xavier, No. 10 Park street, Calcutta.

It is warm there. The thermometer I have just consulted stands 37 centigrades in the shade. Look where you may from my windows, you see nothing but white houses which, turned toward the four winds of heaven, have no other shade but that of their cornice; and a little further on, in an old cemetery, some fifty obelisks lit up on their four faces, so vertical is our sun! Hence, though lightly clad--a white calico soutane, without b.u.t.tons, a white girdle, white pantaloons, and white shoe--we still feel enough of the tropical heat of the dog-star. Happily, we have the breeze, which, although it does not lower the thermometer any, refreshes us considerably. But it does not always blow; and when it stops, the floor is watered with drops of perspiration as big as two-franc pieces. Those who would then make up for the breeze have themselves _ponka-ed._ _Ponka-ed?_ what is that?

To understand it, you will enter Father Stochman's abode. He is seated all in white, at his desk, in the middle of a large room; over his bald head, at a little less than a metre, is hung a large white triangle, three metres long horizontally, and one metre in height; a cord is fastened to it there, pa.s.ses into the hollow of a pulley fixed to the wall, and terminates at a crouching Indian, clad in his dusky skin and a strip of stuff around his loins. This human machine has no other occupation than to pull the cord which balances continually over Father Stochman's head the other rectangular machine that I have described to you, which is called a _ponka_. Now, do not suppose that Father Stochman is a Sybarite. There are _ponkas_ here everywhere: in the parlor, in the refectory, and many persons have themselves ponkaed in their bed the whole night long. These instruments are not in use in Catholic churches, but every parishioner, male and female, continually uses the fan, which by extension is likewise called a _ponka_. Other countries, other customs; a _ponka_ is here more necessary than a coat; whereas, on the other hand, there is not a single chimney in the whole house. No chimney, you will say; do you, then, eat your rice quite raw? To that question I have two answers; first, the kitchen, with us as with our neighbors, is not in the house, but in the _compound_--that is to say, in the vast inclosure that surrounds the dwelling. Then I will furthermore observe, that even in the kitchen there is no chimney. These black Indians, who are our cooks, are accustomed to make fire without troubling themselves about the smoke, which escapes wherever it can, through the windows, through the crevices, anywhere and everywhere. If you were, like me, philosopher enough to eat whatever comes before you, I would introduce you into that kitchen; but I think you would not care to enter that dingy {387} hole, lest you should for ever lose your appet.i.te. Let us leave the Indians in their den, and go sit down under the _ponka_ in the refectory. To-day they will serve us with mutton and fowl; to-morrow with fowl and mutton; now and then with fowl only. As regards vegetables, yon shall see them successively of all kinds; but, if you take my advice, you will not touch them; they have no other taste than that of stagnant water. Beside the morning repast and the dinner, which is at half-past three o'clock, we have two other meals a day.

One at noon, under the name of _tiffin_, is composed, in the maximum, of a gla.s.s of beer, a crust of bread, and some fruit; for some amongst us, it is reduced to but one of those three things; for many others, and myself in particular, to nothing at all. The other repast, at eight in the evening, consists of a cup of coffee, with or without bread.

And now let us quit this abode of misery, no more to return. Come and see my chamber. It has no _ponka_, but four windows, open day and night; two to the south, where the sun does not enter, and two to the east, where the Persians forbid him access in the morning. My bed is a species of large sofa, upon which there is a nondescript article, that is neither a pattia.s.s nor a mattra.s.s. It is a flat sack, eight or nine inches thick, and stuffed with hair; over it two linen sheets (a luxury here, where most people use but one) and a pillow as hard as the mattra.s.s. But best of all are the four posts supporting a horizontal rectangle from which is hung the mosquito net. The mosquito net is used here all the year round. It is a piece of net fastened below the mattra.s.s. Behind, that frail rampart, if happily there be no rent in it anywhere, you enjoy the pleasure of hearing the mosquitoes buzzing about powerless and exasperated. In December and January, there are clouds of them; but, hearing them, you appreciate that verse of Tibullus: _Quam juvat immites ventos audire cubantem!_ What is a mosquito? It is the cousin-german of your gnats in Europe, generally a little smaller, but quite the same in form; it _sings_ and stings like them; only its sting is a little more painful, and is followed by a larger and more lasting tumor. Nothing can secure you against its attacks; it can dart its sting even through a double covering of linen.

These insects are not my only room-mates. There are now, in addition thereto, some millions of red and black ants, hundreds of which I every day crush, but all in vain; there are lizards, which are not dumb as in Europe, but give utterance, now and then, to a short song.

These lizards apply themselves to hunt the insects, so that I am very careful not to hunt themselves. In my chamber, moreover, there are horrible beetles--large insects of a dark brown color, four or five inches long, which have the privilege of inspiring universal disgust.

To love them, one should be as poetical as M. Victor Hugo, who had an affection for "the toad, poor meek-eyed monger." There are little _white fishes_, insects that do not live in water, but are particularly abundant during rainy weather. These _fishes_, little as they are, contrive to make large holes in cloth and in stuffs. During the night I sometimes hear rats and mice prowling around; the mosquito net protects me from their a.s.saults. As for bats, owls, and other such nocturnal visitors, I do not think they ever come in through our open windows.

Birds of prey are very numerous here, and wherever I am in my chamber, I know not how many are watching me from the top of the adjacent buildings. Crows are another species of bird as interesting as they are dreary. They inhabit the riversides where the Indians throw their dead; two, three, or more of them are often seen in the water, looking as though they were sailing on some invisible bark; that bark is a dead body, which they slice amongst them as they {388} go. Sometimes the jackals, along the river, dispute this horrible prey with them, and you might see these animals, at some distance from the city, trotting along with human limbs across their mouth. In the city, the crows live on offal of all kinds; they are often found a.s.sembled round kitchen doors; during our meals there are always twenty or thirty of them before our refectory. There they seem to beg for crusts of bread, bones, etc, and willingly receive whatever is thrown to them. The kites, less numerous and less bold, but much more voracious, mount guard with them, and often fly away with what the poor crows had picked up from the ground. In revenge, it is really a pleasure to see a kite gnaw a bone which he has thus purloined. If he does not take care to perform that operation high up in the air, he is invariably flanked by two crows, one of which keeps constantly pulling him behind to make him angry, whilst the other avails himself of this artifice to peck at the bone in the very claws of the kite. After a while, the crows change parts, and each in his turn becomes the a.s.sailant. I perceive at this moment in our court another bird, less common than the two preceding species, but still not at all rare. The name it usually bears here is that of _adjutant_; in other places the much more picturesque name of _philosopher_ is given to it. In order to form an idea of it, give an ordinary heron the size of a small ostrich; the bill is ten inches wide and from fifty to sixty long; the claws and the legs, white and thin, are more than three feet high; the neck almost always bent, and forming a crop, has a development of from sixty to seventy inches. Between these two extremities place a big white body with large wings of a dark-gray color, and you shall have pretty nearly the _adjutant_ or _philosopher_.

_Apropos_ to the description of my domicile, I have been led to give you a course of natural history; let us go on to something else. There is no other curiosity in my chamber, if it be not the two part.i.tions which, with the walls of the house, form the inclosure. These part.i.tions are but two yards in height, whilst the ceiling is more than five; they are generally arranged in this way, so as to give a free pa.s.sage to the breeze.

In descending, let us take a look at the bathing rooms, about a dozen in number, in which there is not a single bath, but large vases of baked clay, always full of water, and small copper vases, that contain about a quart. You stand on the pavement, and, dipping the small vase into the larger one, pour the contents of it fifty times or so on your head. This is called taking a bath. It is said to be very wholesome; every one in this country takes their daily bath--except me, who have no time; so every one has been more or less sick, except me, for the same reason.

Before going out, a word on the pupils of our college. They are two hundred and twenty, the great majority of whom are Catholics. Most of the names have an English aspect; but you will also hear Portuguese, French, and Armenian names, borne respectively by white, black, bronze, and brown skins. English is the common language; the French pupils themselves speak it more fluently than their mother tongue, and most of them know only as much of Bengalese and Hindostanese as is necessary to make themselves understood by their Indian domestics. The costumes are varied enough; but as for the Indians, one may say that white, and especially white calico, const.i.tutes their wardrobe, notwithstanding that some dark or pale colors are seen here and there.

Let us set out. Here are our young people coming in for recreation, and I would spare your ears one of my daily torments. It were impossible to find on the European continent people more dest.i.tute of all musical judgment than our pupils. It is not taste they want, but _good_ taste. Several of them have an instrument like the {389} accordeon which is called the _concertina_. They have the courage to spend all their recreations, for three months and more, playing always the same air. I have thus heard "G.o.d save the Queen" thousands of times. Once would have sufficed to disgust you with it for ever; you may just imagine what liking I have for it. But it is time to go for our walk.

The English took a very simple way of making Calcutta. They marked out a broad circular road, to fix its boundary. Three Hindoo villages, Fort William, and some European factories, were inclosed within it; time has done the rest. Within the inclosure, the construction of the houses is subject to police regulations; straw roofs are prohibited, tiles required, etc; all that annoys the Hindoo, who likes better to take up his quarters on the other side of the circular road; and in this way the suburbs are formed. The European city, on its side, has grown larger every day. Five years ago, our college was at the very extremity of the city; now, it is nearly in the centre; the new houses have occupied all the free s.p.a.ce, and, in some places even go beyond the circular road. A year and a half since, a group of Hindoo huts, situate about one hundred paces from the college, disappeared to make place for a public tank, which furnishes us with water. The transformation is slow, but sure. So much for English tact; they have made Calcutta a palatial city, and such its name implies--_the city of palaces_. It is, moreover, an immense city; the streets are of fabulous length, thanks to the mode of construction employed here. I believe, indeed, that if Paris were built on the same system, it would extend itself as far as the _natural frontiers_.

In those long streets circulates a numerous and very mixed population, as in all great maritime places. If you please, we will busy ourselves to-day with the Indians only.

We distinguish them here into two great cla.s.ses; the Mohammedans and the Hindoos. They are easily recognized in the streets. The Mohammedans wear a beard; they have usually on their head a cap a little larger than that of the priests in Belgium, but which, having only one seam forming an edge, is a little less spherical. The rich have caps embroidered with gold and silver, often very costly; the poor make theirs of two pieces of grayish-white calico. As for the women, I know not by what sign to recognize them, unless, perhaps, by the seams of a portion of their garments. For the rest, no Indian woman, poor or rich, appears in the streets. The Hindoos, all idolaters, wear no beard on their chin, but only moustaches and sometimes whiskers. In case of mourning for the death of a parent, they shave all, and even the hair from the fore part of the skull. The rest of the hair is generally drawn back and gathered in a knot. The men go almost always bareheaded; sometimes they make themselves a turban of a large piece of calico gracefully enough wound around. The rich dress in muslin; unbelievers wear leather shoes, [Footnote 55]

the others wooden sandals. The poor have a cord around their loins, which the rich replace by a silver chain, that they never leave off.

One or more keys are usually attached to it. Between this cord and the skin they thrust the edge of a piece of calico as long and as wide as a bed-sheet, and which goes first round and half round the legs; the men pa.s.s between their legs what remains of the sheet and fasten the end of it to the cord or to the silver chain; the women throw this same remainder of the stuff over one shoulder and the head, so as to cover the chest. All go barefoot; many men have necklaces, the women wear on their ankles two large rings of copper or silver; they have, beside, a profusion of necklaces, bracelets, rings in the ears and even in the {390} nostrils. This costume forms their essential and ordinary apparel.

[Footnote 55: Leather is an abomination to a devout Hindoo.]

From the month of November till the month of March, the Indians have a season which they call winter. At 20 they are cold, at 15 they shiver, at 12 or 13 they are frozen. You should see, in the morning, the masons, carpenters, and other workmen, residing usually in the country, coming into town all m.u.f.fled up in one or two extra bed-sheets, their mouth and nose completely hidden, and looking so much like being cold, that after some years the Europeans themselves (sad effect of bad example!) end by persuading themselves that it is cold here in winter, and even catch a little cold here and there. The domestics also try then to obtain some cast-off garments, in which they wrap themselves up without any regard for aesthetics. The porter of the college, who may be recognized by his red skull-cap and small white band worn as a shoulder-belt, characteristic of the caste of Brahmins, asked Father Stochman last year for one of his old soutanes.

A little _bera_ (servant) strutted about the other day in his master's old _paletot_. The master is thirty-five, the _bera_ seven. The _meteurs_ (room sweepers, etc) cover themselves with everything: packing-linen, pallia.s.ses, etc., etc. The _bossartchi_ (cooks) are the best off in winter; they keep themselves warm with their masters'

wood.

Now that you have my Indians more or less dressed, let us see how they act. The best way to do that will be to go in a palanquin from our college to the railroad station. If we arrive in time for the train, we shall make a little excursion as far as Serampore or even to Chandernagor. Here is the palanquin that is waiting for us at the door: it is a wooden box, about four feet long; two poles a little bent, and fastened one before, the other behind, seem to be the continuation of the axle of the parallelepiped (excuse the word: I teach geometry). Two individuals, clothed just so far as it is absolutely necessary, place themselves under the front pole, so as to lay it one over his right shoulder, the other over his left shoulder; they press one against the other, because union makes strength. Two other Indians similar to these do as much for the back pole; the palanquin is raised. I slide the doors sideways, seat myself on the edge, and with all the elegance given by gymnastic habit I dart in backwards. The bottom is a sort of mattra.s.s, on which one lies down at full length: the shoulders are then supported by a back-cushion, the feet are in front; you cry _Djas!_ and the four _palki-bera_ start off. Usually, to mark the way, the most intelligent of the bearers throws out phrases of four or six syllables, in a very monotonous tone quite unknown in Europe; the other answers, repeating the phrase in the same tone. In town, they go at the rate of at least six miles an hour; in longer journeys they go more slowly.

I have already made a journey of five leagues twice in this kind of box. The first was poetical enough. It was more than fifty leagues from Calcutta. We were three Europeans; a very light Frenchman (not in body, but in mind), an Irishman, and myself. The Frenchman had a considerable sum about him, and the country being in his opinion somewhat dangerous, he had brought to the starting station arms of every kind. I had with me in my palanquin a double-barrelled carabine, a case of ammunition, and a large hunting-knife. To prevent any one from robbing me of all this, I partly lay down on the carabine, made a pillow of the case, and slept with the sheath of my knife in one hand and the handle in the other. The Irishman, travelling on horseback, with pistols, served us as a scout; but his pistols did not prevent him from being struck on the face and arms by the greatest brigand in India: I mean the sun. He had his skin red for several days. For us, who were shaded in our palanquins, we had, of {391} course, no adventure; were it not that I dreamed sometimes of brigands and the Black Forest, crossing a vast desert plain, all white with light. So, when we came back the same way a fortnight after, we took with us no other fire-arms than a box of matches and cigars. But this is a digression; let us continue our journey.

_Daina pero!_ (turn to the right). It is not the ordinary way; but instead of pa.s.sing by the broad European thoroughfare, Park street, we shall turn aside into the dark and winding pa.s.sages of an Indian bazaar. A bazaar is a mult.i.tude of lanes, exclusively composed of miserable huts, and blocked up with all sorts of merchandise. You rarely meet any one there but men; the shop-girl and the "young lady"

of the store are equally unknown here; but in it is found every form of misery.

See there below that beggar of eighteen or twenty years, scarce half covered, and without even a rudiment, a shadow, of an arm. He is long and thin, but appears to be in good health. A French physician told me that, very probably, his parents cut off his arms when he was a child to secure him a livelihood. Whilst we are looking at him, a gigantic hand is thrust trough the opposite door of the palanquin. The fingers are as big as the arms of a two-year old child; they are long in proportion. That hand is soliciting alms. We raise ourselves up a little to see this needy giant, and our eyes fall on a wretched, emaciated Indian; the rest of his body can weigh but little more than his two hands, for the left is like unto the right. This case of hypertrophy is, I think, isolated here; but another very common one, which is met in every street, is _Elephantiasis_, hypertrophy of the legs. The unhappy creatures attacked by this malady have, from the knee to the end of the foot, one, or sometimes two, elephant's legs, cylindrical, enormous, and seeming to draw to them the nourishment of all the rest of the body.

But here we are at the _Medan_, This is the name given to that immense esplanade on which stands Fort William, and which bounds the governor's palace, the city hall, the Protestant cathedral, the prison, the lunatic asylum, etc. Let us cross it in our palanquin, coasting along the river, and we shall soon reach the vicinity of the station. There we find ourselves besieged by the _couli_ (a sort of porter) of every age. They claim the honor of carrying our travelling-bag fifty paces for a _pais_--about four centimes. Since we are there, before going any further, let us say a word of the _couli_.

Some are in the service of the rich and of Europeans, others are for hire in the streets. The first are always men; amongst the second, there are many children: there are few of them very strong. Indeed, as a general rule, one European has the strength of several Bengalese.

Both carry everything on their head, in a great hemispherical basket; there it is that they place the traveller's luggage or the provisions bought in the bazaar. A _couli_ brought me one day two little birds which an Irishman had shot for me, and sent them to me from his residence, three leagues from Calcutta. The birds were in the large basket. On receiving them I wrote a few lines of thanks; the _couli_ put the note in his basket. Here is another anecdote, for the truth of which I can certify. M. Moyne, a Frenchman settled in Chandernagor, had ordered his _couli_ to convey some very heavy materials, of I know not what kind. He saw the poor devil bent under the burden, and as the journey was to be of several days' duration, he went to his carpenter and had him construct a wheelbarrow. That done, he comes back quite pleased with his good work, and, wheeling the barrow himself to the _couli_, gives it to him, shows him how to use it, and goes his ways satisfied that he has caused that man to make one step toward civilization. The pleasure he experiences at this {392} reflection induces him to turn round to enjoy his work. He turns, therefore, and sees the _couli_ walking along, the barrow and the burden all on his head!

We have met by the way a great number of Mohammedans, carrying on their back an enormous leather flask, and dripping wet. These are the _bisthi_, water-carriers. Every house has its own; for people here waste a great deal of water, and there are neither wells nor cisterns.

The _bisthi_ go and fill their leather flasks at the river or at the public reservoirs, which are to be found in almost all the large streets, and come and empty it into pitchers of the dimensions of a hogshead. It is filtered for drinking; for other uses it is merely left to settle.

Those other individuals, a little cleaner, who carry on their head large bundles of linen, are _dobi_, or washers. They wash the linen by soaking it in water, and then striking it with their whole strength against a plank or a stone. Happily, notwithstanding the American war, calico is not very dear here. You understand that in such a mode of washing it is roughly handled, and wears out before it is old. But why not teach the _dobi_ to wash in another way? Remember M. Moyne's wheelbarrow, when you ask that question!

Mercy on us! whilst we are chatting so about the _couli_, the _bisthi_, and the _dobi_, we are missing the train. Since it is gone, we shall do as others do who are left behind: we shall take a _Hinghi_, an Indian bark, long, curved, and without a keel. We shall find four or five Mohammedan _mendjie_ (boatmen), one of whom steers with a long oar; the others row with bamboos as thick as one's arm, and terminated by small flat boards. Just as we enter, the crew are finishing their common prayer, in which, with many protestations and gesticulations, they thank G.o.d and the Prophet for having helped them to speed well heretofore, and asking them to help them the same for the future.

Allah! Allah! _mendjie_ row strong; if we arrive in time, you shall have two _annas_ (30 centimes). What is this floating three paces from here? The body of a man lying on his back. And yonder? A woman's corpse. And further off? The carca.s.s of a horse. The crows, the kites, the vultures, are much interested in it. But we are landing. The pa.s.sengers on board the steamboat are not all landed yet. You see there perhaps forty, fifty European dresses, and hundreds of Indian.

In the second-cla.s.s car, which we enter, we shall see Indians in muslin, who are named _babou_ (or townspeople) through politeness.

They are clerks in the Calcutta offices; they reside several leagues from here, come every day to town, and return home by the railroad.

The compact ma.s.s of the poor are penned up in wretched third-cla.s.s cars. The bell rings, the whistle blows, we are off.

Thirteen miles north of Calcutta in the third station, the first important one; we stop two minutes. Let us go down; we are at Serampore, an old Danish colony sold to England. We shall content ourselves there with a visit to the Hindoo G.o.ds, and we shall have enough to do if we see them all. There are, I think, more than fifty temples. Here is one that is no larger than one of the little wayside chapels we often see at home. At the further end, on a scaffold, is a G.o.d quite black, almost of human form, holding his two hands as though he were playing the flute. No flute is there, however. The G.o.d has the cut of a French conscript; at his feet there is a little woman a foot high, and a little G.o.d half a foot, an exact copy of the large one.

The priest has observed us, and here he comes to speak to us. He is clad like the poorest of the Hindoos. What is your G.o.d's name? Answer unintelligible. Who are those two little personages? His wife and son.

What does that G.o.d do? He eats. Indeed? Oh yes, _sahib_, he eats much.

If you will give him some rice or flour he will be very thankful {393} to you, and it will be of great spiritual advantage to you. Oh! oh!

but if we give him rice, will he eat it before us? Oh! of course not.

He does not eat in company. I place the rice before him; I close the door carefully, and go away; when I come back some time after to open the door, he has it all eaten up. Thereupon we begin to laugh; the priest smiles, too, and we move away.

You meet under almost every large tree four or five of these G.o.ds, or even a greater number. Over them the Indians hang cocoa-nuts, full of a water which escapes drop by drop, from a little hole bored in the bottom. It is thus that they keep their G.o.ds cool. You often see a regular series of little temples, built one after the other, on the same base. Usually, there are six on one side, six on the other. In the centre of each of them there is a black stone, fairly representing an anvil covered with a hat. That stone is a G.o.d. A great number of them are sold in Calcutta at from ten to twelve rupees a piece (twenty-five or thirty francs).

But here is a temple of _Kali_, the terrible G.o.ddess of destruction, in honor of whom the sect of _Togs_ has devoted itself to murder for ages long. They say there are still Togs who kill for killing's sake, especially in Bengal. The G.o.ddess is standing; she is almost black; has four arms armed with daggers and death's-heads; around her neck is a double necklace, which hangs to the ground, composed of hundreds of little figures also representing death's-heads. The best of it is that her tongue hangs down midway on her chest. To pull the tongue is a sign of astonishment in Bengal. Now Kali, returning one day from the war, with her chaplet of skulls round her neck, met a man, whom she naturally killed first and foremost. That is the dead body that lies under her feet. She asked the name of the individual, and was much surprised to find that she had killed her husband. Then she pulled her tongue, the best thing she could do. Having no other husband to kill, and even deprived recently of human sacrifices by the English government. Kali has enormous quant.i.ties of black kids sacrificed to her. I often see flocks of several hundreds of them coming into town; the votaries of Kali have their heads cut off at a celebrated temple we have here in Calcutta. For you must know, Calcutta signifies _temple of Kali!_ I went one day to see these sacrifices. The temple is a small affair; but all around a great number of other G.o.ds, attracted, doubtless, by the scent of blood, come to establish their dwelling.

Let us go on. That great straw shed which you see yonder covers an enormous car, having a great number of very heavy wheels. Many a man those wheels have crushed. It is the car of Juggernaut, that devil to whose festivals the English government sent European soldiers only a few years since; not to maintain order, but to take part in the procession. _Djaghernatt_ (the Indian name of this idol) remains with _Bolaraham_ and _Soubadhra_, his brother and sister, in a temple opposite the straw shed. A great number of the Indian G.o.ds have a taste for moving about; hence those kiosks that you see everywhere, and which serve them as resting-places. The prettiest is the shade of a banyan-tree, with about a hundred stems, a whole wood in itself.

But we must leave the Hindoo G.o.ds; we have barely time to pay a short visit to Chandernagor. Let us take the railroad again, and go on some minutes' ride further. Another time we shall, if you choose, come by water, ascending the Hoogly to twenty-one miles north of Calcutta.

There, on the right bank of the broad river, is a strip of land two miles in length by one in breadth, where some sixty persons live in European style, with some thousands of Bengalese, who live in Indian fashion; it is the French colony.

The Indian _employes_ cry with all {394} their might "Chan'nagore!

Chan'nagore!" Let us get down, and out of the terminus, and when we have crossed that ditch, ten paces before us, we shall be in France.

As the centre of the European habitations is a quarter of an hour's walk from this point, we throw ourselves here into a four-seated carriage, and thread our way through roads wretchedly out of repair, at the risk of upsetting an hundred times, or of getting sea-sick by the way. I have often pa.s.sed that place in company with Frenchmen; we endeavored to feel an impression, by humming

"Vera les rives de France," etc. [Footnote 56]