It is well known that ladies as a rule are wont to travel with numerous small parcels, and there was no exception in our party to this rule, while Mr. Sydney and myself were not without impedimenta as well.  In all, there were about a dozen—­to put a familiar figure—­too small or too fragile to share the dangers of the luggage-van.  These, three respective porters promised to bring to the train, but as every porter broke his word, they remained in statu quo.  And we may here remark how noticeable it is, that whereas English porters are always on the alert to earn a few coppers, their French representatives will rarely if ever help with anything but the registered luggage (which of course is in the company’s charge), while a higher official, such as you would never ask in England, will occasionally assist—­if desired to do so with politeness—­but only occasionally.  It is evident that the French Government reduce the staff to the narrowest limits, and do not intend porters to help in transporting any luggage but that which has been paid for in registration; and on the same principle as armies are organised in South America, for every “porter” there will be two or three superintendents.

To resume.—­This perfidy of the porters placed us in a very unenviable position; the train was due to start, the ladies were in the carriage, but the luggage was in a pile at the other side of the station, and Mr. Sydney, thinking all was well, had followed the ladies.  I was requested to do likewise, as the train was off; but instead of so doing, launched such a tirade at the head of every official within reach, that they kept the train waiting to return it; at last, seeing I was obdurate, at least half a dozen rushed to the offending pile, collared the various items, and bore them towards our compartment.  As the first instalment arrived I got up, and the train started.  The rest of the laden officials were ranged a few yards apart, and as our carriage passed, the packages and cloaks were thrown in.  The scene they presented when the door was first shut was unique, but very deplorable, and it required the whole of the journey of four and a half hours to Pau, to calm our troubled minds, cool our heated frames, and make us look with equanimity on our experience.  It would require years to efface the opinion formed on “French railway station” management; so in that we followed a method often pursued by schoolboys in early life, over the “Pons asinorum,” and gave it up.

CHAPTER XII.

EAUX BONNES AND EAUX CHAUDES.

Carriage v. diligence—­Early birds—­Height of absurdity—­Diminutive donkeys—­A whitened region—­“Crystal clear”—­Washerwomen and their gamps—­A useful town-hall—­A halfway house—­Moralising—­A much-loved pipe—­An historic ruin—­A noteworthy strong box—­“Ici on rase”—­Where are the bears?—­Women in gaiters—­Picturesque costumes—­A lovely road—­A “perfect”