tion, and brushed up our memories of the Inquisition,
which were principally drawn from Poe's horrid story, and the sermon in
"Tristram Shandy," I believe.

On the morrow we had an opportunity of going further into the question;
for when we rose very early to avoid a sympathizing deputation at our
departure, we found the hero up before us. He was breaking his fast on
white wine and raw onions, in order to keep up the character of martyr,
I conclude. We had a long conversation, and made out what we wanted in
spite of his reserve. But here was a truly curious circumstance. It
seems possible for two Scotsmen and a Frenchman to discuss during a
long half-hour, and each nationality have a different idea in view
throughout. It was not till the very end that we discovered his heresy
had been political, or that he suspected our mistake. The terms and
spirit in which he spoke of his political beliefs were, in our eyes,
suited to religious beliefs. And _vice versa_.

Nothing could be more characteristic of the two countries. Politics are
the religion of France; as Nanty Ewart would have said, "A d----d bad
religion"; while we, at home, keep most of our bitterness for little
differences about a hymn-book, or a Hebrew word which perhaps neither of
the parties can translate. And perhaps the misconception is typical of
many others that may never be cleared up: not only between people of
different race, but between those of different sex.

As for our friend's martyrdom, he was a Communist, or perhaps only a
Communard, which is a very different thing; and had lost one or more
situations in consequence. I think he had also been rejected in
marriage; but perhaps he had a sentimental way of considering business
which deceived me. He was a mild, gentle creature, anyway; and I hope he
has got a better situation, and married a more suitable wife since
then.

DOWN THE OISE

TO MOY

Carnival notoriously cheated us at first. Finding us easy in our ways,
he regretted having let us oil so cheaply; and taking me aside, told me
a cock-and-bull story with the moral of another five francs for the
narrator. The thing was palpably absurd; but I paid up, and at once
dropped all friendliness of manner, and kept him in his place as an
inferior with freezing British dignity. He saw in a moment that he had
gone too far, and killed a willing horse; his face fell; I am sure he
would have refunded if he could only have thought of a decent pretex