we came down
through St. Martin de Frugeres, the church was crowded to the door,
there were people kneeling without upon the steps, and the sound of the
priest's chanting came forth out of the dim interior. It gave me a home
feeling on the spot; for I am a countryman of the Sabbath, so to speak,
and all Sabbath observances, like a Scottish accent, strike in me mixed
feelings, grateful and the reverse. It is only a traveller, hurrying by
like a person from another planet, who can rightly enjoy the peace and
beauty of the great ascetic feast. The sight of the resting country does
his spirit good. There is something better than music in the wide,
unusual silence; and it disposes him to amiable thoughts, like the sound
of a little river or the warmth of sunlight.

In this pleasant humour I came down the hill to where Goudet stands in a
green end of a valley, with Chateau Beaufort opposite upon a rocky
steep, and the stream, as clear as crystal, lying in a deep pool between
them. Above and below, you may hear it wimpling over the stones, an
amiable stripling of a river, which it seems absurd to call the Loire.
On all sides, Goudet is shut in by mountains; rocky footpaths,
practicable at best for donkeys, join it to the outer world of France;
and the men and women drink and swear, in their green corner, or look up
at the snow-clad peaks in winter from the threshold of their homes, in
an isolation, you would think, like that of Homer's Cyclops. But it is
not so; the postman reaches Goudet with the letter-bag; the aspiring
youth of Goudet are within a day's walk of the railway at Le Puy; and
here in the inn you may find an engraved portrait of the host's nephew,
Regis Senac, "Professor of Fencing and Champion of the two Americas," a
distinction gained by him, along with the sum of five hundred dollars,
at Tammany Hall, New York, on the 10th April 1876.

I hurried over my midday meal, and was early forth again. But, alas, as
we climbed the interminable hill upon the other side, "Proot!" seemed to
have lost its virtue. I prooted like a lion, I prooted mellifluously
like a sucking-dove; but Modestine would be neither softened nor
intimidated. She held doggedly to her pace; nothing but a blow would
move her, and that only for a second. I must follow at her heels,
incessantly belabouring. A moment's pause in this ignoble toil, and she
relapsed into her own private gait. I think I never heard of any one in
as mean a situation. I mus