thousandth time, I believe,--who gave him
that glass of claret, and cheered up his Christmas, I verily
believe they would have taken me to the church to worship me.
They were not satisfied,--the women with kissing me, or the men
with shaking hands with each other,--the whole _auberge_ had to
be called in; and poor I was famous. I need not say I cried my
eyes out; and when, at ten o'clock, they let me go to bed, I was
worn out with crying, and laughing, and talking, and listening;
and I believe they were as much upset as I.

Now that is just the beginning; and yet I see I must stop. But,
for forty-eight hours, I have been simply a queen. I can hardly
put my foot to the ground. Christmas morning, these dear
Thibault people came again; and then the _cure_ came; and then
some nice Madame Perrons came, and I went to mass with them;
and, after mass, their brother's carriage came; and they would
take no refusals; but with many apologies to my sweet old
hostess, at the Three Cygnets, I was fain to come up to M.
Firmin's lovely _chateau_ here, and make myself at home till my
friends shall arrive. It seems the poor Thibaults had come here
to beg the flowers for the _etrenne._ It is really the most
beautiful country residence I have seen in France; and they live
on the most patriarchal footing with all the people round them.
I am sure I ought to speak kindly of them. It is the most
fascinating hospitality. So here am I, waiting, with my little
_sac de nuit_ to make me _aspettabile_; and here I ate my
Christmas dinner. Tell the Colonel that here is "THE TRAVELLER'S
TALE;" and that is why the letter is so long.

Most truly yours,
HULDAH ROOT.

IV.

ONE CHRISTMAS MORE.

This last Christmas party is Huldah's own. It is hers, at least, as much
as it is any one's. There are five of them, nay, six, with equal right
to precedence in the John o' Groat's house, where she has settled down.
It is one of those comfortable houses which are still left three miles
out from the old State House in Boston. It is not all on one floor; that
would be, perhaps, too much like the golden courts of heaven. There are
two stories; but they are connected by a central flight of stairs of
easy tread (designed by Charles Cummings); so easy, and so stately
withal, that, as you pass over them, you always bless the builder, and
hardl