By this time Chamaille had quite recovered his good humor and began to talk as he leaned out between us. “It’s a pretty good place to live in after all; we were all three of us born here, the Lord be praised! Was there ever a sweeter, dearer country? it fairly smiles at you, it is so soft, so tender and graceful, fit to bring tears to your eyes and to make your mouth water.” We nodded our heads, and he began again.--“Our Master of course does what is right, we all know that, but why the devil did He put such disagreeable people in this heavenly place? I wish with all my heart that He would send them off somewhere to live under the Incas or the Great Mogul, anywhere but here.” “But, Chamaille,” said we, “all men are alike, you would not gain by getting rid of these.” “Well then, they must have come into this world not that I might save their souls, but to discipline mine through this earthly Purgatory. My friends, you must admit that no lot is so hard as that of a country priest who has to struggle to knock the truths of our holy religion into the thick skulls of these stupid peasants; they may take in the Catechism with their mother’s milk but it does not stay by them, for such rude natures need coarse provender. They will fill their mouths with aves and litanies, often just for the sake of hearing themselves; they will bray out vespers and complines, but the sacred words seldom get any farther than their thirsty jaws; for all the good done to their hearts and stomachs they might as well have held their tongues; pagans they were before, and pagans they remain. We have been striving for hundreds of years to drive out the gnomes and fairies from our fields, woods, and streams; but though we crack our cheeks and lungs in the effort to blow out these infernal fires, so that we can make God’s true light to shine in the black darkness of the world, we cannot prevail over these base spirits, vulgar superstitions, of the earth earthy. The people will still find some of this brood of Satan hidden in the trunks of aged oaks, or under rocking stones, though the Lord alone knows how many we have broken, thrown down, and uprooted; but to get rid of all the devils which our mother Gaul holds hidden within her, would be endless. Every sod and stone in the country would have to be overturned. The truth is, nature is always slipping through our fingers; if you clip her wings one day they grow out the next, and ten gods spring up for each one that you destroy. Our stupid peasants think everything is a god or a devil; and they believe in were-wolves, headless horses, human snakes, imps, and sorcerers. Just imagine the figure the gentle Son of Mary and Joseph must cut among all these monsters out of Noah’s ark!” “If we could only see ourselves as others see us,” said Paillard. “No doubt your people are a crazy lot, but how about you yourself? is there much to choose between you? and are your saints much better than demons and fairies? Three Gods in one was not