CHAPTER V.


BOURRON--_continued._

I will now say something about my numerous acquaintances at Bourron.
After three summer holidays spent in this friendly little spot I can
boast of a pretty large visiting list, the kind of list requiring no
cards or ceremonious procedure. My hostess, a Frenchwoman, and myself
used to drop in for a chat with this neighbour and that whenever we
passed their way, always being cheerily welcomed and always pressed to
stay a little longer.

The French peasant is the most laborious, at the same time the most
leisurely, individual in the world. Urgent indeed must be those farming
operations that prevent him from enjoying a talk. Conversation,
interchange of ideas, give and take by word of mouth, are as necessary
to the Frenchman's well-being as oxygen to his lungs.

"Man," writes Montesquieu, "is described as a sociable animal." From
this point of view it appears to me that the Frenchman may be called
more of a man than others; he is first and foremost a man, since he
seems especially made for society.

Elsewhere the same great writer adds:--"You may see in Paris individuals
who have enough to live upon for the rest of their days, yet they labour
so arduously as to shorten their days, in order, as they say, to assure