each verse beginning with a prodigious cock-a-doodle-d-o-o!
and then rattling along to the gayest of gay airs. The nightingale was
not a brilliant success; but the cock-crowing was so realistic that at
its first outburst I thought that a genuine barn-yard gallant was up in
the organ-loft. I learned later that this was a musical _tour-de-force_
for which the organist was famed. A buzz of delight filled the church
after each cock-crowing volley; and I fancy that I was alone in finding
anything odd in so jaunty a performance within church walls. The
viewpoint in regard to such matters is of race and education. The
Provencaux, who are born laughing, are not necessarily irreverent
because even in sacred places they sometimes are frankly gay.

Assuredly, there was no lack of seemly decorum when the moment came for
the administration of the Sacrament; which rite on Christmas Eve is
reserved to the women, the men communing on Christmas Day. The women who
were to partake--nearly all who were present--wore the Provencal
costume, but of dark colour. Most of them were in black, save for the
white chapelle, or kerchief, and the scrap of white which shows above
the ribbon confining the knotted hair. But before going up to the altar
each placed upon her head a white gauze veil, so long and so ample that
her whole person was enveloped in its soft folds; and the women were so
many, and their action was with such sudden unanimity, that in a moment
a delicate mist seemed to have fallen and spread its silvery whiteness
over all the throng.

Singly and by twos and threes those palely gleaming figures moved toward
the altar, until more than a hundred of them were crowded together
before the sanctuary rail. Nearest to the rail, being privileged to
partake before the rest, stood a row of black-robed Sisters--teachers in
the parish school--whose sombre habits made a vigorous line of black
against the dazzle of the altar, everywhere aflame with candles, and by
contrast gave to all that sweep of lustrous misty whiteness a splendour
still softer and more strange. And within the rail the rich vestments of
the ministering priests, and the rich cloths of the altar, all in a
flood of light, added a warm colour-note of gorgeous tones.

Slowly the rite went on. Twenty at a time the women, kneeling, ranged
themselves at the rail; rising to give room to others when they had
partaken, and so returning to their seats. For a full half hour those
pale lambe