456 THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 



mont " Liberal " an editorial in which Jacques was compared to 

 Arnold Winkelried and to Charles Martel and to St. Austremoine, 

 the first hero of Issoire. The effect was tremendous. Every word 

 from Clermont in praise of Jacques was, as the mayor said, " one 

 more nail in his coffin." 



The election-day came at last — as such days always come. It 

 was a bright Sabbath afternoon in early August, for in France 

 elections are always held on Sunday afternoons. The birds sang 

 in the poplar-trees, the wheat-fields looked yellow through the 

 city gates, the Caf^ du Lion d'Or was covered with flags and with 

 red ribbons in honor of Jacques, while the Cafd de la Comedie was 

 similarly draped in blue in honor of his rival. The people were 

 out in their best clothes and Issoire-made boots, and the candidates 

 were among them — all smiles and attention, though I thought 

 that a slightly misanthropic expression lurked about the big 

 workman's mouth. 



The bands played, and rival processions moved about in the 

 street. The longest of these carried banners inscribed " Vive 

 rOctroi ! " "A bas Clermont ! " " Le Surplus toujours ! " " De 

 Rougeatre forever ! " Everybody seemed falling into line, and so 

 I followed, keeping step with the music. 



All at once I heard a fearful, blood-curdling scream. The pro- 

 cession swiftly dissolved, the music ceased, the banners vanished. 

 I rubbed my eyes and looked about me. I was sitting on an in- 

 verted nail-keg at the Clermont gate just outside the city of Is- 

 soire. The old gendarme who guarded the gate was slowly draw- 

 ing a dripping sword out of a large bundle of oats, in which he 

 had thrust it while performing his duty as inspector. Within the 

 oats was great excitement. The contraband hog concealed inside 

 was lustily kicking and filling the air with his frantic screams. 



And thus I knew that the city had been saved, for the octroi 

 was still going on. 



And it is going on yet. 



♦♦♦ 



THE HOME OF THE GREAT AUK. 



By FEEDEEIC A. LUCAS. 



THE fate of the great auk in its New "World home is well 

 known ; how it was slaughtered for its flesh, slaughtered for 

 its feathers, slaughtered for the mere wanton love of destruction, 

 until after nearly three centuries of persecution the last great auk 

 disappeared from the face of the earth. All this has been de- 

 scribed, so that the bird and its history are fairly well known. 



Less, however, has been written of its chosen breeding-grounds, 

 as these were usually outlying islands of difficult access, but little 

 frequented now by those who have either time or desire to devote 



