as in that Russian Monastery.

With June at Nyons, silkworm time arrived. Three old women, celebrated
for their skill in rearing silkworms, came down from the mountains, and
the magnanerie, as lofts devoted to silkworm culture are called, was
filled with huge trays fashioned with reeds. The old women had a very
strenuous fortnight or so, for silkworms demand immense care and
attention. The trays have to be perpetually cleaned out, and all stale
mulberry leaves removed, for the quality and quantity of the silk
depend on the most scrupulous cleanliness. To preserve an even
temperature, charcoal fires were lighted in the magnanerie, until the
little black caterpillars, having transformed themselves into repulsive
flabby white worms, these worms became obsessed with the desire to
increase the world's supply of silk, and to gratify them, twigs were
placed in the trays for them to spin their cocoons on. The cocoons
spun, they were all picked off, and baked in the public ovens of the
town, in order to kill the chrysalis inside. Nothing prettier can be
imagined than the streets of Nyons, with white sheets laid in front of
every house, each sheet heaped high with glittering, shimmering,
gleaming piles of silk-cocoons, varying in shade from palest
straw-colour to deep orange. If pleasant to the eye, they were less
grateful to the nose, for freshly baked cocoons have the most offensive
odour. The silk-buyers from Lyons then made their appearance, and these
shining heaps of gold thread were transformed into a more portable form
of gold, which found its way into the pockets of the inhabitants.

The peculiarly French capacity for taking infinite pains, of which a
good example is this silkworm culture, has its drawbacks, when carried
into administrative work. My friend M. David, the post-master of Nyons,
showed me his official instructions. They formed a volume as big as a
family Bible. It would have taken years to learn all these regulations.
The simplest operations were made enormously complicated. Let any one
compare the time required for registering a letter or a parcel in
England, with the time a similar operation in France will demand. M.
David showed me the lithographed sheet giving the special forms of
numerals, 1, 2, 3, and so on, which French postal officials are
required to make. These differ widely from the forms in general use.

I have my own suspicions that similar sheets are issued to the cashiers
in French restaurant