this trouble sadly; but, then, they were Southern flies.

Having driven them from the table, the aged woman nodded her head with
vindictive satisfaction, and murmured, '_C'est egal; elles vont bientot
crever_'--unmindful of the fact that she, too, had reached the season of
life when the frost comes suddenly and catches people unawares.

I returned to the river and crossed the bridge. On one side of it was a
high statue of the Madonna and Child, with these words on the pedestal:
'_Protectrice du pont, priez pour nous._.' The inscription further stated
that the statue was raised in remembrance of the flood of 1866. That was
in the time of the Empire; nowadays the Government despises all heavenly
assistance in the department of roads and bridges, and religious statues
are no longer erected in such places. Just before reaching a village
called Coux, I was confronted by a very large army of geese, and while the
foremost row advanced to the attack with outstretched necks and bills laid
near the ground, the others cheered them on. For a minute or so matters
looked very serious; then goose and gander courage failed completely, until
the army worked round to my rear, when the screams of defiance arose again.

Poor wretches! their high spirits were not going to last long. They would
soon have to undergo the cramming process, which a goose detests, for,
unlike a pig, it will never of its own will eat more than it needs. In a
few weeks the livers of most of them would be made into those excellent
truffled _pates de foie gras_, which it is the pride and profit of Perigord
to send far and wide.

A grand old elm, such as one does not often see in France, stood in front
of the village church--a Transition building with a Romanesque portal.
Beyond this place the land became marshy, and considerable tracts of it had