A GLIMPSE OF FRANCE. 221 



Bondy, and I don't know how many others, are near 

 at hand, and are much prized. What the animus of 

 this love may be is not so clear. It cannot be a love 

 of solitude, for the French are characteristically a 

 social and gregarious people. It cannot be the Eng- 

 lish poetical or Wordsworthian feeling for Nature,' 

 because French literature does not show this sense or 

 this kind of perception. I am inclined to think the 

 forest is congenial to their love of form and their 

 sharp perceptions, but more especially to that kind of 

 fear and wildness which they at times exhibit ; for 

 civilization has not quenched the primitive ardor and 

 fierceness of the Frenchman yet, and it is to be hoped 

 it never may. He is still more than half a wild man, 

 and, if turned loose in the woods, I think would de- 

 velop, in tooth and nail, and in all the savage, brute 

 instincts, more rapidly than the men of any other 

 race, except possibly the Slavic. Have not his de- 

 scendants in this country the Canadian French 

 turned and lived with the Indians, and taken to wild, 

 savage customs with more relish and genius than have 

 any other people ? How hairy and vehement and 

 pantomimic he is ! How his eyes glance from under 

 his heavy brows! His type among the animals is 

 the wolf, and one readily recalls how largely the 

 wolf figures in the traditions and legends and folk- 

 lore of Continental Europe, and how closely his re- 

 oiains are associated with those of man in the bone- 

 caves of the geologists. He has not stalked through 

 their forests and fascinated their imaginations so long 



