respect, and are rarely rude, or seen to laugh.  Those who answer well, and pay the greater attention, receive, with words of commendation, gentle pats upon the head—­and I could not but consider the blush, with which this mark of favour was usually received, as so many presages of future excellence in the youth.  I once witnessed a most determined catechetical lecture of girls; who might be called, in the language of their matrimonial catechism, “de grandes filles.”  It was on an evening, in the Chapel of Our Lady in St. Ouen’s Abbey, that this examination took place.  Two elderly priests attended.  The responses of the females were as quick as they were correct; the eye being always invariably fixed on the pavement, accompanied with a gravity and even piety of expression.  A large group of mothers, with numerous spectators, were in attendance.  A question was put, to which a supposed incorrect response was given.  It was repeated, and the same answer followed.  The priest hesitated:  something like vexation was kindling in his cheek, while the utmost calmness and confidence seemed to mark the countenance of the examinant.  The attendant mothers were struck with surprise.  A silence for one minute ensued.  The question related to the “Holy Spirit.”  The priest gently approached the girl, and softly articulated—­“Mais, ma chere considerez un peu,”—­and repeated the question.  “Mon pere, (yet more softly, rejoined the pupil) j’ai bien consideree, et je crois que c’est comme je vous l’ai deja dit.”  The Priest crossed his hands upon his breast ... brought down his eyebrows in a thoughtful mood ... and turning quickly round to the girl, addressed her in the most affectionate tone of voice—­“Ma petite,—­tu as bien dit; et j’avois tort.”  The conduct of the girl was admirable:  She curtsied, blushed... and with eyes, from which tears seemed ready to start, surveyed the circle of spectators ... caught the approving glance of her mother, and sunk triumphantly upon her chair—­with the united admiration of teachers, companions, parents and spectators!  The whole was conducted with the most perfect propriety; and the pastors did not withdraw till they were fairly exhausted.  A love of truth obliges me to confess that this reciprocity of zeal, on the part of master and pupil, is equally creditable to both parties; and especially serviceable to the cause of religion and morality.

Let me here make honourable mention of the kind offices of Monsieur Longchamp, who volunteered his friendly services in walking over half the town with me, to shew me what he justly considered as the most worthy of observation.  It is impossible for a generous mind to refuse its testimony to the ever prompt kindness of a well-bred Frenchman, in rendering you all the services in his power.  Enquire the way,—­and you have not only a finger quickly pointing to it, but the owner of the finger must also put himself in motion to accompany you a short distance upon the route, and that too uncovered!  “Mais, Monsieur, mettez votre chapeau ... je vous en prie ... mille pardons.”  “Monsieur ne dites pas un seul mot ... pour mon chapeau, qu’il reste a son aise.”