ustom here. In France people start with only coffee and rolls
and then go off and do a good morning's work, and come back again to eat
a large meal which is a sort of breakfast and lunch rolled into one, at
about twelve o'clock. It all depends on what one is accustomed to, and
certainly we look very hungrily at the small dish of eggs that appears!

Meantime I am getting a little anxious about my boots. I put them out
last night to be cleaned, but this is such a large place, with so many
people coming and going, that I began to wonder if they have been taken
to the wrong room; timidly I ask the waiter, who brings the breakfast,
if he can find them. With a knowing smile he stoops down and opens a
tiny cupboard in the wall near the door, and there, slipped in from
outside, are the boots! "Voila!" he says triumphantly, as if he had just
brought off a successful conjuring trick. Certainly what with the taps
and telephone and trap-doors for boots this hotel is very much up to
date.

North of Paris we have seen orchards of apple and cherry trees, but
farther south, as we rush along, we get into a land of vineyards, where
rows of little vines are being cultivated on every foot of ground on the
hillsides. By nightfall we reach Marseilles, and if we were going on to
Toulon it would have taken two hours more.

Marseilles is the largest seaport in France, and is second only to Paris
in size and importance.

Do you know those preserved fruits which generally appear about
Christmas-time in oval cardboard or long wooden boxes? Have you ever
wondered if they are real fruit, and where they come from? They _are_
real fruit, boiled and dipped in syrup, though they taste very different
from the same fruit freshly gathered. A great deal of the preserving is
done in France, especially along the south coast, and when we get to
Marseilles we are in the very heart of the business.

After passing the night in an hotel we have time to wander about a bit
before going down to the docks to find our ship.

The sun is shining brightly as we turn out after another breakfast,
which only seems to have given an edge to our keen British appetites.
There is a nasty cold wind blowing round corners and buffeting people.
The pavements are very lively; we see women and girls hurrying about
doing household shopping, and boys in heavy cloth capes and military
caps, so that they look like cadets, this is the uniform worn by
better-class schoolboys in France.