"What have I said?--I cannot choose, Nor would I seek to have the will; How can I when my soul I lose In thought and sleepless visions still, Yet cannot from her presence fly, Altho' to linger is to die." [Footnote 17: See "A Summer amongst the Bocages and the Vines," vol. ii. chap. i. page 15.] We were seated in the cabin of the steam-boat, resigning ourselves to patience until Agen should be reached--for it was now dark, and a shower had fallen which made the decks wet--when we were summoned to brave all by the promise of a treat above. We had observed, in the course of the day, a party of young women, each wrapped in a large black cloak, the pointed hood of which was either drawn over the head or allowed to fall behind, showing the singular square cap, which at once told they were Rochellaises. They were at the opposite end of the long vessel; and, as some were below, we had no idea that they mustered so large a party, for it appeared that there were no fewer than twenty-one, all from La Tremblade, or the other islands in the neighbourhood of La Rochelle. They were taking their usual autumn voyage up the Garonne, and, from Agen, were destined to various towns as far as the Pyrenees, where they remain all the oyster season, receiving, by the boat, twice a week, a consignment of oysters to be disposed of, on the spot where their residence is fixed. They were generally young, some extremely so, and very well conducted; sitting together in groups, and talking in an under tone; but, at this hour of the evening, they all congregated on deck, and were singing some of their songs as the boat went rapidly on, and the soft breeze caught up their notes.