Our Little French Cousin

barge people and their floating home, as well as from the beautiful

explain things to her. The tall man in a blue uniform was the station-master, and one could always tell him from the other blue-uniformed officials, because he wore a white cap.

e porters, in blue blouses like any French working man, except they

" said Uncle Daboll, "and, as soon as we leave this tunnel we are now going t

before them stretched out a panorama of Rouen, with a jumble of factory chimn

nd third class cars,-carriages, they are called,-and each carriage is divided into compartments, each compartment holding six persons in the first class, three on

roof, and one can look over and see who his neighbours may be. The people who travel third class on French railways are a very sociable lot, and every one soon gets to talking. A French third

as they had getting all their various

are high from the ground and hard to get into, especially when one has huge baskets o

bags of potatoes, and their big s

on a seat quite out of breath, when from under the cover of one basket two ducks' heads appeared with a loud "quack, quack, quack." "Ah, my beauties, get back," and she tapped them playfully

she saw a gleam of bright eyes through the cracks, and sure enough it was full of little white rabbits. The old woman, seeing her interest, let her stroke their

by and laughed at them both. Perhaps no wonder one of them was cross. She looked every little while at a big basket of eggs she carried, some of which were broken, and with small wonder, it would seem to inexper

it was. One had only to look out at the orchards they were passing to see the truth of this, for the apple

laying dominoes, one of the women who was with

mother took from a basket a part of a big loaf, from which she cut slices and distribute

l over the carriage. Such a clattering of tongues, flapping of wings, and distressful clucks from the po

age each time, but cheerfully and politely helped disentangle the belongings of the departing ones, and carefully helped to lift the baskets on to the platform, amid pr

crossed, there are gates, which must be kept closed while trains are passing. Not only must the gatekeeper, who is generally a woman, have the gates tight shut, but she must also stand beside them like a soldier at his post, with her brass horn in one hand and a red flag, rolled up, in the other, showing that she is prep

. The fête at Rouen was the topic of conversation until its glories paled before Petit Andelys' own special fête, which was held some weeks aft