try here. He has since turned his
establishment over, I am told, to a company at a great profit to
himself, and gone back 'to the Rocky Mountains.' I am sorry for this,
for I should have been glad to 'interview' him!

CHAPTER IX

IN THE AISNE--_continued_

LAON

It would be hard to find in France, or out of France, on a pleasant
summer's day, a more charming drive than the highway which leads from
Chauny, with its great modern industries and its lively, bustling
people, to the little feudal town of Coucy-le-Chateau, perched upon its
lofty hill and dominated by one of the grandest, if not, indeed, the
grandest, of feudal fortress-homes.

I do not know that Gargantua would now find the people of Chauny as
entertaining as Rabelais tells us they were in his time. Then he 'amused
himself much with the boatmen, and above all with those of Chauny in
Picardy--wonderful chatterboxes, and great at bandying chaff on the
subject of green monkeys.' There is no lack of boatmen now at Chauny,
though the railway has taken away much of their living; but the glory of
the green monkeys, I fear, has departed. In the days of Gargantua, the
Chaunois were as famous as the Savoyards now are, for wandering over
France with trained monkeys and trained dogs. On October 1 in each year,
on the feast of St. Remy, every one of these peripatetic citizens was
expected to appear in his native town, there to join in a procession
which marched from what is now known as the Port Royal to the Bailliage,
bearing to the lieutenant-general of the king a traditional present in
the form of a huge pasty, decorated with eggs and chestnuts, and
surmounted by a pastry tower.

To the confection of this pasty the famous mills of Chauny, reputed the
best in France, were bound to contribute five _setiers_ of wheat, and
the guild of the butchers a calf's head.

Before the procession marched a learned dog, trained to all manner of
tricks and devices, and upon either side of the dog the town trumpeters,
sounding their finest and loudest _fanfares_.

At the Bailliage the lieutenant-general received the procession, seated
in a great chair of state in the midst of the hall, with wide open
doors, that all the people crowding into the Place might see what went
on within. Before this high functionary the learned dog advanced, quite
alone, and performed all his best tricks. He then gave way to the bearer
of the pasty. This having been gravely accepted, after t