ly sound when the sea is at all
rough, and when it is foggy (the channel fogs come up very quickly) we
hear fog horns all around us and quite distinctly the big sirene of Cap
Gris Nez, which sends out its long wailing note over the sea. It is very
powerful and is heard at a long distance.

The shops on the quay are an unfailing source of interest to me. I make
a tour there every morning before I go down to the beach. They have such
a wonderful variety of things. Shells of all sizes--enormous pink ones
like those I always remember standing on the mantelpiece in the nursery
at home--brought back by a sailor brother who used to tell us to put
them to our ears and we would hear the noise of the sea--and beautiful
delicate little mother-of-pearl shells that are almost jewels--wonderful
frames, boxes, and pincushions, made of shells; big spoons, too, with
a figure or a ship painted on them--knives, penholders, paper-cutters
and brooches, made out of the bones of big fish--tassels of
bright-coloured sea-weed, corals, vanilla beans--curiously worked
leather belts--some roughly carved ivory crosses, umbrella handles,
canes of every description, pipes, long gold earrings, parrots, little
birds with bright-coloured feathers, monkeys--an extraordinary
collection.

I am sure one would find many curious specimens if one could penetrate
into the back of the old shops and pull the things about--evidently
sailors from all parts of the world have passed at Boulogne. Still I
don't hear many foreign languages spoken--almost always French and
English; occasionally a dark face, with bright black eyes, strikes one.
We saw two Italians the other day, talking and gesticulating hard,
shivering, too, with woollen comforters tied over their caps. There was
a cold fog and we were all wrapped up. It must be awful weather for
Southerners who only live when the sun shines and go to bed when it is
cold and gray. There are all sorts of itinerants, petits marchands, on
the other side of the quay, looking on the water--old women with fruit
and cakes--children with crabs and shrimps--dolls in Boulonaise
costume--fishwives and matelottes, stalls with every description of
food, tea, coffee, chocolate, sandwiches, and fried potatoes. The
children bought some potatoes the other day wrapped up in brown
paper--quite a big portion for two sous--and said they were very good.

The quais are very broad, happily, for everything is put there. One
morning there were