122 MORE POT-POURRI 



yards every autumn. There was also an old billiard- 

 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, straw- 

 berries, currants, and in autumn the walnuts, were 

 splendid objects for youthful greediness, and are matters 

 of life-long remembrance to me. 



1 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. 



1 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 ourselves 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 fifteen 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 had the best of the wrestle, improved his 

 advantage by taking up handfuls of sand and rubbing it 



