r to the Virgin. The little childish voices sounded
quite distinctly in the old church--one heard every word. The
congregation was much interested.

There wasn't a sound. I don't know if it was any sort of religious
feeling--some dim recollection of their early days, or merely the love
of a show of any kind that is inherent in all the Latin race, but they
seemed much impressed. While the collection was being made there was
music--very good local talent--two violin soli played by a young fellow,
from one of the small neighbouring chateaux, whom we all knew well, and
the "Panus Angelicus" of Cesar Franck, very well sung by the wife of the
druggist. The cure of La Ferte, a very clever, cultivated man, with a
charming voice and manner, made a very pretty, short address, quite
suited to childish ears and understanding, with a few remarks at the end
to the parents, telling them it was their fault if their children grew
up hostile or indifferent to religion; that it was a perfectly false
idea that to be patriotic and good citizens meant the abandonment of all
religious principles.

We waited until the end of the service (Francis and his friends arrived
in time to hear the cure's address), and watched the procession
disappear down the steep path and gradually break up as each child was
carried off by a host of friends and relations to its home. The cure was
very pleased, said he had had a "belle fete"--people had sent flowers
and ribbons and helped as much as they could to decorate the church. I
asked him if he thought it made a lasting impression on the children. He
thought it did on the girls, but the boys certainly not. Until their
first communion he held them a little, could interest them in books and
games after school hours, but after that great step in their lives they
felt themselves men, and were impatient of any control.

VI

CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS

It had been a cold December, quite recalling Christmas holidays at
home--when we used to think Christmas without snow wasn't a real
Christmas, and half the pleasure of getting the greens to dress the
church was gone, if the children hadn't to walk up to their ankles in
untrodden snow across the fields to get the long, trailing branches of
ivy and bunches of pine. We were _just_ warm enough in the big
chateau. There were two caloriferes, and roaring wood fires (trees) in
the chimneys; but even I must allow that the great stone staircase
and long corridors wer