of masts, the heavily laden drays, the lounging sailors, the rough
'longshoremen, and the dirty quays, are no more characteristic of
Bordeaux than New York, London, and Liverpool. But Bordeaux was
interesting as the birthplace of Montesquieu and as the capital of
ancient Guienne and Gascony.

But I must not forget to mention an accident that happened on landing at
Bordeaux. We had innumerable pieces of baggage, a baby carriage, rocking
chair, a box of "The History of Woman Suffrage" for foreign libraries,
besides the usual number of trunks and satchels, and one hamper, in
which were many things we were undecided whether to take or leave. Into
this, a loaded pistol had been carelessly thrown. The hamper being
handled with an emphatic jerk by some jovial French sailor, the pistol
exploded, shooting the bearer through the shoulder. He fell bleeding on
the quay. The dynamite scare being just at its height, the general
consternation was indescribable. Every Frenchman, with vehement
gestures, was chattering to his utmost capacity, but keeping at a
respectful distance from the hamper. No one knew what had caused the
trouble; but Theodore was bound to make an investigation. He proceeded
to untie the ropes and examine the contents, and there he found the
pistol, from which, pointing upward, he fired two other bullets. "Alas!"
said Hattie, "I put that pistol there, never dreaming it was loaded."
The wounded man was taken to the hospital. His injuries were very
slight, but the incident cost us two thousand francs and no end of
annoyance. I was thankful that by some chance the pistol had not gone
off in the hold of the vessel and set the ship on fire, and possibly
sacrificed three hundred lives through one girl's carelessness. Verily
we cannot be too careful in the use of firearms.

Bordeaux is a queer old town, with its innumerable soldiers and priests