Non-Fiction > Uncollected essays > Volumes 33-38, 1876-1878 - Cornhill magazine > Volume 33

552 FOEEST NOTES.
And so up you get, stretching yourself, and go your way into the
wood, the dayb'ght becoming richer and more golden, and the shadows
stretching further into the ojjen. A cool air comes along the highways,
and the scents awaken. The fir-trees breathe abroad their ozone. Out
of unknown thickets comes forth the soft, secret, aromatic odour of the
woods, not like a smell of the free heaven, but as though court
ladies, who had known these paths in ages long gone by, still walked in
the summer evenings, and shed, from their brocades, a breath of musk or
bergamot upon the woodland winds. One side of the long avenues is
still kindled with the sun, the other is plunged in transparent shadow.
Over the trees, the west begins to burn like a furnace ; and the painters
gather up their chattels, and go down, by avenue or footpath, to the
plain.
A Pleasure Party.
As this excursion is a matter of some length, and moreover we go in
force, wo have set aside our nsual vehicle, the jwny cart, and ordered a
large wagonette from Lojosne's. It has been waiting for near an hour,
while one went to pack a knapsack, and t'other hurried over his toilette
and coffee ; but now it is filled from end to end with merry folk in
summer attire, the coachman cracks his whip, and amid much applause
from round the inn door, off we rattle at a sj^anking trot. The way lies
through the forest, up hill and down dale, and by beech and pine wood,
in the cheerful morning sunshine. The English get down at all the ascents
and walk on a-head for exercise ; the French are mightily entertained at
this, and keej) coyly underneath the tilt. As we go we carry with us a
pleasant noise of laughter and light speech, and some one will be always
breaking oiit into a bar or two of opera bouffe. Before we get to the
Route Eonde here comes Desprez, the colourman from Fontainebleau,
trudging across on his weekly peddle with a case of merchandise ; and it
is, " Desprez, leave me some malachite green ; " " Desprez, leave me .so
much canvas ; " " Desprez, leave me this, or leave me that ; " M. Desprez
standing the while in the snnliglit with grave face and many salutations.
The next interruption is more important. For some time back we have
had the sound of cannon in our ears ; and now, a little past Franchard,
we find a mounted trooper holding a led horse, Avho brings the
wagonette to a stand. The artillery is practising in the Quadi'ilateral,
it appears; passage along the Route Ponde foimally interdicted for
the moment. There is nothing for it but to draw up at the glaring
cross-roads, and get down to make fun with the notorious Cocar-
don, the most ungainly and ill-bied dog of all the ungainly and ill-bred
dogs of Barbizon, or clamber about the sandy banks. And mean-
while the Doctor, with sun umbrella, wide panama, and patriarchal
beard, is busy wheedling and (for ought the rest of us know) bribing
the too facile sentry. His speech is smooth and dulcet, his manner