of potatoes to the cure, so many bushels of grain to the doctor, so many
bushels of vegetables to the postmaster, and to them all so many casks of
the awful wine we produce on the estate, known in the vernacular as "_le
petit bleu_."

When this sour wine is in the golden period of effervescing, any sick
child in the village ticketed by the doctor can be brought to the wine-
presses and dipped in. If labeled "_tres malade_," he is dipped in
twice. Don't you think that this is a dreadful custom? I think that it is
awful to put such an article as this on the market; but then we know that
if a person has tasted it once they never do it again. We try to grow
green corn here; but it degenerates unless the seed is brought every year
from America. This year, not having been renewed, the corn is a failure;
but the American melons ripen here in perfection, and rivalize
successfully with the big French melons. The other day an ambassador ate
so many of them that he begged us to let him stay all night. We were quite
anxious about him, as he had an audience with the Emperor the next
morning; but he managed it somehow.

An important member of the family I must not forget! the governess,
Mademoiselle Wissembourg, who is very much of a personage. After she has
given my sister-in-law and myself our French lessons (for I still go on
studying), she gives the cook his orders, gives out the linen, writes the
letters, smooths away all annoyances, pays the bills, and keeps the
accounts, which she does in an oriental sort of way, with such fantastic
summings-up that my poor father-in-law is often on the verge of
distraction.

Our stables are well garnished; there are eleven horses (my pair
included), fourteen carriages, three coachmen, and no end of stable-boys.