As we passed down the village street, we passed another little procession; two acolytes in blue cassocks and caps, bearing in their hands the vessels of sacred oil, a priest following them in biretta, surplice and cassock, and by his side a server. I noticed that each man's cap was instantly lifted reverently, as it passed him. As they turned in at a cottage, the whole street down which they had passed seemed full of the lingering fragrance of the incense carried by the acolytes. Arcachon, at one time, must have been exceedingly quaint and picturesque, but since then an alien influence has been introduced which has--for all artistic purposes--spoilt it. Facing the chief street--dominating it, as it were--is the Casino; an ugly, flashy, vulgar building, out of keeping structurally with everything near it. It resembles an Indian pagoda, and when we were there in November its huge, bleary eyes were shut as it took its yearly slumber, deserted by Fashion. It was like an enormous pimple on the quiet, picturesque, unpretending countenance of this village of the Landes which had been subjected to its obsession, and that of the two hotels in immediate attendance. The people, however, appear unspoilt and unsophisticated. At each cottage door sit the women knitting; and, as one passes, they pass the time of day, or make some remark or other, with a pleasant smile. When we were at Arcachon telegraph poles were being put up. The method of setting up these eminences was distinctly curious, to the English eye. There was an immense amount of propping up, and many anxious glances bestowed on the poles before anything could be accomplished. The men on whom this tremendous labour devolves have to wear curious iron clasps strapped on to their boots, so that they should be able to dig into the bark as they swarm up the poles for the poles are just trunks of pine trees stripped of their branches, and many of them look very crooked. * * * * * In many of the gardens poinsettias were flowering, and hanging clusters of a vivid red flower which our hotel proprietress called "Songe de Cardinal." It was the same tint of scarlet as the berries called "Archutus" or "Arbousses," which grow here in abundance by the side of the road on bushes, and are like a large variety of raspberry, a cross between that and a strawberry. It has a very pleasant flavour when eaten with cream: this our waiter confided to me, and, after tasting the mixture, I quite agreed with him, although the proprietress had treated the idea with scorn. In November the roads, in places, are red with the fallen fruit of this plant. There are also curious long brown seed cases which had dropped from trees something like acacias, but which have a smaller leaf than our English variety. The tint of the pods is a warm reddish brown; they are about the length of one's forearm, the inner edges all sticky with resin.