such thing as property in fruit. Every one may certainly
gather as much as he chuses for his own immediate use. The peasants of
this part of the province are land proprietors; some of them possess
twelve or fourteen acres, others an hill, others a garden or a single
field. They appeared poor but comfortable. They raise a great quantity
of poultry and pigs, and reminded me very forcibly of the Negroes in the
West India Islands--a hard-working, happy, and cheerful race. I should
not, perhaps, omit to mention, that the houses of the peasants were very
different from any that I had yet seen. For the most part, they are
square, white, and with flat roofs. They are almost totally without
glass in the windows; but the climate is generally so dry and
delightful, that glass perhaps would rather be an annoyance. We are apt
to attach ideas of comfort or misery according to circumstances
peculiarly belonging to ourselves. Tell an English peasant that a
Frenchman has neither glass to his windows, nor sheets to his bed, and
he will conclude him to be miserable in the extreme. On the other hand,
tell a French peasant, that an English rustic never tastes a glass of
wine once in seven years, and he will equally pity the Englishman.

Bresle is one of those villages which impress a traveller with a strong
idea of the beauty of the country, and of the state of the comfort of
its inhabitants. It is broad, clean, and most charmingly situated. On
every side of it rises a wall of mountains, covered to their very
summits with vines, and interspersed with the cottages of the Vignerons.
The river Tardine flows through the valley. This is what is termed a
mountain river, being in summer a brook, and in winter a torrent. In the
year 1715 it rose so high as to sweep away half the town: the
inhabitants were surprised in their beds, and many of them were drowned.
The river, when we passed, had no appearance of being capable of this
tremendous force: it resembled a little brook, in which a shallow stream
of very transparent water rolled over a bed of gravel. "How happy might
an hermit be," said Mademoiselle St. Sillery, "in a cottage on the side
of one of those hills! There is a wood for him to walk in, and a brook
to encourage him, by its soft murmurs, to sleep." I agreed in the
observation which exactly characterizes the scenery.

Our inn at this town was in the midst of a garden, covered with fruits
and flowers. Our beds reminded me of England, exc