and draughts.

A post office, of course, Bourron possesses, but let no one imagine that
a post office in out of the way country places implies a supply of
postage stamps. English people are the greatest scribblers by post in
the world, whilst our wiser French neighbours appear to be the laziest.
An amusing dilemma had occurred here just before my arrival. One day my
friends applied to the post office for stamps, but none were to be had
for love or money. Off somebody cycled to Marlotte, which possesses not
only a post and telegraph, but a money order office as well--same reply,
next the adjoining village of Grez was visited and with no better
result--"Supplies have not yet reached us from headquarters," said the
third postmistress.

Perhaps instead of smiling contemptuously we should take a moral to
heart. The amount of time, money, eyesight and handcraft expended among
ourselves on letter writing so-called is simply appalling. Was it not
Napoleon who said that all letters if left unanswered for a month
answered themselves? Too many Englishwomen spend the greater portion of
the day in what is no longer a delicate art, but mere time-killing,
after the manner of patience, games of cards and similar pastimes.

Bourron is a most orderly village; within its precincts liberty is not
allowed to degenerate into licence. As in summer-time folks are fond of
spending their evenings abroad, a municipal law has enforced quiet after
ten o'clock. Thus precisely on the stroke of ten, alike cafe, garden,
private summer-house or doorstep are deserted, everyone betakes himself
indoors, leaving his neighbours to enjoy unbroken repose. A most
salutary by-law! Would it were put in force throughout the length and
breadth of France! At Chatouroux I have been kept awake all night by the