I was glad that this little procession here kept so much of its old-time
character, but I was sorry it was not gayer. Still, it was so
picturesque that it made me regret anew, what I have so many times
regretted of late years, that so many of the old habits of country life
in France are passing away, as they are, for that matter, all over
Europe, along with ignorance and national costumes.
I must tell you that up to three years ago it was the custom in this
commune, which, simply because it is not on a railroad, has preserved
its old-days air and habits, for wedding and baptismal parties to walk
in procession through the streets from the house to the church and back
again. Pere Abelard used to head the procession, playing on his violin.
There has been but one event of that kind since I came, and I am afraid
it will be the last. That was for the baptism of the first grandchild
of a French officer who had married a woman born in this commune, and
the older members of the family had a desire to keep up the old
traditions. The church is at Quincy, just a step off the route
nationale to Meaux. Pere walked ahead,--he could not be accused of
marching,--fiddling away for dear life.
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