ng the sea. Some members of the family and
very many friends had already made a journey to a far-away country
called Argentina, and others were thinking of going. It seemed that in
that land, which was as sunny and warm as their own, there was more
money to be made than in Spain, and as party by party made up their
minds and set off in one of the great emigrant ships Maria's father grew
more gloomy and unsettled, until at last, by one means or another, he
had scraped together enough money to pay for their passages, and then
they all started on the great adventure, even a greater one than our
going round the world.

[Illustration: A FLOWER SELLER AT TOULON.]

It is only a couple of days after leaving Gibraltar that we reach Toulon
in good time in the morning. We anchor well outside the splendid bay, as
Toulon is one of the most important French ports, and no prying eyes are
wanted there. In the little steam-launch we run past the huge
battleships _La Verite_, _La Republique_, and others lying solidly in a
row manned by French sailors with little red top-knots on their flat
caps. Then we see the beautiful range of high hills surrounding the bay,
and are landed on the quay. The market is one of the most interesting
things here, and we are lucky to be in time for it. Up a long narrow
street are lines of open-air stalls covered with masses of fruit and
vegetables. The natty little Frenchwomen who sell them almost all wear
blue aprons and black dresses, and have little three-cornered shawls
over their shoulders.

Look at that bunch of celery there, it is monstrous--the size of a
child! Everything seems on a huge scale; there are artichokes on great
stalks, melons gleaming deep orange-red and too large for any but a man
to lift; scattered all about are bunches of little scarlet tomatoes not
much bigger than grapes. But the oddest thing to us are the bunches of
fungi, tawny-coloured, piled up in heaps, and evidently very popular!
There are squares of matting covered with chestnuts, and whelks, like
great snails, sticking out their horns and crawling over each other in a
lively way. A strange medley! The flowers are lovely; you can buy a big
bunch of violets for a son, and sou is the peasant word for a halfpenny.
Gladiolus, anemones, roses, and mignonette fill the air with fragrance.
It is a beautiful place this market.

After lunch we stroll down to the quay again and wander idly about
looking at the people until the launch