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wandered over accross the drawbridge to the fort and the old town.  It was dark by this time and in one of the narrow streets we met a procession of men and women and soldiers, with lanterns and torches - and had to crowd against the wall to let them pass us.  Then we went back to the Halle - which is The Market - and there by a few gas lights they were dancing again to the music of bagpipes and the 'clang of the wooden shoon'.  We caught the infection, and danced 'a ring around the rosey' on the cobble stones out side and then went into the Hotel and had a real dance in the Salon - and a jolly time.  I wish you could see Louise Kinsella the youngest one.  She looks like one of the Sylvia Millar's heroines - Lucy Ashton or - The Huguenot lovers, and dresses that way - features somewhat like Mrs McGeorge, and golden hair tumbling around her ears and down her back, no bustle but always a plain skirt of some soft material and generally a kerchief of some kind thrown around her shoulders or over her head - or a big hat tied under her chin - the ones artists look quite swell in their corduroys knickerbockers and 



Coucarneau - Sunday, July 15 [1888]

Same place on the beach - and have just been made happy by a letter from Uncle Will telling me of the safe
arrivals at Beach Haven and peace reigning there - I am so glad - I did feel anxious knowing the heat and all - am glad you had plenty of time - to catch the train.  Two horrid little Breton girls are plaguing us for sous and are impatient beyond belief -  say that if we dont give them each a sou they wont go away, that they will throw sand at us, and will read what we are writing, as they understand English! Which of course they dont -  &c.  They are abominable.  Shall try and forget them only its impossible.

Yesterday was the glorious 14th.  The 4th of July of the French nation.  And we had various kinds of celebration only no photographs - I mean fire crackers but I am so [[?jinxed]] Than I dont know what I'm writing.  They gave loaves of bread to the poor at the Maire's in the morning and the Place was alive with coiffs.  They took a photograph