Both of my companions were strong in their French sympathies--the one because under the new rule all communal affairs were so much better organised, the other because a wonderful change for the better had taken place in the government superintendence of schools.

Theirs was formerly an odd corner of a kingdom that did not care much about them, and was not homogeneous; it was now an integral part of a well-ordered empire.

They confessed that the present state of things cost them much more in taxes, &c., excepting in the upper mountains, where Rosset had a cousin who paid even less than under Sardinian rule.
Of course, we talked a little on Church questions; and they were astonished to hear that I was not only an ecclesiastic, but an ordained priest,--a sort of thing which they had fancied did not exist in the English Church.

Rosset said the _cures_ of small communes had about L40 a year, but I must have more than that, or I could not afford to travel so far from home.

Had I already said the mass that morning?
Had I my robes in the _sac_ I had left at the _Mairie_?
Was the red book they had seen in my hands (Baedeker's _Schweiz_) a Breviary?
They branched off to matters of doctrine, and discussed them warmly; but some things they so accommodatingly understated, and others they stated so fairly, that I was able to tell them they were excellent Anglicans.
Higher up in the forest, we were nearly overwhelmed by a party of charcoal-porters, who came down with their _traineaux_ like a black avalanche.