Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 437: Volume 17, New Series, May 15, 1852Various
History
Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 437: Volume 17, New Series, May 15, 1852
Various
Periodicals
A fine Thursday morning dawned; and as early as we could get coffee
made and taken, Batilde and I set out on our expedition, each, after
the fashion of the canton, seated on a donkey, our feet in one pannier
and a large stone to balance in the other. I took as an offering to
the hope and heir of the Talbots a toy much like what we in England
call Jack-in-a-box, but in France is termed a _Diable_, as it is
intended to represent his Satanic majesty, and alarm the lifter of the
lid by popping up a black visage. The rough roads shaded by high
hedges, white and pink with hawthorn, and the wild apple-tree blossom,
and redolent of early honeysuckle, reminded me of the secluded parts
of England; while Scotland presented itself to my mind when we left
these lanes and crossed still, rushy brooks, or dashing tiny torrents,
climbed heather braes, pursuing the yellow-hammer and large
mountain-bees as they flew on to the furze and broom-bushes, filling
the air with their cheerful music; or when, again, we descended to
birch-shaded hollows, refreshing ourselves from clear little
spring-wells, that sparkled over white pebbles at the foot of a gray
rock tufted over with blaeberry and foxglove leaves. The poor thing
chatted away like a child, inspired by the pure air, bracing, yet
mild, and lost herself amongst recollections of her country home,
talking of buttercups, hedge-sparrows' eggs, and _demoiselles_ or
dragon-flies.
Several happy hours we spent _en route_; and at last, on turning down
from a hilly road, we saw on a flat brown plain a collection of low
cottages. The nearer we approached, the more Scotch everything
appeared; in some cases I even saw my dear native 'middens afore the
door:' the aspect of the houses and looks of the old women especially,
with their stoups and country caps--so very like mutches--striped
petticoats and short-gowns, brought northern climes before me vividly;
and the children stared and shouted like true Scots callants. The very
accent was so Scotch that I felt as though I was doing something
altogether ridiculous in talking French.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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