ile to go
there some day, for it is such a primitive place, and they are such
primitive people.' I liked the idea, and begged Mere Talbot might be
told that I would come and look out my goose for myself the following
week.

A fine Thursday morning dawned; and as early as we could get coffee
made and taken, Batilde and I set out on our expedition, each, after
the fashion of the canton, seated on a donkey, our feet in one pannier
and a large stone to balance in the other. I took as an offering to
the hope and heir of the Talbots a toy much like what we in England
call Jack-in-a-box, but in France is termed a _Diable_, as it is
intended to represent his Satanic majesty, and alarm the lifter of the
lid by popping up a black visage. The rough roads shaded by high
hedges, white and pink with hawthorn, and the wild apple-tree blossom,
and redolent of early honeysuckle, reminded me of the secluded parts
of England; while Scotland presented itself to my mind when we left
these lanes and crossed still, rushy brooks, or dashing tiny torrents,
climbed heather braes, pursuing the yellow-hammer and large
mountain-bees as they flew on to the furze and broom-bushes, filling
the air with their cheerful music; or when, again, we descended to
birch-shaded hollows, refreshing ourselves from clear little
spring-wells, that sparkled over white pebbles at the foot of a gray
rock tufted over with blaeberry and foxglove leaves. The poor thing
chatted away like a child, inspired by the pure air, bracing, yet
mild, and lost herself amongst recollections of her country home,
talking of buttercups, hedge-sparrows' eggs, and _demoiselles_ or
dragon-flies.

Several happy hours we spent _en route_; and at last, on turning down
from a hilly road, we saw on a flat brown plain a collection of low
cottages. The nearer we approached, the more Scotch everything
appeared; in some cases I even saw my dear native 'middens afore the
door:' the aspect of the houses and looks of the old women especially,
with their stoups and country caps--so very like mutches--striped
petticoats and short-gowns, brought northern climes before me vividly;
and the children stared and shouted like true Scots callants. The very
accent was so Scotch that I felt as though I was doing something
altogether ridiculous in talking French.

Upon entering Mere Talbot's house, the resemblance became more real.
The flags stuck here and there in the earthen floor, the form of the
chairs an