1 P.M., ordering and march of a procession, and review of
     Sappers and Miners.

     2 P.M., ascension of grotesque balloons.

     2-1/2 P.M., race of velocipedes.

     3-1/2 P.M., climbing poles and races in sacks.

     5 P.M., performance of music in the Place de l’Eglise;
     band of the 19th Regiment.

     6 P.M., grand dinner in the College Hall, with toasts,
     speeches, and concert.

     8 P.M., general illumination with Chinese lanterns, &c.

     9 P.M., Display of fireworks; procession with torches to
     the music of the military band.’

     N.B.  Every householder is requested to contribute to the gaiety by
     illuminating his own house—­By order of the Maire.

How the rather obscure little town of Pont l’Eveque suddenly becomes important,—­how it puts on (as only a French town knows how to do) an alluring and coquettish appearance; how the people promenade arm and arm, up the street and down the street, on the dry little place, and under the shrivelled-up trees; how they play at cards and dominoes in the middle of the road, and crowd to the canvas booths outside the town—­would be a long task to tell.  They crowd everywhere—­to the menagerie of wild beasts, to see the ‘pelican of the wilderness;’ to the penny peepshows, where they fire six shots for a sou at a plaster cast of Bismarck; to the lotteries for crockery and bonbons, and to all sorts of exhibitions ‘gratis.’  Of the quantity of cider and absinthe consumed in one day, the holiday-makers may have rather a confused and careless recollection, as they are jogged home, thirteen deep in a long cart, with a neglected, footsore old horse, weighed down with his clumsy harness and his creaking load, and deafened by the jingling of his rusty bells.

But if we happen to be in one of the larger towns during the time of the Imperial fetes (the 15th of August), or at a seaport on the occasion of the annual procession in honour of the Virgin, we shall see a more striking ceremony still.  The processions are very characteristic, with the long lines of fisherwomen in their scarlet and coloured dresses, and handkerchiefs tied round the head; the fishermen, old and weather-beaten, boys in semi-naval costume, neat and trim; and perhaps a hundred little children, dressed in blue and white.  A dense mass of people crowding through the hot streets all day, impressive from their numbers, and from the quiet orderly method of their procession, headed and marshalled, of course, by the clergy and manoeuvred to the sound of bells.  There is such a perpetual ringing of bells, and the trains run so frequently, that those who are not accustomed to such sights may become confused as to their true meaning.  We learn, however, from the affiches that it is all in honour of ‘Our Lady of Hope,’ that the externes from one school parade the streets