ds in weeping skies. Many wore costumes
which, though quaint, were not by any means beautiful. They were heavy
and ungraceful, like the people themselves: broad-brimmed hats and loose
trunk hose that hung about them like sacks, something after the fashion
of Turkish pantaloons; and the men wore their hair in huge manes,
hanging down their backs, ugly and untidy; habits, costumes and people
all indicative of la Bretagne Bretonnante--la Basse Bretagne.

It was a lively scene, in which we longed to take a part; listen to the
strange language, watch the ways and manners of this distinctive race,
who certainly are too aboriginal to win upon you at first sight.

The hotel was wide awake this morning, full of life and movement. All
who had had to do with us last night gave us a special greeting. They
seemed to look upon us almost as _enfants de la maison_; had taken us
in and done for us under special circumstances, and so had special
claims upon us. Moreover, we were English, and the English are much
considered in Morlaix.

We looked upon last night's adventures as the events of a dream, though
at the time they had been very painful realities. The first object in
the hotel to meet our gaze was Andre, his face still tied up like a
mummy, still looking the Image of Misery, as if he and repose had known
nothing of each other since we had parted from him. He was, however,
very anxious for our welfare, and hoped we had slept well on our
impromptu couches.

Next, on descending, we caught sight of Madame, taking the air and
contemplating the world at large at the door of her bureau. The moment
we appeared the air became too strong for her, and she rapidly passed
through her bureau to a sanctum sanctorum beyond, into which, of course,
we could not penetrate. We looked upon this as a tacit confession of a
guilty conscience, and agreed magnanimously to make no further allusion
to her lapsed memory. So when we at length met face to face, she, like
Andre, was full of amiable inquiries for our health and welfare.

We sallied forth, and whatever we thought of Morlaix last night, we
thought no less of it to-day.

It is a strange mixture of ancient and modern, as we were prepared to
find it. On all sides rose the steep hills, within the shelter of which
the town reposes. The situation is exceedingly striking. Stretching
across one end of the town with most imposing effect is the enormous
viaduct, over which the train rolls towards the