A GLIMPSE OF FRANCE. 



It was a bright October morning as we steamed into 

 the little harbor at Dieppe, and the first scene that met 

 my eye was, I suppose, a characteristic one — four or 

 five old men and women towing a vessel into a dock. 

 They bent beneath the rope that passed from shoulder 

 to shoulder, and tugged away doggedly at it, the women 

 apparently more than able to do their part. There is 

 no equalizer of the sexes like poverty and misery, and 

 then it very often happens that the gray mare proves 

 the better horse. Throughout the agricultural regions, 

 as we passed along, the men apparently all wore petti- 

 coats ; at least, the petticoats were the most active and 

 prominent in the field occupations. Their wearers 

 were digging potatoes, pulling beets, following the har- 

 row (in one instance a thorn-bush drawn by a cow), 

 and stirring the wet, new-mown grass. I believe the 

 pantaloons were doing the mowing. But I looked in 

 vain for any Maud Miillers in the meadows, and have 

 concluded that these can only be found in New England 

 hay-fields ! And herein is one of the first surprises 

 that awaits one on visiting the Old World countries, 

 the absence of graceful, girlish figures, and bright girl- 

 ish faces, among the peasantry or rural population. In 

 France I certainly expected to see female beau.ty every- 

 where, but did not get one gleam all that sunny day till 

 I got to Paris. Is it a plant that only flourishes in 

 cities on this side of the Atlantic, or do all the pretty 

 girls, as soon as they are grown, pack their trunks, and 

 leave for the gay metropolis ? 



