hus made what I believe to be a dedicatory record by dedicating
three monuments, out of a possible four, in considerably less than an
hour, we were cantered away to the Hotel de Ville to be refreshed and
complimented with a "Vin d'honneur." That ceremony came off in the
council chamber--a large, stately room--and was impressive. M. le Maire
was a tall man, with a cherubic face made broader by wing-like little
whiskers. He wore a white cravat, a long frock-coat, appositely black
trousers, and a far-reaching white waistcoat over which wandered
tranquilly his official tri-coloured scarf. The speech which he
addressed to us was of the most flattering. He told us plainly that we
were an extraordinarily distinguished company; that our coming to
Valence was an event to be remembered long and honourably in the history
of the town; that he, personally and officially, was grateful to us; and
that, personally and officially, he would have the pleasure of drinking
to our very good health. And then (most appropriately by the
brass-helmeted firemen) well-warmed champagne was served; and in that
cordial beverage, after M. Edouard Lockroy had made answer for us, we
pledged each other with an excellent good will.

I am sorry to say that we "scamped" our last monument. To be sure, it
was merely a tablet in a house-front setting forth the fact that Emile
Augier had been born there; and already Augier had had one of the best
speeches of the day. But that was no excuse for us. Actually, we
scarcely waited to see the veil of pink paper torn away by a man on a
step-ladder before we broke for the boat--and not a speech of any sort
was made! Yet they bore us no malice, those brave Valencois. All the way
down to the river, under the blaze of the sun, they crowded closely
around us--with a well-meant but misapplied friendliness--and breathed
what little air was stirring thrice over before it had a chance to get
to our lungs. They covered again in a black swarm the bank and the
bridge in our honour. Their band, through that last twenty minutes,
blared steadfastly the "Marseillaise." From his post upon the
landing-stage the cherubic Mayor beamed to us across his nobly
tri-coloured stomach a series of parting smiles. The brass-helmeted
firemen surrounded him--a little unsteadily, I fancied--smiling too. And
as we slipped away from them all, into the rush of the river, they sent
after us volley upon volley of cheers. Our breasts thrilled and
expanded