mained with her ever since, I had heard of as entirely Anglomane in his tastes and habits. They buy English horses and keep English grooms, and I believe they even prefer English cookery; and she drives her own pony-chaise, and talks English better than I do. Oh, was it worth while to cross that horrid Channel, and no doubt be odiously ill, to go away from my own who love me, among a parcel of strangers, to find only another inferior sort of England? Oh, was it worth while? especially for a single week; for longer I was quite determined I would not stay? I did not say this, however, either to mother or to aunt Emily, for I saw that they had quite set their hearts on the project, and so I submitted with the best grace I was able to muster; saw my new carmelite, my best black silk, and a white muslin for evenings, put into my trunk, and finally, accompanied by old Margery, who had been with us ever since I was born, and who, having also once spent a single week in Paris when she was six years old, was considered likely to be of use to me" on my journey, I took leave of my dear ones with a weary heart and watery eyes, and set forth upon my travels. I saw my dear mother with her slender figure, her silver hair, and sweet moonlight face, shading her eyes with her hand, and aunt Emily, who looked like a peony with a grizzled crop. both standing in the porch to 100K after us as long as we were in sight; but the turn in the road by the Angler's Home soon came, and hid us from each other, and then I felt fairly launched indeed and very desolate. 66 "Never mind, dear," said Margery, wiping a sympathetic drop from the tip of her pointed red nose. "I know shpow means hat." in my hand walked with Margery the few steps from the boat to the station. "Would you allow me, muddám- portybag, muddàm ?" said a voice at my side. I turned and recognized an Englishman, with a hot and anxious visage, who had just crossed over with us, and who was making for the same destination as ourselves. Thank you," I answered; "I can carry it quite easily; it's not at all heavy." "Oh, Lord, mum!" ejaculated my friend with effusion," what a blessing it is to hear one's own language again!" I felt inclined to advise him to venture no farther if he already experienced mal du pays to such an extent, but to go back and wait patiently at the pier until the next steamer started for England. We had two blooming young English ladies in our carriage, accompanied by a surly brother in one corner, who was far too satisfied with himself and too discontented with everything else not to have been a freeborn Briton. Just before arriving at the junction where Margery and I were to branch off from the great Paris main line for Marny-les-Monts, " Préparez vos billets, messieurs et mesdames, s'il vous plaît," said the conducteur. "Stoopid ass!" remarked the Englishman, with sullen scorn; "in England they'd have said Tickets!" and there'd have been an end of it." When we arrived at Hautbuisson (the station at which we had to get out), I found that the Countess had expected us by an earlier train, and had sent her carriage to meet us. Not finding us, however, it had gone home again, and we had to wait some time while another vehicle was being procured for us, so that it was already quite dark when we started for Marny-les-Monts - quite too dark to be able to see anything We crossed on the 18th of October. It whatever of the scenery around us. I only was a lovely day, and the steamer was felt that suddenly our road took us through crowded with passengers. It was too fine, the yet thicker black of trees; then again and the sea too smooth, for any one to be we emerged, and rolled and bumped with a ill, so I had the ladies' cabin all to myself, muffled sound over a heavy wooden bridge; which I infinitely preferred to being in the toiled up a sandy hill to the lights that were midst of all those unfamiliar faces. I glimmering on the summit; heard a noise hitched myself up into a very comfortable of loud voices and foreign tongues all voberth, close to an open port-hole, through ciferating together; and then I suddenly which I watched the great green swirls of water glittering in the sun, and the passage did not seem long. When we landed at Boulogne, the sky was so blue, the shops all looked so different; the fishwomen, with their short petticoats and their baskets on their backs, so curious; everything seemed so sparkling and unaccustomed, that I would not get into a carriage, but taking my bag found myself lifted, I hardly knew how, out of the carriage, and into a tall and potent embrace, enveloped in which I was conveyed along, with my feet hardly reaching the ground, into a brilliant drawing-room. Here a tall gentleman bowed to me, who was presented to me as "my brother Charles." He turned with a kind anxiety to my conductress, and said, “Olympe, what will you do about the dinner?" "She will dine in her own room," answered the Countess, with despotic melancholy. "But perhaps she would rather come in with us at once, as we are still at table," he suggested, in a low voice. "She will dine in her own room," repeated the Countess. "Are you quite sure that you would like that best?" he again attempted, turning to me. "She will dine in her own room," imperturbably remarked the Countess, without the slightest shade of difference in her intonation. ing along the passage, and a hurried little in its great nobility. The expression was tive. "Maman sends me to ask," she said, in her sweet broken English, "will you more tea? or some sirop, perhaps? Have you, indeed, all you want?" I was quite too shy to venture any opin-ish aspect, made her exceedingly attracion on the subject myself; moreover, I had an intuitive conviction that it was not expected of me: so, dazed with the sudden light and the new faces, and with the strong arm round me, I was carried, still upon the very tips of my toes, up the staircase, and finally deposited in a cheery little chintz bedroom, where, after a hearty kiss of welcome, I was left, much to my relief, to slip on my dressing-gown, put my feet up, and rest both the spirit and the flesh, which were equally tired out. Presently, while Margery was arranging my things for the night, the cup of tea, which was all that I had asked for, was brought to me. As I lay with closed lids upon the sofa, I heard Margery say, "Here on table tray-put; " as if she thought that broken English, uttered in a very decisive manner, and with a break between each word, answered quite the same purpose as French. "Does mademoiselle wish for anything else?" inqured the little maid. "Toody swee," Margery observed, with perfect assurance. "Do you speak French?" the little maid asked her, with a smile. 66 "Oh, wee," responded the undaunted Margery, adding Shpow!" in what I thought rather a menacing way, as she kept nodding her head triumphantly at the girl, and giving sharp taps to her own bonnet, by way of convincing her then and there that she knew what was what. Fortunately an Irish nurse, who had lived with Madame de Caradec ever since the birth of her daughter, just at this juncture arrived opportunely to the rescue, and Margery, having duly attended to my comfort, was borne off by her new friend to be made comfortable herself. Later in the evening, just as I had finished writing to mother to tell her of my safe arrival, I heard a quick, decided step com "I see you are Jeanne," said I, holding out my hands to her, and drawing her down on the sofa by my side. "Yes, I am Jeanne,” she replied in French. "I had been out with the hounds all day, and was late for dinner, and dressing in a hurry when you came; that was why you did not see me when you arrived. But Maman was there, I hope, and Charles, and René, to receive you?” "I saw one gentleman in the drawingroom your uncle Charles, I believe." Yes," said Jeanne; "that was the Mar 66 quis." "And who is René?" asked I. "René is a cousin of Maman's, who comes here to hunt for three months every winter. De Saldes is his other name René de Saldes. He always does what he pleases, and is never in time for anything. But the Marquis has to mind his p's and q's, or hmhm!" and she screwed up her mouth and shook her head with a funny little sagacious expression. 66 are not And you," said I, laughing, obliged to mind your p's and q's, but come down when you like?" "That depends," she answered. "When René comes out with us, I never get a scolding there is a sort of complicated family machinery about it all, that it is a little difficult to understand at first. I protect the Marquis, and René protects me: not, indeed, that I need much protection; for they all of them spoil me very perfectly in their different ways, and Maman most of all, although she affects to bring me up with the utmost severity. But I must go now, for Maman desired me not to stay and tire you with my gossiping. I hunt to-morrow with our own hounds; but I shall have the plea sure of seeing you at breakfast before we go." Then bidding me good-night, she left me to the enjoyment of the most perfect bed that ever rested weary limbs. The next morning I was awoke by feeling something indescribably soft, cool, and fragrant touching my cheek; and I opened my eyes into a large bunch of dewy, fresh-gathered roses. Madame Olympe was standing by my bedside with a heap of exquisite flowers in her hands, with which she proceeded to deck the jars on the chimneypiece and on the table. She looked very grand and beautiful, en veloped from head to foot in a great white burnous, which fell in thick heavy folds round her stately person, and was altogether a most satisfactory morning vision, with the white hood over her head shading and softening her stern face, as she bent over her many-colored treasures and arranged them silently. When she had filled the vases, she came and sat down on the foot of my bed. "How are you," she said, "after your journey? rested? It was much better for you to dine in your own room - you would have felt shy and uncomfortable the first evening with strangers." "Have you people staying with you now?" I inquired. "Yes: we have René de Saldes, Monsieur Kiowski, and Monsieur Berthier. The first is my cousin, the last two are painter friends of mine. They will amuse you, they make such a contrast to each other. The one is so rapid in everything he does, and the other so slow. When they come together their differences not only appear more pronounced, but actually become so. They act unconsciously upon each other, and Monsieur Kiowski rushes on like a small mill-stream, while Monsieur Berthier takes an hour to say the slightest thing. I am also expecting some time to-day Lady Blankeney and her daughter, and Miss Hamil of the quiet, and properest of the properpure English growth—a bashful, blushing, infantile old maid of nine-and-thirty - the thing don't exist with us. They are both great bores, and I am sorry they should happen to be coming just at this particular time, because I should have liked you to become acquainted with René de Saldes, and he is already gone; knowing they were to be here to-day, he fled early in the morning. I am rather curious to see how they will make it out with Ursula Hamilton; she must start Lady Blankeney occasionally, I should think." "What is the tie between them? Is she any relation of theirs?" I inquired. "There is a sort of distant cousinship," answered Madame Olympe. "Miss Hamilton's father had once a good fortune, which he squandered in every conceivable discreditable way, and then went to live for economy, with his little girl, at Florence. He died some time ago, and Ursula was left all but destitute. She then, to the horror of all her friends, announced her intention of going on the stage, for which, it appears, she has an immense natural talent-when suddenly, by the greatest piece of unlookedfor good luck in the world, a rich old aunt of hers died, and bequeathed her a very large sum of money. So, thank goodness, she gave up (though I do believe it was rather à contre-cour) the notion of singing in public, and Lady Blankeney, who had been in Italy during all her troubles, and carefully ignored both her and them, flew to her the instant she became an heiress, and is now convoying her to England, where she means to have the honor and glory of producing the new lioness in fashionable society. I own I'm rather curious to see them together, for ages ago I used to hear about Ursula Hamilton from my cousin, Monsieur de Saldes, who knew her abroad, and she appeared to be anything but an amenable subject, although at that time she was only fifteen or Sixteen. But I shall leave you to dress now - you needn't hurry, for we don't breakfast till half-past eleven." With that she nodded her head in a friendly way, and strode majestically out of the room. I had been so thoroughly roused by Madame Olympe's visit, that I got up as soon as she had left me. I unfastened those delicious French windows that open from top to bottom, and seem to let all heaven and earth at once into the room, threw back the outer jalousies, and feasted my eyes upon the landscape. Before me lay the park (a bit of land redeemed from the heart of the forest, and cleared for the dwelling of my hostess) dotted all over with clumps of trees: here and there little screens of delicate young poplars, already turned by the season, quivered their golden leaves in the clear splendors of the autumn blue. At the bottom of the hill lay the river, of which my room commanded three different views as it turned and wound about, all glittering and rippling, and covered, as it were, with an ever-vibrating network of light; and beyond, stretching up and on for miles and miles around us, was the great ocean of the forest, drenched in deep dews, steeped in warm sunshine, swaying in the sweet morning freshness, and chanting its solemn hymn of gladness to the Lord of all the beauties of the earth. When I was dressed, I went into the drawing-room, where I found Madame Olympe, still in the same picturesque costume, assiduously dusting the books upon the table with a feather brush. "This is not much like England after all,” thought I. "We have a new servant," she said in a plaintive tone of voice," who never touches a thing in the morning, and so I am obliged to go round myself and see to it." "Why, what does she do?" I inquired; 'lie in bed till this hour?" "The she is a he, whose name is Hyacinthe, and that is what he does!" she answered, pointing with her brush to the chandelier. I looked up; it was a quaint edifice, built entirely of stags' heads and antlers carved in wood, and it was filled from top to bottom with flowers and leaves grouped together in the loveliest way. "Look there and there," she said. I glanced round the room; in every corner there were heaps and heaps of flowers arranged, with every variety of sword-like rush and feathery plume of grass. "Would you like to see the artist himself? There he is!" she continued, opening the door which led out into the hall. Beyond the hall was a large portico, fitted up with sofas and chairs, and here, at a table covered with flowers, sat a short fat man with a turn-up nose, pasty face, and sentimental aspect, dressing a couple of huge vases. These he afterwards brought in and placed triumphantly upon the chimney-piece; they were entirely filled with the most delicate ferns, intermingled with dark ivy-leaves, which fell over and round the jars in garlands of exquisite grace. At breakfast I was introduced to Monsieur Berthier, a gentleman who looked about fifty-five years old. He was fair, rather bald, and had the gentlest voice and manner in the world. He very kindly endeavoured to put me at my ease by speaking to me in English, but his pronunciation was so peculiar that I could hardly understand what he said - which made me much more nervous than I was before. However, they all soon found out that I spoke French without difficulty, and then we got on swimmingly. Monsieur Charles appeared in full huntting costume. He did not wear the green, which is the colour of the Imperial hunt, but a white coat with maroon velvet facings: it was extremely picturesque, and very becoming to pretty little Jeanne, who was charmingly got up in the same colours. They called this morning meal their breakfast, but it was to all intents and purposes a regular dinner. There were two large dishes of hot meat, two or three others of cold, hot dressed vegetables, salad, eggs, and all served upon the bare oak table without any table-cloth. At the end where Madame Ölympe sat, were the urn and breakfast-service; but I observed that everybody drank wine-and-water to begin with, and then gradually arrived at tea as a sort of climax, when a most delicious hot heavy pastrycake was handed round, which they ate with an addition of butter and honey that made me expect to see them die on their chairs by my side. It is but fair to add that this breakfast and their dinner are the only meals partaken of in the day. The servants have their breakfast and dinner immediately after their masters have done, upon what is left; the whole domestic machinery seems to me much simpler than our English arrangements. French servants do not eat or drink half so much as ours do, and make much fewer difficulties. What complicates matters in England a good deal is the separate life led by the children: this does not exist in France, where the children keep for the most part the same hours with their parents, instead of dining apart and early, as ours do. was While we were in the middle of breakfast a figure darted past the window, gesticulating violently this I found Monsieur Kiowski, who had been ont painting and had not heard the breakfast-bell. Presently he rushed in with his sketch-book in his hand he was quite young, and very pleasant-looking. "Mille pardons!" he said, hurrying up to Madame Olympe and kissing her hand. "I hadn't any idea it was so late, but I found the most adorable little bit to paint from the boat-house! When first I got there it was all cool grays and silver tones a perfect Corot with just that little bit of dead tree coming in there you see" (showing her the book) "to give it a red accent; but when the sun came out the whole aspect altered from minute to minute, so that I was obliged to give it up at last. I must try and get up early again tomorrow to finish it if possible. Goodmorning, Jeanne. Good-morning, Marquis. Good-morning, Berthier. Why didn't you come out and have a go at the river too? You have no idea how lovely it looked from the inside of the boat-house; but perfectly adorable!" (and he sent a kiss into the air rapturously from the tip of his fingers). "Yes, some pommes de terre sautees, Hyacinthe, if you please." All this came pelting out in a torrent of French, and in a single breath, and I was perfectly dumfoundered when Madame Olympe presented him to me, and he asked me in equally faultless English if I had had a good night and was rested after my jour ney. plunge at a basin he saw upon a bench near him the ship lurched, the basin rolled off, and he rolled after it and lay wallowing there on the ground where he fell, an utterly demoralized and disgusting object; but so miserable and so regardless of all appearances that I assure you he became almost grand through excess of suffering, and the entire absence of self-consciousness. Meess, with her basin in her corner, and all her British dignity, was little by the side of that Spaniard in the agony of his utter self-abandonment." We all laughed, but Madame Olympe took the English side of the question and stood up for it very vigorously. Monsieur Berthier turned to me. "Confess that you went downstairs and tried to hide yourself from every one; you would not be English if you had not done this. I remember at one time of my life having to pass every day the English pastrycook's at the corner of the Rue de Rivoli. I used to see the English Misses there eating cakes, and when I looked in at the window at them (for they were almost always pretty) they took a crumb at a time, but when I passed on, and they thought they were not seen any more, they put enormous pieces into their mouths, and ate with as much voracity as other people. I used to amuse myself with pretending to go by, and then coming back stealthily to watch them from the corner of the window, and they always did the same." "Well," said Monsieur Kiowski, "and very right too: you seem to think it ridicu lous and unpoetical, but after all, it shows a regard for the feelings of others, and a certain sense of beauty too, which in my humble opinion are qualities rather than defects. "Mademoiselle does not look as if she had crossed the sea yesterday: were you ill?" asked Monsieur Berthier in his slow gentle way. "I think the English character never comes out more strongly than on board a steamboat," he continued. The feeling of decency - le convenable is what English people never lose sight of English women more especially even the tortures of sea-sickness they manage to control, and retire to some secluded corner with their basin, hoping to shroud from observation an attitude which no amount of will can render graceful or dignified. I saw a vulgar Spaniard once, when I was crossing over to England: he had been making game of a poor Meess, who, with English forethought, had provided herself André now came to say that the horses with a basin before the vessel started. He were at the door, and we all went out upon straddled about on deck with a great chain the perron to see them start. Jeanne emand a gaudy cane, and said in a swagger- braced her mother, and the Marquis kissed ing way,Look at all these poor wretches his sister's hand before they mounted. The who are determined to be ill! Their pre- horses were English, and very handsome cautions are exactly what makes them so; beasts, and the Marquis' tall slight figure they are afraid, and give in, and of course in his gay uniform, and with his great huntare sick immediately; but if one walks up and ing-horn slung over his shoulder, looked undown as I do, and smokes as I do, and sings commonly well as they passed in and out as I do, one is never ill.' He began exe- through the trees, with the sun shining full cuting some roulades as the boat steamed upon them. How I envied them their ride, out of harbour; the sea was terrible, and I, who could not even walk! before ten minutes were over, my Spaniard, who had suddenly lapsed into ominous silence and gradually become of a hue the like of which I never beheld before or since on any human countenance, uttered a discordant shriek, and made a violent “I am sorry I cannot drive you to the meet to-day," said Madame Olympe to me, "because these people are coming. However, you must see it one day before you go; it is very different from the English hunting, but it is very pretty in the forest, |