232 NATHANIEL SOUTHGATE SHALER 



mornings at the little village of B. On these occasions Mr. 

 Shaler won the hearts of the people by his enthusiastic applause, 

 especially when the ball struck, as it often did, the heart of the 

 French Zouave (a stuffed figure) which just then represented 

 the arch-enemy across the border. His familiarity with Swit- 

 zerland's heroic struggles against over-confident invaders was 

 always the road to a friendly understanding between him and 

 the sturdy country folk, whom he loved to compliment on their 

 capacity to drive back at any time new foes as insolent as the 

 old ones. 



At Le Locle, the centre of the watch industry, Mr. Shaler made 

 the acquaintance of an excellent geologist with whom he had 

 some pleasant and instructive walks. Monsieur Jacquard was a 

 member of a watchmakers' association, also a maker of watches 

 himself. In his house Mr. Shaler bought a lady's watch still 

 warm, so to speak, from the friction of the machine which en- 

 graved it. This delicate industry carried on in the homes of 

 the artisans, uniting the domestic and the economic under 

 such simple conditions, was to him a far more satisfactory sight 

 than the well-equipped, well-organized, but less human manu- 

 factory at Waltham, Massachusetts. Indeed, every enterprise 

 in which the family life was harmoniously blended, was, to 

 his mind, the best solution of social difficulties. 



It was at this same town that he had the chance of "assist- 

 ing," in the French sense of the word, at a unique spectacle 

 a military review of the children soldiers, uniformed and 

 equipped like their elder fighting brothers ; muskets and can- 

 non, all of a size to match their small dimensions. These young 

 heroes at first showed themselves past masters of drill, execut- 

 ing the manoeuvres with exemplary precision ; but after the 

 early dinner provided by the good mothers of the town, many 

 a young warrior who had stood steadfast in the morning 

 wavered in his alignment and stumbled in his march, while 

 others with their hands significantly clasped over the seat of 

 pain were led off the mimic field of battle. One little fellow who 



