eatable and drinkable; monsieur the curé is
already seated at the wedding table, with chairs
for bride and bridegroom on either side of him.
The exhausted but still noisy dancers flock
eagerly about the board; it is amazing to see
what wonderful morning appetites they have,
and how soon the mass of good things
disappears. Monsieur le Curé, under the influence
of the punch and wine, grows astonishingly
funny, is extremely gallant and attentive
to the bride, and pledges everybody, even me
the stranger guest. Then comes a loud noisy
song, under the inspiration of which the dancers
resume their places on the sward. This time it
is another, and very different dance; you would
think that, after the wine, it would be a wilder
one than the first; no, it is a sedate movement,
the faces of the dancers according with
it. They separate into couples, and dance in
a sort of procession, one behind the other; it
is not unlike the fine old minute in Don
Giovanni, only it has a rustic spice to it wanting
in the stately aristocratic dance of our
grandfathers. All day long alternate dancing,
feasting, and singing is kept up, and still the
marriage ceremonies are hardly begun.

The company separated a little before
sundown, to unite again in front of the church
soon after the grey light of twilight had
thickened to darkness. The tents which had
been erected were illuminated by a hundred
waxen candles—and waxen candles, even in
the chateaux of noblemen, are aristocratic in
Britany. Within the tents were long tables,
bounteously laden; without, large fires had
been made, and there was every variety of
cooking pot, and pitcher, and grill, and saucepan.
The tent was, of course, that of the
bridal party; and here, among others, were
the curé, the doctor, the apothecary, the tailor,
the postmaster, and myself. At the upper end
of the tent was a little rudely constructed daïs,
where the beaming Nannine sat; around her
were gathered the favoured few, her intimates.
Opposite, was the good fat curé, supported on
either hand by a buxom rustic dame. When
we had all taken our places at the festive
board, I looked about for the bridegroom,
Jacques, but could see him nowhere;
presently, however, the reason was apparent. It
is, on the occasion of " La Table de la Mariée,"
or " Bridal Feast," the custom that certain of
the young men should act as butlers and cooks;
these offices are assumed by the relatives and
near friends of the bridegroom, and are posts
of honour. The bridegroom himself performs
the double function of chief cook and head
butler; he himself is forbidden, by the law
of tradition, to take a drop or morsel that
night; it is his business to superintend the
dishes intended for the bride, and to serve
them up before her. So presently in he came
with a huge platter, on which lay, in bounteous
sauce, a portly turbot; this he deposited before
the bride, who rose and bowed with smiling
solemnity. Whereupon Monsieur le Curé
sprang to his feet, and raising high his glass of
brandy punch, called out, " To the bride!"
A summons which no one refused, and which
was responded to by a tumultuous jingling of
glasses, tossing off of punch, and clapping of
feet. It was an improvement on our Anglo-
Saxon civilisation, that no speeches were made.
But what an orgy succeeded! How shall I
describe the noise, and the dancing, and the
tipsy songs, and the rude lusty games: not
to speak of the promiscuous hugging and kissing,
and chasing and fondling which that never-
to-be-forgotten scene presented? Of all the
gallant company, dawn found the bridegroom,
and him alone, sober. The demure and solemn
tailor, though an unusually modest man, was
painfully boastful of his share in bringing about
the present occasion; Monsieur le Curé was now
too sombre and dignified by half; and as for
Jacques's steady papa and his familiars, the
doctor, and the apothecary, and even mine
host, they had, long before dawn, disappeared
beneath the table, and were being slowly
sobered, as morning came, by a bath of dew.
The womankind had retired in high spirits; all
except the bride, whom custom doomed to sit
there on her daïs, bolt upright amid the revel,
until the first rays of the rising sun should slant
into the tent. Jacques had most certainly the
worst of the fun. It was his task to carry the
jaded roysterers home; and this he did with
admirable patience and perseverance. But his
reward, the taking home of his pretty spouse,
was not even yet earned. The bride must, by
inexorable Breton tradition, go home to her
mother on the succeeding day; and the orgies
must be resumed a second, and yet a third,
evening. The second evening was like the first;
all boisterousness, singing, shouting, kissing,
and final collapsing under the table. The
third resembled the two previous evenings,
only in slang parlance, " more so;" for on
the last, winding up orgies, the shouting and
dancing were noisier, the kissing more vigorous,
and the drunkenness more general, than ever.
Jacques, now permitted to indulge with the
rest in deep potations, made up for lost time,
and was the very first to slide under the table,
where he remained until morning.

There was a curious sight on the morning
following the final evening, which was at once
a traditional custom, and a scene characteristic
of rural Britany. This was the " Beggar's
Dance." The remains of the feast, wine and
meat, were neatly set on tables in the middle
of the green; and all the beggars of the
neighbourhood were invited to partake. The
villagers gathered in a ring around the space, leaving
an opening toward the street. Presently
there issued from a little lane a most grotesque
procession. There were the halt, the blind, and
the lame—the one-legged, the one-eyed, and
the one-armed; the patriarchs and the children
of mendicancy, ragged and shoeless, with hats
crownless, and coats tailless, and gowns threadless;
hobbling, and plunging, and limping
along, with cracked songs, and yells, and the
queerest imaginable movements. Arrived on
the green they took position in couples, and
performed a singular burlesque on the wedding