The houses in which the cantonniers live are built of rough stones, and, unlike other dwellings, are usually only one story high. They are placed at fairly regular intervals between the different villages and towns. The cantonniers lead very lonely lives, and often their only companion is a dog. Sometimes, especially in the winter, they do not see a human face for several days together. Their pay is poor, only a few shillings a week. Yet these men, like all their countrymen, are noted for their kindness and their hospitality towards strangers. They will give the weary or benighted traveller bread, cheese, wine, or any other simple food they possess. They will shelter him from sun or storm, and wish him a hearty farewell when he takes his departure, without dreaming of payment in money. In fact, they would feel insulted if money were offered them in return for their hospitality. We are not long upon the road before we meet n mule, or, rather, many mules. Horses are seldom seen in the mountains. Their place is taken by mules and donkeys. Here comes a mule heavily laden. He bears a man and a woman, to say nothing of an assortment of sacks, baskets, and pans. The woman is riding astride like the man. Now the mule, though a very hardy and useful animal, has an unusually nasty temper and an unobliging will at the back of it. He has to be humoured from time to time, and a little thing will often frighten him and send him flying like the wind. The women seem to be quite as much at home on these animals as the men, and on market-days they are seen in great numbers coming home in the evening sitting on the backs of the mules, packed round with cans and baskets, and quietly knitting as they go. If a cyclist appears, however, the women quickly jump down to the ground, and hold the head of the animal until the man a-wheel has gone by.