ALSACE-LORRAINE

By George Wharton Edwards

 “Section 9”

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Fete Days & Customs

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The feast days are perhaps best studied in the re­mote villages, because in the course of the peas­ant's hard life he has but few days of relaxation, and save for a wedding or a funeral rarely breaks away from his toil. So the Patron Saints' day is a real occasion for him to look forward to. In certain communities where the church still regulates the people's manners, it is the only day upon which dancing is permitted. Each de­partment of France apparently has a different name for this fete. In upper Alsace it is known as the "Kilbe"; in the lower as "Mestig"-or sometimes Kirb; in the north it is "Ducasse"; "Rapport" in the east; "Vogue" in Dauphiny; "Assemblee" in Touraine; "Ballade" in Poitue; "Frairie" in Saintange and Angoumois, and the "Pardon" in Brittany.

In Alsace, however, the characteristics are quite different from those obtaining elsewhere. Instead of hav­ing the dances in various drinking resorts, the young people of the remote villages elect one of their number best fitted for the position, as organizer. He is thus the "Garcon d'honneur" of the fete. As distinctive sign of his position, he wears a cloak heavily embroidered in gold

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lace. To him falls the task of designing the festivities and selecting the field where the dancing platform is erected. This is generally as near as possible to the local inn or auberge.

In the remote towns on the day of the fete, a cortege preceded by the local band of musicians, clad in their archaic costumes, and bearing at the head the banner of the association, all decked with flowers and ribbons, upon which are fastened the various medals and prizes which it has won, marches proudly to the house of the mayor, who receives the marchers in his official sash of honor and proclaims the fete open.

The organizer then presents a bouquet with one hand, and a bottle of wine with the other, to M. the Mayor. Then, turning, he offers his little finger to the prettiest girl, generally selected beforehand, and leading her at the head of the procession, formed of both sexes, to the dancing platform, opens the festivities. In some localities a ribbon-decked Iamb, led by the prettiest girl, precedes the cortege, and this poor little lambkin is then killed somewhere out of sight, and dressed for the great banquet to take place the following day.

This procession stops before the door of each of the local magistrates or authorities, the "garcon d'honneur" offering to each a portion of the great spice cake, which is all covered with icing and colored ribbons; receives from each a gift in return, (generally a small sum of money to

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defray expenses), and the fete proceeds. In certain of the villages, a masked figure, grotesquely costumed, is led in chains, by companions who take up a collection from the peasants as he passes along the streets. One we saw led to the village fountain, and there pitched neck and heels into the basin amid the wildest shrieks and cries from the crowd, who seemed infuriated at the sight. But when the creature was drawn out, and his soaked rags were stripped from him, he was given the money which had been collected, and promptly disappeared from sight. This evidently is a very old custom, the origin of which is lost, for no one could satisfactorily explain to us what it was all about. The willing subject of this strange attack, I afterwards discovered, was a respectable young farmer who lived in the neighborhood.

The festivities continued throughout the day in a banquet in the "auberge," and a bonfire at night, around which the peasants danced hand in hand, after which they departed to their different homes. It was most amusing to watch the preparations for this particular celebration. The inn at which we stopped was the center of activities. In all the houses about the little square the housekeepers were busy in the kitchens, with arms bare to elbow, faces dusted with flour, kneading and pulling dough and forming all kinds of dainties. Over all was a most appetizing odor of baking pastry from blazing ovens. The night before arrived the jugglers and

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tumblers, and the huge vans of the itinerant merchants, who at once began to set up their stalls and booths in the spaces allotted to them by the watchful gendarme. At dawn the church bell rang loudly, calling the people to early mass. The young men soon appeared in the square, all freshly shaven, clad in all the unwonted finery of white linen shirt and stiff blouse. Behind the drawn curtain the young girls are arranging themselves before the mirrors in all their best, silk fichus and stiff standing­out headdresses of heavy black Alsatian silk called "noeuds." Very proudly they stand when they come forth, all in their wide stiff skirts, and heavy creaking shoes.

All go to the church on this day of high mass. It is crowded with the people, who are most devout, and the late ones who are unable to enter congregate on the steps. The service seems very long to the younger ones,  who plainly are nervous and excited, and when at last the final prayer is said by the priest, they hasten away to "The Place" or square, where the musicians are already gathered, tuning up their shining brass instruments. Here also are the corps of "Pompiers," as the firemen are called, clad in quaint metal breastplates, and huge helmets with long horse hair plumes. The rest of the costume is most ludicrously ordinary, dwindling away from the splendor of the plumed helmet and shining breast­plate, to patched corduroy trousers and hobnailed shoes.

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But of these discrepancies they seem quite unconscious.

Early in the day the booths have been erected, each in the place allotted to the merchant. They contain everything calculated to tempt the peasant to spend his or her hard-earned coin. The young girls, with shining eyes, surround the pitiful display of caps and ribbons, cheap lace and gaudy skirts, eager to possess such treasures fresh from the great city. At one side is a fortune-teller, before whose tent a small darky, clad in oriental turban, parades ostentatiously, carrying a large green cockatoo on his outstretched wrist. At the other is a long scarlet wagon with a skylight, before which a hoarse-voiced Hebraic-looking man, wearing flashy jewelry, calls upon the peasants to "step up, pay up, and see the only living mermaid in captivity," which turns out to be a trained seal, and which certainly does its tricks with great intelligence and evident enjoyment. There is also an itinerant photographer, who for only one mark gives not only two likenesses "guaranteed," but a "gold" frame for one of them.

Loud beating of a large bass drum draws a crowd about a highly-varnished carriage, drawn by four large black horses with long manes and tails most beautifully groomed, and with oiled hoofs. The occupant, standing up on the seat, is calling for "amateurs" who wish to have their teeth drawn, "with no charge for the first one," whatever he means by that. Crowds of excited children

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dart hither among the people, eager to see it all at once. Older ones walk about cautiously clinking their coins together, trying to decide upon a purchase. Over all is the smell of hot fat from the waffle booth, where, over a hot coal fire, a fat, bare-armed woman is cooking the sweet dainties so beloved by the peasantry all over Europe. The inn and the small shops are full to overflowing with eating and drinking men and women. There is the raucous sound of a barrel organ, accompanied by loud singing, and from the open doors of the houses come servants carrying bottles and jugs to and fro. Amid shouts of laughter one hears glasses jingle and heavy hands pounding on the tables. The costumes are brilliant in color and unusual.

The women, young and old, wear the huge bow of black ribbon ("noeud Alsatian") on their heads. Occasionally, however, in some of the groups the ribbons will be of red or plaid, or even ornamented with large, bright flowers. The skirts are varied in color, some of striped purple, others in quaint squares or checks. The waists or bodices are most lavishly embroidered in bright colors, and the collars are often of very fine and valuable lace. The size of the headdress varies with the locality. For instance, those of Oberseebach and Hoffen are quite small and generally of dark red silk. The cut of the skirt is also different. It would take a whole chapter to describe in detail the variety of costumes of the provinces.

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I am informed that there are at least fifty different styles in existence, but that since the invasion of the provinces the peasants have refrained from wearing many of them, out of contempt for the Germans. The ancient costumes are almost extinct in the lower Rhine region from Sainte Odile to the Palatinate frontier. In the towns of the Upper Rhine, they are now rarely seen save at Metzeral, and in the Fecht valley, at Sundernach near ltlunster. In the Vosges, and the Sundgau, the more conservative of the peasantry still wear the distinctive "noeuds," but to see them as they were formerly worn one must seek them on fete days or Sundays. Usually the costumes differ but little from those worn elsewhere in France.

One of the greatest fete days is that of Belfort, sometimes called and spelled "Befort," a town and fortress of the first class on the river Savoreuse, a place of the greatest military importance commanding the famous passage between the Vosges and the Jura, called the gap of Belfort. The town is an ancient one, having been founded in the eleventh century, although but little evidence of this antiquity is now to be seen. The house of Burgundy acquired it in marriage in the fourteenth century, and it then passed on successively to those of Ferrette and Austria. It was taken by the Swedes in 1632, and by the French in 1636 and 1648. In 1814 it successfully resisted the Allies, and also the siege by the

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Germans in 1870-71, which lasted from November, 1870, to February, 1871, and capitulated with the honors of war only upon conclusion of an armistice and under orders from the French government. The old town is on the left bank of the river and commanded by a most imposing looking citadel upon the lofty summit of a rock, said to be more than 200 feet high. Before it is the colossal statue of the Lion of Belfart, the work of Bartholdi. Beyond the Porte de Brisach is a hollow, where there is an immense entrenchment, in which, it is said, twenty thousand men can be encamped. Through it passes the high road to Strassburg. Beyond this is the famous Fort de la Miotte, with its tower, which is considered the very Palladium of Belfort, a sacred heritage. This tower, it is said, was almost entirely destroyed during the Franco-Prussian war, but has since been reconstructed. Here each year come conscripts and their families by the thousands, who venerate the sacred object, which is a small stone from the original tower set in the wall. Among these simple country people, strangely enough, there seems to be no fear of death. We found that one thought alone horrifies and gives them anxiety; that is the fear of Hell, and the terror of encountering the ghosts of those who die unrepentant and without having confessed to the priest. In the remote villages of the Vosges, as soon as a peasant is judged to be on his or her deathbed, he or she is at once arranged for the final mo­

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ment, even though the end is a day or so distant. The neighbors are notified, and the house is open to all, whether day or night. Thither the neighbors come to pay their respects and condole with the family. All visit the bed where the poor creature lingers, already regarded as having gone beyond the pale. A basin displayed upon a white towel contains holy water, and in this is a green branch, which is used by all to sprinkle the bed on which the sick peasant is lying on his back, his hands already crossed upon his breast. In and out of the room passes the procession of people, who are moved often as much by curiosity as interest. It is most pathetic, not to say uncanny. After the end comes, the deceased is attended by a watch formed of the relatives and certain aged women, who make a sort of profession of waiting with the corpse. Our driver informed us that they take turns in watching during the night, "driving away evil spirits, drinking much hot wine and spices in the intervals of exorcism, and that they compose poems in eulogy of the dead." We imagined these services to be somewhat like the Irish wakes, or the Corsican "Voceri." The driver repeated some of the exclamations, which were: "Ah, the poor man, why did he die? - and so early too, and he not yet forty!  Ah, that I should have to cry at his funeral - Sainted Marie!" - and so on. He told us that, as a usual thing, the coffined body is

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borne to the church on a bier; but if that of a young girl, her companions always carry her body, and they are always veiled and clad in pure white, and that a lighted taper is carried before the procession by her nearest and dearest friend. In the case of a youth or a man, the friends always walk on foot in procession, all wearing bands of crepe on their arms and hats. The men and women walk separately. After the burial, all the friends and neighbors are invited to the bereaved home for a feast, known as the "obit," for the peasants are great eaters and drinkers. This feast begins in great solemnity, but as it progresses and the bottles are emptied, the talk grows louder and louder, until the oldest friend of the deceased rises and eulogises him, and then all join in intoning a sort of a "de profundis." Then after a collection is taken up for the poor, the ceremony is over.

The peasants regard unfailingly all anniversaries, and do not fail to see that mass is said by the priest for the repose of the soul of the departed. All Saints day is, however, particularly the day upon which the villagers visit the cemetery to pay homage to their dead, and the scene of the green mounds surrounded by kneeling women and men in the shadow of the creamy white walls of the village church is very moving. The peasants bring green branches, which are blessed on Palm Sunday, and decorate the graves. These are, in some places, called "Pagnottes," and remain through the year into the

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winter, until the white mantle of snow has covered all from sight.

One of the curious observances is the Choral Fete du Dimanche, held in the neighborhood of Strassburg, and on the Palatinat frontier, when bands of young girls congregate in the localities in large numbers in the evening after vespers, and, hand in hand, parade the streets of the villages, singing the quaint and often very musical folk songs of ancient Alsace. Nothing more exquisite can be imagined than the sweet voices of these young girls sounding among the thick trees. The songs are adorable in their sentiment. However, I am told that since the enforcement of the hated "Wacht am Rhein" at all concerts and gatherings, the custom has gradually ceased.

Another strange custom is that called the "Assemblee," where the proprietors and farmers meet to hire young maids, shepherds and laborers to work on the farms. Sometimes these occasions are called "louees," and take place during the day in the public square, or even out in the open fields outside of the towns. The young girls or fellows who wish work wear branches of leaves at their waists, or in their hats. A green branch thus announces, "Hire me, please, I am stout, able and strong, and I pledge myself and my labor faithfully to you for one year at the price of fifty francs, my clothes, and good food to eat."

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The farmers in search of labor stop at the inn, which is decorated with branches of pine or juniper, and always the bargain is concluded over a bottle of wine. The agreement signed on both sides - it is always in writing and minutely worded - the retainer of five francs paid, back go the boys and girls to the dancing. The hurdy­gurdy squeals and groans and snuffles, the archaic bag­pipe drones, and over all is heard the voice of the dance leader calling out hoarsely the figures of the "quadrille." How the skirts fly about as the strong-armed peasant boys swing their flushed-faced partners! How anxious they all are for a day or so of pleasure before they begin their year of hard, grinding toil - early morn to dark, and then, after a bowl of soup and a thick crust with half a bottle of thin wine, they tumble into their straw for the few hours' rest allowed them. What wonder that they drink to excess on this their day of freedom, in forgetfulness of all that lies before them!

This sort of gathering may be studied at Bouxwiller, a most charming and delightful little town in the neighborhood of Saverne. It was at this place that the Alsatian painter, Marechal, made many of the studies for his pictures. In Alsace, we are told, when two young people have been attracted to each other and exchanged vows, they present themselves before their parents dutifully and ask their authority. As a rule this authority is rarely withheld, and the couple are henceforth permitted

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to go and come as they will, to attend fetes at distant towns together, and even to stop at inns for days at a time without any sort of restraint or scandal. Their faith is plighted, and that is enough. This is similar to the Dutch custom. A few days before the wedding they appear before the town notary and sign the civil wedding contract.

Sometimes, in certain localities, the young girl is then expected to disappear coyly and hide herself away in some corner of the house. All the parties then join gaily in the search for her, and it may be said that, as a rule, she is not hard to find. Then she is forcibly carried before the notary, and by certain promises and the payment of a silver present by the prospective groom, she finally, amid shrieks of laughter and somewhat free jokes, consents to add her signature to the contract, which is then duly stamped by the notary and delivered into the hands of the young girl, or her parents or guardian, as the case may be. A great dinner is then given by the parents, sometimes in the "Salle des Noces" at the inn, and there are merry or tearful speeches by those who feel so moved, and everyone eats and drinks immoderately to the health of the young couple, who sit at the head of the long table, holding hands and beaming upon each other and all the world besides. At the end of the dinner, which lasts for hours, shots are heard outside, and immediately, amid great shouts and applause, two or three

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young fellows in uniform, conscripts of the year, burst in upon them. One of these presents a huge bouquet of flowers to the fiancee, with a humorous verse suited to the occasion. The others then come forward and recite in unison a poem of more or less freedom, calling down blessings upon the pair. These compliments concluded, the young pair present the three well-wishers with a sum of money in silver, called the "trumbolle," which later on is spent at the inn in celebration.

Elsewhere upon the day of marriage the groom and his groomsmen, all dressed in their best, parade the streets in a carriage, all decked with flowers and ribbons, delivering the invitations to the wedding. A pistol shot fired outside the house announces their arrival. The groom then invites the inmates, with a well-turned compliment, takes a glass of wine, and passes on to the next house. As the invitations are many in a wedding of this sort, it is perhaps needless to comment upon the condition of the groom and his cohort of honor before they finish their task. The day before the ceremony the furniture and belongings of the couple are transported with great ceremony in one or two large wagons to their future home. The wagons are drawn by as many horses as the groom can afford, and both wagon and horses are most lavishly decorated with ribbons and wreaths of flowers. The first wagon is driven by the groom him

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self, and contains the nuptial couch, all set up and dressed with fine linen and embroidery. The next contains the chairs, wardrobe and pots and pans of iron and bright new copper. In the last wagon is the cradle, all hung with ribbons and wreaths, and two or three young girIs all in the glory of the costume of the village. Should the procession have to pass through any neighboring village street, the cortege is held up by the boys and girls, and the groom is forced to pay a small ransom for permission to proceed.

On the wedding day, the invited guests march to the house, carrying personally the wedding gifts. A loud peal from the church bell announces the presence at the church of the groom and his family. At the second stroke of the bell the best man, accompanied by the maid of honor, goes to the presbytery and presents to the priest or clergyman the so-called "Soupe Nuptial," contained in a small tureen, together with a trencher of roast meat. The best man also offers in turn a bottle of old wine, garlanded with flowers, and a slice of bread.

The ceremony then commences. When the happy pair emerge from the bride's house they are greeted by shots from fowling pieces, and loud shouts of welcome from the crowd awaiting them. The procession then forms, at the head walks the groom, his hat ornamented with a sprig of "romarin," arm in arm with the maid of

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honor. Following these comes the bride, on the arm of the best man. Then follow the parents, relatives and friends, in their order.

After the ceremony the pair are stopped by the choir, when the wedding is Catholic, and by the orphans of the town, when Protestant, and these, holding a long ribbon or garland, forbid passage until the customary sum of money is paid. Returning to the home of the parents for the wedding banquet, the bride and groom and the invited guests take part in certain "Pantagruelistic" festivities, varying more or less, according to locality, but sometimes of a character which cannot well be described in print. The following day the guests are invited to a dance and supper, which is prolonged far into the night. On the third and last day of the celebration, the best man and his assistants proceed to the home of the maid of honor, and secure the hoe and the "quenouille" (distaff) offered by the friends to the newly-married couple. A procession forms in great state, preceded by a couple of musicians playing cornets. Two young girls in costume carry the hoe and the "quenouille," and proceed to the new house of the bride and groom, to whom they offer them most solemnly. A collection is then taken up by a parish officer for the benefit of the poor; these are never forgotten, no matter what the occasion.

M. Henry Welschinger (member of the Institute) in his delightful account, "Moeurs et coutumes," speaks of

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one ceremony which, however, we did not see. "There is a very amusing wedding custom in the environs of Soultz-sous-Forets. At a certain moment of the day the guests behold the great door of the farmhouse open, amid cries of delight and laughter. One hears an oft-repeated phrase shouted by the crowd of onlookers, 'D'r yle wangen Kompt' (dialect), as a cavalier, mounted on a horse, all clad in garlands and ribbons, appears, blowing a long brass trumpet. The horse is attached to a large cart wheel by means of a chain, and on the wheel are seated the grotesquely attired figures of a man and a woman, with huge false noses, and uttering loud cries of simulated terror as they are dragged along, clinging frantically to the revolving wheel's rim.1 What is the signification of this strange ceremony? No one can explain exactly. It is certainly of great antiquity, perhaps it betokens the vicissitudes of married life, or typifies the character of the road before them…"  The wedding feasts are always prolonged to the very last degree, for the peasants are great eaters and drinkers. The food provided is abundant, often costing far more than they can well afford, through pride, and resulting sometimes in the accumulation of debts, under which the parents labor for years. But they do not grudge the expense, even though it entails such suffering. Roast birds and stewed meats, with huge patties and all sorts of tarts

    1 Just how this was accomplished was not made clear by the author.

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and pastry abound. At the groaning table in the always picturesque dining room, the happy-faced bride and groom are seated at the head of the gathering, with the relatives and honored guests, generally in the order of age. The younger folk, boys and girls, are placed together at one side, and are very noisy and full of quips and loud laughter over the usually very free conversation. It is customary for the notables, M. the Mayor if possible, to drink the health of the bride in a felicitous speech, and this is afterwards boasted about and discussed by the family long after the festivities have become dim memories in the neighborhood. After the Mayor has shaken hands with the couple, wished them long life and departed, comes the musical part of the festivity, in which the ushers and the young girl friends of the pair take turns in singing the well-known sentimental songs of the province, and then, amid cheers and applause, the door opens and in come the old women who have per­chance cooked and labored over the banquet. These arrange themselves about the bride and groom and solemnly chant the "Bride's Song," usually of a most lugubrious character - grave and melancholy, suited, as they think, to the life of the peasant, filled with allusions to toil, trouble, and bereavement. After all the noise and laughter, it lends a tragic note to the celebration, and there are tears, and sad shakes of gray heads over the well-known words of such meaning to those who have

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travelled the worn road of life. The singers present a bouquet to the bride, singing something like this:

Pray take these flowers from me, Madame,

For soon you'll plainly see, Madame,

These happy hours-

These fragrant flowers

Shall turn to dust-

As all things must-

Soon you shall plainly see, Madame !-

Soon you shall plainly see!

Then all at once the musicians make a loud noise with their instruments, which quite drowns the lugubrious song, and the old women are hustled away, rewarded with a couple of pieces of silver each for their trouble, and all leave the disordered table for the dance in the barn, or on the grass in the meadow, if the weather is fine. During the dance the bride and groom steal away to some neighboring house, in which they are to stop for the night, the secret of which they think has been jealously guarded, but all in vain, for their flight is soon remarked and the search begins. They are soon discovered and the sound of a gun-shot draws the crowd to their retreat, where one of the ceremonies is the presentation of a bowl of "white soup" by the best man and the maid of honor to the couple in the chamber, while outside the house the young people dance and sing until they are wearied. One of the "Chansons of La Saintange," of

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which the peasants are very fond, runs something like this:

Your husband sure you'll find,

Will rule you and control you!

He'll not be always kind,

And who will then console you"

But always let him have his way.

For certainly you must obey.

Heh! la la, Heh! la la!

And thus rises the curtain upon the married life of the peasant.

Another very quaint ceremony is called the "Gullertanz" (Rooster Dance), celebrated in the neighborhood of Ingwiller (Lower Alsace). It is described as taking place in the large barns, where there is ample floor space. There will be a tall pole, all garlanded with vines and flowers, and hung with flags, from among which the beloved tri-color is missing. To this pole is suspended the prize rooster of the community. All about the huge room in the barn, with its great dark, roughly-hewn oaken beams crossing overhead from wall to wall, are seated the young girls and their parents, and promenading up and down in pairs are the eligible young men from far and near, all dressed in their best holiday array. Thus the young people are able to meet and become acquainted properly under the watchful eyes of their parents or guardians. After half an hour of this promenading and introducing, the master of ceremonies gives the

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signal, and the young girls form a circle about the flower­decked pole and intone a joyous sort of Rabelaisian poem, in which some of the sentiments are rather free in language; too much so for quotation here. But it is quite a matter of course in these country districts of Alsace-Lorraine. This concluded, the girls choose their partners and the dance begins. Above where the rooster is hanging there is suspended horizontally a stick, wrapped in ribbons, upon which is fixed a large tallow candle. At each end of this stick is a cord; suspended from one is a bottle; from the other a leaden ball. When the signal is given to begin the dance, the first couple are handed a bouquet of flowers, which together they hold as high as they can reach, while dancing about the pole. When they tire, they pass the bouquet to the couple next behind, and so on up to the moment when the tallow candle burning down sets fire to the string and lets fall either the leaden ball or the bottle. The dancers who carry the bouquet at this moment win the prize rooster, but this would seem an expensive sort of prize, for he or she who gains it is required to serve it up roasted at the supper which follows the ceremony, and the young man is expected to furnish the wine to wash it down. But I am told the penalty is always paid with very good grace.

In Lorraine on one of the Sundays of "Careme," a singular custom is maintained by the peasants. For weeks before they gather and prepare great torches made of hay

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steeped in resin. When the day arrives, a parade takes place, headed by the local band of fiddlers and pipers, and followed by gaily decorated farm wagons, drawn by great draft horses, and filled with young men, girls, and laughing, shouting children. This celebration is called "Bure," in some localities; in others "Le feu des Brandons et des Bures," and also in the dialect "Bauernfartnacht." Children make the round of the village, knocking gaily at the doors and begging faggots and all sorts of fuel for the fire. This they pile in the wagons and carry to the place where the celebration is to be held, generally in the public square of the village. There the fuel is made into a great pile, and at a signal, after darkness has fallen, a match is put to it, and as the flames light up the scene, the peasants dance about it and sing their sometimes merry and often melancholy folk songs. In the valley when the "bures" are set on fire, the young boys and girls gather with lists of the names of their companions. Against each name of a young fellow the master of ceremonies places the name of a young girl, and these are then considered affianced for the evening. When the "brandon" or "bures” is set on fire, two young fellows, elected previously, are placed in the window of one of the houses overlooking the scene. By the aid of  a lantern the list is read as follows:

The reader cries out loudly: "I specify, I specify." The waiting crowd below cry out gleefully:

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"Whom do you specify'?"

"Alphonse Dargon and Marie Dieudonne."

"Tis done, and well done!"

Then some one fires off a musket or fowling piece, and the spectators proceed with the game or ceremony until all the names have been read out to the end of the list.

Sometimes, so it is said, this arbitrary coupling of the names of the young people results in weddings. The young girls who are pleased with their oddly-named partners, invite these "fiances" to their homes, with the consent of the parents, and it is then customary for the young couple to seat themselves side by side for the fete day supper. After this, should the families be pleased, they exchange visits very formally, with a view to the business of marriage between the young people.

These customs vary according to locality; in some of the towns in the Vosges on this particular Sunday in "Careme," the parading couples so curiously brought together, are called "Valentins" and "Valentines," and these are required to dance together about the great bonfire, to the accompaniment of a fusilade of gunshots, and the joyous cries and laughter of the crowd. After which they exchange gifts, and visit each other's parents, until the engagement is an accomplished fact. It is said that quite often this coupling of names is prearranged by the parents, and that, at any rate, a couple so named are not expected to object, for any reason,

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or to refuse to dance together. This would be considered in very bad taste, to say the least. Each locality has its peculiar celebrations, varying most interestingly, embodying sometimes charming details, and at others astonishing ones, but all singularly free from that coarseness generally looked for in peasant gatherings.

[End of Section 9]

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