They wanted the rats driven away from the grain in their barns, so there were prayers, exorcisms, and processions in honor of St. Nicaise;--all this on a bitter day in December, with snow up to my neck; I have had lumbago ever since. Then caterpillars attacked them, and we had more processions, this time addressed to St. Gertrude, in a March storm with melting sleet;--a racking cough for me was the result. Now we have the locusts, and they want another procession round the orchards; think of it! with the sun like a furnace, and black clouds rolling up before a thunderstorm. I should come back with a rush of blood to the head, chanting the verse ‘Ibi ceciderunt, workers of iniquity, atque expulsi sunt!’ but it is I who would be cast out,--(‘Sacred to the memory of Baptiste Chamaille, commonly called Dulcis, vicar of this parish.’)--No! I am in no hurry to quit this world, and the best of jokes may be carried too far. It is no business of mine to get rid of their caterpillars, and as for their locusts, the lazy-bones can drive them off with their own hands. Help yourself and others will help you! It would be really too comfortable for them to sit down and let me do all the work. No, I will do my duty to the Lord, and let them do likewise. They can besiege me here if they choose. It would not bother me in the least, and I tell you, my friends, that they could raise this house from the ground easier than they could make me move out of this armchair. So now let’s have another bottle.” Having come to the end of his breath and his eloquence, he took a long drink and we followed his example, looking through our glasses at the world and our future which appeared rosy enough. Then there was silence for a few moments.--Each had his own special way of drinking, Paillard smacked his lips, looked at his glass inside and out, held it up to the light, tasted the wine and swallowed it down little by little, taking it in through his nose and his eyes as much as by his palate. Chamaille threw the wine into his big throat at one gulp. “Ha!” he would say as he felt it going down, rolling up his eyes to Heaven. As for me, I enjoyed both drink and drinkers; the more I looked at them the happier I felt. What can be more delightful than to taste two pleasures at once? All the same the bottle did not stand still with me. Not one of the three was behind the others, but would you believe it? at the end of the race the old notary was first by a good bumper. Our souls seemed to dilate under this refreshing dew, which moistened our throats and brightened up our wits and our faces. We leaned out of the open window, touched and charmed at the sight of the fields in their fresh spring dress, the young poplar shoots opening under the soft sunshine, the Yonne down in the valley twisting and turning through the meadows, like a playful puppy. We could hear the gay voices of women as they beat their linen on the stones, and the ducks quacking among the reeds.