The cellar was often on the opposite side of the road, in front of or behind the houses, looking like an ice-house with us, with a lattice door for summer. The very few mechanics whom we met had an old-Bettyish look, in their aprons and bonnets rouges, like foolse caps. The men wore commonly the same bonnet rouge, or red woollen, or worsted cap, or sometimes blue or gray, looking to us as if they had got up with their night-caps on, and in fact, I afterwards found that they had. Their clothes were of the cloth of the country, aetoffe du pays, gray or some other plain color. The women looked stout, with gowns that stood out stiffly, also, for the most part, apparently of some home-made stuff. We also saw some specimens of the more characteristic winter dress of the Canadian, and I have since frequently detected him in New England by his coarse gray home-spun capote and picturesque red sash, and his well furred cap, made to protect his ears against the severity of his climate.

It drizzled all day, so that the roads did not improve. We began now to meet with wooden crosses frequently, by the road- side, about a dozen feet high, often old and toppling down, sometimes standing on a square wooden platform, sometimes in a pile of stones, with a little niche containing a picture of the virgin and child, or of Christ alone, sometimes with a string of beads, and covered with a piece of glass to keep out the rain, with the words, pour la vierge, or INRI, on them. Frequently, on the cross-bar, there would be quite a collection of symbolical knick-knacks, looking like an Italianes board; the representation in wood of a hand, a hammer, spikes, pincers, a flask of vinegar, a ladder, the whole perchance surmounted by a weathercock; but I could not look at an honest weather-cock in this walk, without mistrusting that there was some covert reference in it to St. Peter. From time to time we passed a little one story chapel-like building, with a tin-roofed spire, a shrine, perhaps it would be called, close to the path-side, with a lattice door, through which we could see an altar, and pictures about the walls; equally open, through rain and shine, though there was no getting into it. At these places the inhabitants kneeled and perhaps breathed a short prayer. We saw one school-house in our walk, and listened to the sounds which issued from it; but it appeared like a place where the process, not of enlightening, but of obfuscating the mind was going on, and the pupils received only so much light as could penetrate the shadow of the Catholic church. The churches were very picturesque, and their interior much more showy than the dwelling houses promised. They were of stone, for it was ordered in 1699, that that should be their material. They had tinned spires, and quaint ornaments. That of leAnge Gardien had a dial on it, with the middle age Roman numerals on its face, and some images in niches on the outside. Probably its counterpart has existed in Normandy for a thousand years. At the church of Chateau Richer, which is the next parish to leAnge Gardien, we read, looking over the wall, the inscriptions in the adjacent church-yard, which began with, " Ici git" or " repos"e, and one over a boy contained, " Priez pour lui." This answered as well as Pagere la Chaise. We knocked at the door of the curaees house here, when a sleek friar-like personage, in his sacerdotal robe appeared. To our Parlez-vous Anglais? even he answered, " Non, Monsieur;" but at last we made him understand what we wanted. It was to find the ruins of the old chfateau.