ed a spirit of tolerance very
remarkable in those days. He dwelt less upon the courtier; spoke more
of the Christian of his last days. He certainly lent to the "charm of
the poet, the beauty of his voice," for it was impossible to hear
anything more perfect than the intonation and diction of the speaker.

[12] Birth certificate.

There was a short address from Monseigneur Deramecourt, Bishop of
Soissons--a stately figure seated on the Episcopal throne in the
chancel. The music was quite beautiful. We had the famous "Chanteurs de
St. Gervais," and part of the chaeurs d'Esther, composed by Moreau, and
sung in splendid style by Mme. Jeanne Maunay, M. Vincent d'Indy
accompanying on the organ. The simple sixteenth century chaunts sung by
the St. Gervais choir sounded splendidly in the fine old cathedral. The
tones seemed fuller and richer than in their Paris church.

We went out a little before the end to see what was going on on the
green. It was still quite a climb from the church, and all the people of
the upper town had turned out to see the sight. It is quite a distinct
population from the lower town. They are all canal hands, and mostly a
very bad lot. The men generally drink--not enough to be really
intoxicated (one rarely sees that in France), but enough to make them
quarrelsome; and the women almost all slatternly and idle. They were
standing at their doors, babies in their arms, and troops of dirty,
ragged, pretty little children playing on the road, and accompanying us
to the green, begging for "un petit sou."

We saw the cortege winding down again, the robes and banners of the
clergy making a great effect, and we heard in the distance the strains
of the military band stationed on the Mail--echoes of the Marseillaise
and the "Pere la Victoire" making a curious contrast to the old-world
music we had just been listening to in the church. Our party scattered
a little. Francis went down to the station with his auto to get the
Duc and Duchesse d'Albufera, who had promised to come for the Comedie
and dinner. They are neighbours, and have a beautiful place not very
far off--Montgobert, in the heart of the Villers-Cotteret forest. He
is a descendant of Suchet, one of Napoleon's Marshals, and they have a
fine picture of the Marshal in uniform, and various souvenirs of the
Emperor. Francis had some difficulty in making his way through the
Grande Rue which was packed with people very unwilling to let any
vehicle pass. Ho