Our Little French Cousin

by Blanche McManus

The children at once began to make themselves at home in their new surroundings. "Did you ever see anything nicer?" said Germaine, as she dragged Marie into the little house under the big tiller, where the bargeman and his wife lived.

"Does it not look like a doll's house?" said Marie, as they went down the ladder into the tiny living room. Everything was as neat as could be, and painted white, with lace curtains at each of the small windows.

It was wonderful how much could be stowed away inside, and yet leave plenty of room. A sewing-machine stood in one corner; a bird-cage was hanging in the window, and a little stove, a table to dine on, and a couple of chairs completed the arrangements, save the pictures on the walls, the china in a neat little cupboard, and the beds which were built like shelves, one above the other, to allow all the floor space possible. On deck, one side of the house was given up to a shelf full of gay flowers in pots, and vines were trained up against the side of the house. There was also on deck a chest to hold the meat and vegetables, so as to keep them cool and fresh, and a small cask was made into a house for the dog. Every barge has its dog and cat, which usually get on together very well, considering their crowded quarters. Everything about the house end of the barge was painted white with green trimmings, and all was very clean and neat.

Jean then came up to tell them that he had found out that every barge in the tow belonged to a different owner. This he had learned from the gaudy colours with which they were decorated. "You will see," said he, "that ours has a big white triangle with a smaller red triangle inside of that painted on the bow. The one next to us has a broad red band with two white circles, and there is another yellow with two big blue stars on either side. These are the distinguishing marks of the different companies to which they belong."

They were now leaving behind them the great high cliffs of white chalk that shine like snow, through which the river runs almost all the way from Mantes to Rouen. Just here it wound through rich green meadows. Along the water's edge were clumps of willow-trees, whose long, pliable twigs are used by the country people to weave baskets. They trim off the branches, but leave the tree standing for more branches to grow, and so they never use up their basket material. The French take very good care of their trees, and when they cut one down, always plant another in its place.

Often the barge passed other long tows, whose barge-people would shout greetings across to them. For most bargees are acquainted, at least by sight, and the dogs would bark "How do you do's" as well. Great coal barges from Belgium passed, having come laden many hundreds of miles across France; and others with hogsheads of wine from the south, which have been brought by sea to Rouen.

A merry dinner was served on a table on deck under an awning. The wife of the bargeman had cooked a good meal on the little stove which stood on one of the hatches right out in the open. They had a favourite country soup first, beef and cabbage soup with a crust of bread in it. (French soups are usually called potage, though the real country soup is often known by the name we call it ourselves—soupe.) Then there was a crisp green salad, big jugs of Normandy cider, which is a beautiful golden colour, blanquette de veau, which is veal with a nice white egg sauce over it. Lapin garnne followed, which is nothing more than stewed rabbit, and a dish of which all French people are very fond, and have nearly every day when it is in season. Fresh Normandy cream cheese and cherries and little cakes finished the meal, with the usual coffee and calvados for the older people.

"We will soon see Pont de l'Arche," said the bargeman, and they had barely finished dinner when the picturesque church of the town was seen rising above the trees.