We have had to get our money changed on the boat, and that is the first
thing that makes us feel we are really out of England. In exchange for
an English gold pound we get twenty-five--not twenty--French shillings;
these shillings are called francs and are not unlike our shillings at a
first glance, but they are thinner and lighter. Some have the head of
Napoleon, the last French Emperor, on them--these are old; the latest
new ones are rather interesting, for they have a little olive branch on
one side and a graceful figure of a woman sowing seed on the other, so
one can interpret the meaning as peace and plenty. If you change a franc
into copper you get ten--not twelve--pennies for it, and French pennies
look very much like those of England. There are also half-franc pieces
like little sixpences, and two-franc pieces like smaller florins, and
gold pounds called Louis or Napoleons, and half-sovereigns too, but all
the money seems light and rather unreal when one is accustomed to our
more solid coins.

We walk up the gangway into a large barn-like place, where we meet some
smart-looking men in uniform with pointed moustaches turned up to their
eyes and a fierce expression. They stand behind a shelf, on which all
the baggage from the boat is put, and we approach this with our bags in
our hands.

[Illustration: PASSING THE CUSTOMS.]

The official demands in French if we have anything to declare, meaning,
are we bringing across anything which it is forbidden to sell in France,
such as brandy, matches, or cigarettes, for if so we must declare it and
pay something to the Government for allowing us to bring it. We answer
that we have nothing. "Rien, Monsieur," very politely, hoping to soften
his heart, and as we both have honest faces he believes us and scrawls a
chalk-mark on our bags and lets us pass. We are lucky, for now we can go
straight on to the train and get good places before the crowd follows.
Some unfortunate people, however, are caught. One woman who is wearing a
hat with enormous feathers and very high-heeled shoes, has two huge
trunks.

She tries to slip a five-franc piece into the hand of one of the
custom-house officers. It is a silly thing to do, for it at once makes
him think she is concealing something; very loudly and virtuously he
refuses the money, hoping that everyone notices how upright he is, and
then he insists on the contents of her trunks being turned out on to the
counter. Piles of beautif