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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



filled with innumerable ex-z>otos the sail- 

 ors' sanctuary, the church of Notre Dame 

 de la Garde. Climbing the picturesque 

 cornice road up the 500 feet, wives, moth- 

 ers, and children of the Marseillaise sail- 

 ors bear their gifts — of sorrow for the 

 lost, of thanks for the saved, at sea. 



AMONG lyANDES SHEPHERDS 



It was an unique day, when tarrying 

 in the sandy marshes of Eandes. They 

 talked little, those stolid, acrobatic shep- 

 herds, who in wondrous fashion, uplifted 

 on lofty stilts, guard their flocks. One 

 first likens them to human-headed os- 

 triches, stalking across flooded plains. 

 Quite dextrous — indeed, circus-like — was 

 their way of eating their meals or mak- 

 ing music without dismounting (p. 211). 



Quiet and idyllic were the walks along 

 the fruit-lined roadways of Touraine and 

 strolls through the gardens and grounds 

 of the royal chateaus, famous equally in 

 the domains of art and of history. Along 

 the level tow-path of placid canals was 

 another phase, when one watched — for 

 they did not talk — the trackers. They 

 ' were a misshapen, shaggy folk (now and 

 then a woman, dreadful to see), these 

 human beasts of burden, who, with 

 bowed bodies and with heads protruding 

 from the canvas harness, wearily towed 

 their heavy-laden barges. What wonder 

 that their exhausted bodies and torpid 

 minds nightly sought the Lethean sleep 

 of alcohol, to drown the memory of to- 

 day and the thought of tomorrow. Twen- 

 tieth-century France has fortunately re- 

 placed these awful drains on human en- 

 durance. 



There is no section of France that, in 

 part, was not known first hand, though 

 such knowledge was superficial. But the 

 people were seen, and if at rare times 

 experiences with them were not to one's 

 taste, they were at least illuminating. 

 Two sources of vexation of today were 

 wanting — Cook's tourists and automo- 

 biles. If the language was badly spoken, 

 the words came forth fluently and inter- 

 course was easy. There was always a 

 "Good day" and a "God be with you," as 

 one passed a home group of busy women. 

 The tiny, sabot-shod babes clattered noi- 

 sily around the yard, while their elders 



used the staff and spindle or kept up 

 their everlasting knitting. Few women 

 surpass the French peasant in unremit- 

 ting work. 



COURTESY AND CURIOSITY 



True it was that rude speech followed 

 unintentional intrusion on property, but 

 courtesy, kindness, geniality, hospitality, 

 and intelligence were the rule. A fair- 

 speaking stranger met throughout France 

 a fair-dealing reception. Courtesy was 

 not always unmixed with curiosity, at 

 times a trifle coarse. Kindness was 

 shown by people upholding the rights of 

 an alien in my single wrangle. Hospi- 

 tality extended by offers, of fruit and of 

 wine. Geniality was then a French qual- 

 ity, though in recent years its display to- 

 ward travelers has somewhat abated. Is 

 the French peasant or the American tour- 

 ist most to blame? 



True it is that peasants differ widely — ■ 

 in speech, in dress, in looks, and in cus- 

 toms — but they are all French. There 

 were seen the somber, melancholy Breton, 

 the ruddy-faced Norman, the over-witty 

 Burgundian, the raucous-speaking Au- 

 vergnat, and the mountaineering Savoy- 

 ard. 



INTELL^IGENT PEASANTS 



The peasants intelligent? Yes, though 

 not in Parisian form. Provincial and 

 uncultured to a marked degree, they were 

 shrewd, observing, and well-informed 

 along local lines. Are the mountaineers 

 and those remote from commercial cen- 

 ters in the United States unintelligent be- 

 cause unfamiliar with city knowledge? 



As to honesty, an express train was de- 

 layed five minutes at a French station, 

 evoking from my compartment comrades 

 querulous comments on unreasonable de- 

 lays in Europe, until my senses of humor 

 and of shame were awakened. The train 

 was held to locate me as the owner of a 

 purse that had been left in the buffet. It 

 was more trying that the officials in most 

 courteous language declined to receive an 

 offered reward for the honest employee. 



As a whole, there was no idleness, in- 

 frequent signs of poverty, and an appar- 

 ent absence of dire misery in France of 

 the seventies. They were a vigorous, in- 

 telligent, thrifty, and progressive people. 



