' Of the quantity of cider and absinthe consumed
in one day, the holiday-makers may have rather a confused and careless
recollection, as they are jogged home, thirteen deep in a long cart,
with a neglected, footsore old horse, weighed down with his clumsy
harness and his creaking load, and deafened by the jingling of his rusty
bells.
But if we happen to be in one of the larger towns during the time of the
Imperial fetes (the 15th of August), or at a seaport on the occasion of
the annual procession in honour of the Virgin, we shall see a more
striking ceremony still. The processions are very characteristic, with
the long lines of fisherwomen in their scarlet and coloured dresses, and
handkerchiefs tied round the head; the fishermen, old and
weather-beaten, boys in semi-naval costume, neat and trim; and perhaps a
hundred little children, dressed in blue and white. A dense mass of
people crowding through the hot streets all day, impressive from their
numbers, and from the quiet orderly method of their procession, headed
and marshalled, of course, by the clergy and manoeuvred to the sound
of bells. There is such a perpetual ringing of bells, and the trains run
so frequently, that those who are not accustomed to such sights may
become confused as to their true meaning. We learn, however, from the
_affiches_ that it is all in honour of 'Our Lady of Hope,' that the
_externes_ from one school parade the streets to-day, wearing wreaths
and carrying banners and crowns of flowers; that others bear aloft the
'cipher of Mary,' the banner of the Immaculate Conception, baskets of
roses, oriflammes, &c.
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