Women in France never take the active part in elections that they do in England. It interested me so much when we were living in England to see many of the great ladies doing all they could for their candidate, driving all over the country, with his colours on servants and horses, a big bill in the windows of their carriages with "Vote for A." on it. In the drawing-room windows of a well-known society leader there were two large bills--"VOTE FOR A." I asked W. one day, when he was standing for the Senate, if he would like me to drive all about the country with his colours and "VOTE FOR WADDINGTON" on placards in the windows of the carriage; but he utterly declined any such intervention on my part, thought a few breakfasts at the château and a quiet talk over coffee and cigars would be more to the purpose. He never took much trouble over his elections the last years--meetings and speeches in all the small towns and "banquets de pompiers" were things of the past. He said the people had seen him "à l'oeuvre" and that no speeches would change a vote. The only year that we gave ourselves any trouble was during the Boulanger craze. W. went about a great deal and I often went with him. The weather was beautiful and we rode all over the country. We were astounded at the progress "Boulangism" had made in our quiet villages. Wherever we went--in the cafés, in the auberges, in the grocer's shop--there was a picture of Boulanger prancing on his black horse. We stopped one day at a miserable little cottage, not far from our place, where a workman had had a horrible accident--been caught in the machine of one of the sugar mills. Almost all the men in the village worked in W.'s woods and had always voted--as one man--for him or his friends. When we went into the poor little dark room, with literally nothing in it but the bed, a table, and some chairs, the first thing we saw was the well-known picture of Boulanger, on the mantelpiece. We talked a little to the man and his wife (the poor fellow was suffering terribly), and then W. said, "I am surprised to see that picture. Do you know General Boulanger? Have you ever seen him?" The man's face quite lighted up as he looked at the picture, and he answered: "Non, Monsieur, je ne l'ai jamais vu--mais il est crâne celui-là," and that was all that he could ever get out of him--"il est crâne." I don't know exactly what he meant. I don't think he knew himself, but he was quite excited when he spoke of the hero. Boulanger's campaign was very cleverly done. His agents distributed papers, pictures and _money_ most liberally. One of the curious features of that episode was the quantity of money that was given. Gold flowed freely in to the General's coffers from all parts of France; great names, grandes dames, giving largely and openly to the cause--a great deal sent anonymously and a great deal in very small sums.