abominable. Only tramps understand the luxury of-walking upon a good road.

I came to a hamlet that looked very miserable. The daily toil had scattered
the men afield, and only a few women were to be seen. Not one of them wore
a stocking, nor even a wooden shoe. Some to whom I spoke did not understand
me; those who understood told me that there was no inn in the place--that
there was no one who could give me a meal. One of them must have thought
that I was begging my way, or was exceedingly hard up, for she said: 'Ah!
mon pauvre ami, vous etes dans un malheureux pays.'

Continuing, I came to a village which was not shown on my map. Here I
learnt there was a single auberge, which was also the tobacco shop and
grocery of the place. It was kept by an old man who lived alone. This
inn was a cottage without any sign over it. I tried the door, but it was
locked, and nobody responded to the noise I made. It took me half an hour
to find the solitary at the farther end of the village. He returned with
me, and, opening the door, we both entered the only room of the cottage. It
was shop, bedroom, and kitchen. There was a bed against the wall, and near
the window was a small stock of tobacco, snuff, and groceries all mixed up.
My host's back was much bent and his face deeply furrowed. He wore a shirt
with a high collar, and a blue waistcoat. He was an honest, kindly man,
and seemed to take pleasure in doing what he could for me apart from the
thought of gaining by it.

In the way of food he had only eggs, bread, cheese, and butter. It was
decided that he should fry some eggs. He lighted some sticks upon the
hearth, and there was soon a good blaze; then he laid his great frying-pan
upon it, resting the long handle upon a chair. While the butter was
melting, he opened a trap-door in the floor and went down a ladder into his
cellar. Presently he reappeared with a litre of wine, and having set