670 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 



I was born ; I saluted by their names the members of all the families 

 of the valley. And now, when I go to the country, it is always a 

 great pleasure to visit these houses, one by one, and take by the hand 

 those from whom I have been so long separated. But this happiness 

 is always mingled with sorrow ; the number of those I knew dimin- 

 ishes with each visit, and those who have come since cannot replace 

 them for me. 



Permit me to give you the history of one of these families. It 

 occurs to me first, as it contrasted with all the others by its miserable 

 dwelling. This was a little thatch-built cottage, standing by itself at 

 the foot of an irregular slope of perfectly bare rocks. It consisted of 

 a single story, with only one room, scarcely larger than one of our 

 bedrooms ; the wall, built without mortar, was any thing but regular ; 

 the roof consisted of flags of stone, retaining, as well as they were 

 able, a mass of straw and branches. Between the rocks that sup- 

 ported this house and the wall, there was a little place where was 

 kept a pig, the ordinary resource of all Cevennol house-keeping. 



This cottage was occupied, when I was eleven or twelve years old, 

 by a man with his wife and four children. The father and mother 

 worked in the field; the eldest child, scarcely of my age, had begun to 

 be useful, particularly in the time of gathering the mulberry-leaves ; 

 the smaller ones drove the pig along the road, where it grew and fat- 

 tened, the best it could, without any expense. 



After an absence of ten years, I returned to my mountains, and the 

 first thing was to call upon my old neighbors, those of whom I have 

 spoken among the rest. In approaching, I scarcely knew the place. The 

 rocks that supported the house had disappeared to make way for those 

 traversiers of which I shall tell you presently; the house had been re- 

 built, it had gained a story, and was of double its former extent ; its 

 walls were laid in mortar ; its roof covered with beautiful slate. The 

 master of the house was absent, but his wife welcomed me with a glass 

 of wine from a neat walnut table. Then she showed me, with proper 

 pride, a room with two beds at the farther end, the first portion being 

 devoted to the rearing of silk-worms ; and, above all, the favorite ar- 

 ticle of furniture of all good Cevennol housekeeping an immense 

 cupboard of walnut, crammed with clothing, dresses, and raiment 

 of all sorts. At the same time she gave me news of all the family : 

 the eldest son was a soldier ; a daughter was married ; the eldest re- 

 maining children attended to the business, and, as of old, the younger 

 ones ran about watching the pig. I clasped with pleasure the hand 

 of this brave woman, because this competence was the fruit of good 

 conduct, of industry, of perseverance, and of economy. And what 

 the silk-worm did in ten years for one family it has been doing for 

 nearly a century for the whole region of Cevennes, because among 

 them you generally find the same elements of success. 



That you may better understand me, I wish to give you some idea 



