mblems of woe, Versailles can never appear other
than bright and attractive. Even in mid-winter the skies were clear, and
on the shortest days the sun seldom forgot to cast a warm glow over the
gay, white-painted houses. And though the women's dress tends towards
depression, the brilliant military uniforms make amends. There are
12,000 soldiers stationed in Versailles; and where a fifth of the
population is gorgeous in scarlet and blue and gold, no town can be
accused of lacking colour.

Next to the redundant manifestations of grief, the thing that most
impressed us was the rigid economy practised in even the smallest
details of expenditure. Among the lower classes there is none of that
aping of fashion so prevalent in prodigal England; the different social
grades have each a distinctive dress and are content to wear it. Among
the men, blouses of stout blue cotton and sabots are common. Sometimes
velveteen trousers, whose original tint years of wear have toned to some
exquisite shade of heliotrope, and a russet coat worn with a fur cap and
red neckerchief, compose an effect that for harmonious colouring would
be hard to beat. The female of his species, as is the case in all
natural animals, is content to be less adorned. Her skirt is black, her
apron blue. While she is young, her neatly dressed hair, even in the
coldest weather, is guiltless of covering. As her years increase she
takes her choice of three head-dresses, and to shelter her grey locks
selects either a black knitted hood, a checked cotton handkerchief, or a
white cap of ridiculously unbecoming design.

No French workaday father need fear that his earnings will be squandered
on such perishable adornments as feathers, artificial flowers, or
ribbons. The purchases of his spouse are certain to be governed by
extreme frugality. She selects the family raiment with a view to
durability. Flimsy finery that the sun would fade, shoddy materials that
a shower of rain would ruin, offer no temptations to her. When she
expends a few _sous_ on the cutting of her boy's hair, she has it
cropped until his cranium resembles the soft, furry skin of a mole, thus
rendering further outlay in this respect unlikely for months. And when
she buys a flannel shirt, a six-inch strip of the stuff, for future
mending, is always included in the price.

But with all this economy there is an air of comfort, a complete absence
of squalor. In cold weather the school-girls wear snug hoods, or