DECEMBER 123 



old house, and the proprietor made his wine from the 

 vineyards every autumn. There was also an old bil- 

 liard-table, and we used to do a little wine -pressing of 

 our own by putting the bunches of fat black grapes into 

 the net pockets and squeezing the juice into a jug. The 

 fruit of all sorts was magnificent ; the greengages, the 

 muscat grapes on the face of the cliff, the gooseberries, 

 strawberries, currants, and in autumn the walnuts, 

 were splendid objects for youthful greediness, and are 

 matters of life -long remembrance to me. 



' The grounds and gardens were under the care of a 

 family who resided in a cottage and bore the name of 

 Diete. There were the Pere and Mere Diete, good old 

 sabot -wearing peasants who worked in and overlooked 

 the vineyards, while their son Martin attended to the 

 garden. We had a coachman called Joseph, an old 

 cavalry soldier who interested us children with his tales 

 of the siege of Antwerp by the French in 1832, and 

 particularly by his account of a cavalry charge in which 

 he took part. The noise of its galloping, he used to 

 say, was like the tonnerre de Dieu. His contempt of 

 the infantry soldier, whom he spoke of as le piou-piou, 

 was characteristic of the attitude of the dragoon towards 

 the foot -soldier in all armies. 



'Augustus and I learnt to swim in the Loire. We 

 used to go out in a punt with a maitre de natation, who 

 hooked us on to a pole by a belt round our waists, and 

 so supported us in the water till we could keep our- 

 selves afloat. We also amused ourselves by sailing a 

 toy boat in the lagunes and back-waters of the river. 

 One day, while so occupied, a French lad of about fif- 

 teen or sixteen began throwing stones at our cutter. 

 Augustus, who was taller than I and much more daring, 

 rushed at the Frenchman, and, after a struggle with 

 him, was thrown on the sand. The French lad, who 



