made a fine haul of fish on those occasions from the small pools that
were left on each side while the cleaning was going on.

Our ice-house was a godsend to all the countryside. Whenever any one
was ill, and ice was wanted, they always came to the château. Our good
old doctor was not at all in the movement as regarded fresh air and
cold water, but ice he often wanted. He was a rough, kindly old man,
quite the type of the country practitioner--a type that is also
disappearing, like everything else. Everybody knew his cabriolet (with
a box at the back where he kept his medicine chest and instruments),
with a strong brown horse that trotted all day and all night up and
down the steep hills in all weathers. A very small boy was always with
him to hold the horse while he made his visits.

Our doctor was very kind to the poor, and never refused to go out at
night. It was funny to see him arrive on a cold day, enveloped in so
many cloaks and woollen comforters that it took him some time to get
out of his wraps. He had a gruff voice, and heavy black overhanging
eyebrows which frightened people at first, but they soon found out
what a kind heart there was beneath such a rough exterior, and the
children loved him. He had always a box of liquorice lozenges in his
waistcoat pocket which he distributed freely to the small ones.

The country doctors about us now are a very different type--much
younger men, many foreigners. There are two Russians and a Greek in
some of the small villages near us. I believe they are very good. I
met the Greek one day at the keeper's cottage. He was looking after
the keeper's wife, who was very ill. It seemed funny to see a Greek,
with one of those long Greek names ending in "popolo," in a poor
little French village almost lost in the woods; but he made a very