wear a wonderful white cap with a high starched frill which stands out around their faces like an aureole.  They, too, wear short full skirts, but have long stockings and very good stout shoes—­not sabots—­which are also disappearing.  They turn out very well on Sundays.  I saw a lot of them the other day coming out of church—­all with their caps scrupulously clean—­short, full, black or brown skirts; aprons ironed in a curious way—­across the apron—­making little waves (our maids couldn’t think what had happened to their white aprons the first time they came back from the wash—­thought there had been some mistake and they had some one’s else clothes—­they had to explain to the washerwoman that they liked their aprons ironed straight); long gold earrings and gold chains.  They are handsome women, dark with straight features, a serious look in their eyes.  Certainly people who live by the sea have a different expression—­there is something grave, almost sad in their faces, which one doesn’t see in dwellers in sunny meadows and woodlands.

We went this morning with the Baron de G., who is at the head of one of the fishing companies here, to see one of their boats come in and unload.  It was a steam trawler, with enormous nets, that had been fishing off the English coast near Land’s End.  There were quite a number of people assembled on the quay—­a policeman, a garde du port, an agent of the company, and the usual lot of people who are always about when a fishing-boat comes in.  Her cargo seemed to be almost entirely of fish they call here saumon blanc.  They were sending up great baskets of them from the hold where they were very well packed in ice; half-way up they were thrown into a big tub which cleaned them—­took off the salt and gave them a silvery look.  They are put by hundreds into hand-carts which were waiting and carried off at once to the Halles.  They had brought in 3,500 fish, but didn’t seem to think they had made a very good haul.  The whole cargo had been sold to a marieur and was sent off at once, by him, all over the country.

Other boats were also sending their cargo to the Halles.  They had all kinds of fish—­soles, mackerel, and a big red fish I didn’t know at all.  I wouldn’t have believed, if I had not seen it with my own eyes, that such a bright-coloured fish could exist.  However, a very sharp little boy, who was standing near and who answered all my questions, told me they were rougets.  We went on to the Halles—­a large gray stone building facing the sea—­rather imposing with a square tower on top, from which one can see a long way out to sea and signal incoming fishing-boats.  It was very clean—­water running over the white marble slabs, and women, with pails and brushes, washing and wiping the floor.  It is evidently a place that attracts strangers; many tourists were walking about—­one couple, American, I think, passing through in an automobile and laying in a stock of lobsters and crabs (the big deep-sea crabs) and rougets.  The man rather hesitated about leaving his auto in the streets; they had no chauffeur with them, tried to find a boy who would watch it.  For a wonder none was forthcoming, but two young fishwives, who were standing near, said they would; when the man came back with his purchases he gave each of them a five-franc piece, which munificence so astounded them that they could hardly find words to thank him.