good impression on me--was very quiet, didn't give too much medicine
(apothecaries' bills are always such a terror to the poor), and spoke
kindly to the woman. He comes still in a cabriolet, but his Russian
colleague has an automobile--indeed so have now many of the young
French doctors. I think there is a little rivalry between the
Frenchmen and the foreigners, but the latter certainly make their way.

What is very serious now is the open warfare between the curé and the
school-master. When I first married, the school-masters and mistresses
took their children to church, always sat with them and kept them in
order. The school-mistress sometimes played the organ. Now they not
only don't go to church themselves, but they try to prevent the
children from going. The result is that half the children don't go
either to the church or to the catechism.

I had a really annoying instance of this state of things one year when
we wanted to make a Christmas tree and distribution of warm clothes at
Montigny, a lonely little village not far from us. We talked it over
with the curé and the school-master. They gave us the names and ages
of all the children, and were both much pleased to have a fête in
their quiet little corner. I didn't suggest a service in the church,
as I thought that might perhaps be a difficulty for the school-master.

Two days before the fête I had a visit from the curé of Montigny, who
looked embarrassed and awkward; had evidently something on his mind,
and finally blurted out that he was very sorry he couldn't be present
at the Christmas tree, as he was obliged to go to Reims that day. I,
much surprised and decidedly put out: "You are going to Reims the one
day in the year when we come and make a fête in your village? It is
most extraordinary, and surprises me extremely. The date has been