“Po’ly, Mars’ Jeems—­monsus po’ly.”

“Why, what’s the matter?”

“Things is seyus.”

“What do you mean by serious?”

“We gwine los’ dat crap.”

“Lose the crop!  Why should we lose it?”

“’Cause dat ar crap ar heap too big a crap to be gethered ’thout whisky.  ‘Lasses-and-water nuver gethered no crap sence de woil’ war’ made, ner ’taint gwine to.”

Mr. Madison succumbed:  the whisky was procured, the “crap” was “gethered,” case-bottles and decanters reappeared, and the ancient order was restored at Montpelier, never again to be disturbed.

NOTES.

Amidst the recent hurly-burly of politics in France, involving the fate of the Thiers government, if not of the republic itself, a minor grievance of the artists has probably been little noticed by the general public.  Yet a grievance it was, and one which caused men of taste and sentiment to cry out loudly.  The threatened act of vandalism against which they protested was a proposal to fell part of the Forest of Fontainebleau.  The castle and forest have long belonged to the state, but why the woods should now be cut down by the government is not clear.  The motive is probably to turn the fine timber into cash, though a Paris wit, in pretended despair of other explanation, jokingly alleged, at the time of Prince Napoleon’s late expulsion from France, that the government was afraid the prince, taking refuge in its dense recesses, might there conceal himself (a la Charles II., we presume) in one of its venerable oaks.  At any rate, it was arranged to level a part of the timber, and on hearing of this threatened mutilation of a favorite resort the French artists rallied to beg M. Thiers, like the character in General Morris’s ballad, to “spare those trees.”  And well may they petition, for the forest contains nearly thirty-five thousand acres, abounding in beautiful and picturesque scenery.  It can boast finer trees than any other French forest, while its meadows, lawns and cliffs furnish specimens of almost every plant and flower to be found in France.  Now, when we add that its views are exceedingly varied, its rocks, ravines, plateaus and thickets each offering some entirely different and admirable study to the landscape-painters who frequent it in great numbers during the spring and autumn months (for it is only fourteen or fifteen leagues out of Paris, on the high road to Lyons), we have shown reason enough for the consentaneous action on the part of the men and women of the brush and pencil.