torrent of animal spirits into middle life.  I was only seventeen; they were from twenty to thirty years my seniors, yet I do not think that we mutually bored each other the least.  They did not need the stimulus of alcohol to aid this flow of spirits, for, like most Frenchmen of that class, they were very abstemious, although the “Patron” always produced for us “un bon vieux vin de derriere les fagots,” or “un joli petit vin qui fait rire.”  It was sheer “joie de-vivre” stimulated by the good food and that spontaneous gaiete francaise which appeals so irresistibly to me.  The “Substitut” always preserved a rather deferential attitude before the President and M. Ducros, for they belonged to the magistrature assise, whilst he merely formed part of the magistrature debout The French word magistrat is not the equivalent of our magistrate, the French term for which is “Juge de Paix.”  A magistrat means a Judge or a Public Prosecutor.

From being so much with the judges, I grew quite learned in French legal terms, talked of the parquet (which means the Bar), and invariably termed the grubby little Nyons law-court the Palais.  I rather fancy that I considered myself a sort of honorary member of the French Bar.  Strictly speaking, Palais only applies to a Court of Law; old-fashioned Frenchmen always speak of the Chateau de Versailles, or the Chateau de Fontainbleau, never of the Palais.

There was always plenty to see in these little southern towns whilst the judges were at work.  In one village there was a perfume factory, where essential oils of sweet-scented geranium, verbena, lavender, and thyme were distilled for the wholesale Paris perfumers; a fragrant place, where every operation was carried on with that minute attention to detail which the French carry into most things that they do, for, unlike the inhabitants of an adjacent island, they consider that if a thing is worth doing at all, it is worth taking trouble over.

In another village there was a wholesale dealer in silkworms’ eggs, imported direct from China.  Besides the eggs, he had a host of Chinese curios to dispose of, besides quaint little objects in everyday use in China.

Above all there was Grignan, with its huge and woefully dilapidated chateau, the home of Mme. de Sevigne’s daughter, the Comtesse de Grignan.  It was to Grignan that this queen of letter-writers addressed much of her correspondence to her adored daughter, between 1670 and 1695, and Mme. de Sevigne herself was frequently a visitor there.

Occasionally the judges, the Substitut, and I made excursions further afield by diligence to Orange, Vaucluse, and Avignon, quite outside our judicial orbit.  Orange, a drowsy little spot, has still a splendid Roman triumphal arch and a Roman theatre in the most perfect state of preservation.  Orange was once a little independent principality, and gives its name to the Royal Family of Holland, the sister of the last of the Princes of Orange having married the Count of Nassau, whence the House of Orange-Nassau.  Indirectly, sleepy little Orange has also given its name to a widely-spread political and religious organisation of some influence.