THE COASTS OF SAINTONGE. 319 



with the father, mother, and children of the family. 

 It is true that M. Valenciennes and myself had each 

 a bed to ourselves. These beds, which had four posts 

 and a canopy surrounded with curtains, were raised 

 two yards above the floor, and might have passed at 

 once for a fortress and an alcove ; but if our eyes 

 Avere unable to see beyond its limits, our other senses 

 were keenly alive to all impressions, and they re- 

 vealed to us many details of domestic management 

 which a more refined host would have been at the 

 pains of concealing from his guests. But when once 

 sleep fell upon us our rest was unbroken till we 

 were called by our host. It was four o'clock when 

 we reached the shore. At this moment the sun was 

 rising behind the alluvial lands of Niort and Grip, 

 in the same manner as it might have done on the 

 open sea. Its beams, reddened by a fog that pro- 

 mised badly for the weather, had coloured the mist 

 suspended over the marshes, imparting a blood-red 

 tinge to every patch of water, and giving to the 

 pebbles that were left by the retiring tide a decep- 

 tive appearance of burning coals, which contrasted 

 strongly with the sharp cold of the early morning 

 air. 



A boat was waiting for us, and favoured by the 

 tide we were soon carried to the entrance of one of 

 the great bouchots. Here, upright upon his aeon, 

 stood a fisherman armed with a kind of large net. 

 Our arrival was the signal for him to begin his fishing 

 operations, and closing the entrance of the bouchot 

 with his net he drew it rapidly away at the end of a 

 few moments, and we could not help admiring the 



