fly-paper on it. The mistress of the house was shy and uncomfortable;
sent at once for her husband, and withdrew from the conversation as
soon as he appeared, leaving him to make all the "frais." We walked a
little around the park before leaving. It was really a lovely little
place, with its background of forest and the quiet, sleepy little
village in front; very lonely and far from everything, but with a
certain charm of its own. Two or three dogs were playing in the
court-yard, and one curious little animal who made a rush at the
strangers. I was rather taken aback, particularly when the master of
the house told me not to be afraid, it was only a marcassin (small
wild boar), who had been born on the place, and was as quiet as a
kitten. I did not think the great tusks and square, shaggy head looked
very pleasant, but the little thing was quiet enough, came and rubbed
itself against its master's legs and played quite happily with the
dogs. We heard afterward that they were obliged to kill it. It grew
fierce and unmanageable, and no one would come near the place.

* * * * *

I took Henrietta with me sometimes when I had a distant visit to pay;
an hour and a half's drive alone on a country road where you never
meet anything was rather dull. We went one cold December afternoon to
call upon Mme. B., the widow of an old friend and colleague of W.'s.
We were in the open carriage, well wrapped up, and enjoyed the drive
immensely. The country looked beautiful in the bright winter sunshine,
the distant forest always in a blue mist, the trees with their
branches white with "givre" (hoarfrost), and patches of snow and ice
all over the fields.

For a wonder we didn't go through the forest--drove straight away from