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that ce jugement original is one of those opinions which an author manages to render plausible by dint of the mere longing to find them true.

The concluding chapter of this treatise relates to the most recent transformations which Bacon's philosophy has undergone, and is certainly not the least able or interesting of the nineteen which make up the volume. Comte and Positivism are brought under review. Of this sehool of philosophy M. de Rémusat avers, that it has made no great noise in France, and still less reputation. In England he conceives it to have been decidedly more successful, and to have secured more intelligent advocates than in France. He refers, for example, to John Stuart Mill, and also, as one of those who have best interpreted the doctrine of Comte, to G. H. Lewes, who “s'est montré, dans une Histoire biographique de la philosophie, l'organe et même le critique intelligent des principaux systèmes anciens et modernes.” Of course our author's sympathies as regards this school of empirisme are in the minus sign. He, for one, is not prepared to surrender the first two syllables of métaphysicien. And happy enough is his application of the French Medea's Moi! in one passage of this critique,—where he contends that whatever concession may be made to Positivism, whatever the readiness shown to forsake as a region of chimeras the domain for which the sovrans of human intellect have battled, from the time of Pythagoras to our own,--the mind of man still resembles the Médée of France's grand Corneille :

Que vous reste-t-il ?-Moi.


The experience consequent upon frequent travel, much more diversified in modern times by increased facilities of locomotion than what it was in the time of our fathers, is beginning to teach tourists that it is more interesting and far more instructive to limit themselves to special districts than to hurry in a superficial manner over wide tracts of country. There are few such that have not their especial claims and peculiarities. Every locality has its beauties, which do not resemble the beauties of other places, not to mention that social conditions and local associations

* A Winter's Sketches in the South of France and the Pyrenees, with Remarks upon the Use of the Climate and Mineral Waters in the Cure of Disease. By Fred. H. Johnson, M.R.C.S. Eng. Chapman and Hall.

A Vacation in Brittany. By Charles Richard Weld. With illustrations. Chapman and Hall,

A July Holiday in Saxony, Bohemia, and Silesia. By Walter White. Chapman and Hall.

The Irish Sketch-Book. 1842. By Mr. M. A. Titmarsh. With numerous engravings on wood, drawn by the author. New edition. Chapman and Hall.

Šummer Experiences of Rome, Perugia, and Siena, in 1854; and Sketches of the Islands in the Bay of Naples. With illustrations. By Mrs. J. E. Westropp. William Skeffington.

and reminiscences always differ more or less. Localities abound; there is an embarras de choix. Norway, with its glaciers ; Holland, with its picture-galleries ; Belgium, with its monumental glories ; the Rhine, with its rocks and castles; Switzerland and its mountain grandeurs; and fifty more. How many novelties do such limited regions as the minor Italian states, Dalmatia, Styria, Servia, or the Carpathians present ? Let us limit ourselves, however, for the moment to one or two nearer home. We have before us “ A Winter's Sketches in the South of France and the Pyrenees," by Fred. H. Johnson, a pleasant guide, and, as a medical man, an instructive one as far as the renowned mineral waters are concerned. We do not, however, agree with him at the outset that to traverse the “ Landes” is a fearful ordeal! We could readily show that there is not, for its size, a more curious little district, both for its scenery, its varied natural phenomena, its ever-changing beds of streams, its pignadas and heaths, its downs and lagoons, as well as for the manners and customs of its inhabitants, and its historical reminiscences, on the Continent. The Pyrenees, in existing railroad days, may be said to begin at Orthez, a quaint old town, in which the romance of the middle ages is curiously associated with the stern realities of modern times. Orthez

was, about the middle of the eleventh century, the rendezvous of chivalry; and knights of high renown, from the monarch of Cyprus to the hard-hitting Englishman, sought feats of emprise within its walls. Great were the attractions of the Bearnais court for all comers; for there one met the best society, "tous chevaliers et écuyers autour de ce gentil seigneur, the Gaston Phoebus of Jean Froissart.” Strange reflections steal over our tourist on visiting such a site.

“ If young Gaston de Foix had not taken it into his foolish young head to go to Pampeluna, or if his half-brother had not discovered the little packet in his doublet when at romps, and Gaston, senior, had undergone strychnism, then the Armagnac family would have taken the place the D'Albrets subsequently did. Henry IV. would not have been born to the crown of Navarre, and Protestantism would never have had a Marguerite de Valois to champion its cause in Southern Europe.

"Had a stupid, sleepy-headed soldier not permitted Wellington to cross the Gave unseen, or had the 52nd stuck fast in the swamp at Orthez, Suchet might have effected a junction with Soult; and eighty thousand men driving the country before them (a curious feat to perform), would have had a startling effect upon the negotiations at Paris.”

At Pau—the Pyrenean home of some 1200 or 1500 English-the first panoramic view of the Pyrenees is obtained. It threw even the sober doctor into ecstasies. “ Abrupt peaks," he intimates, “shoot up sharply into the ethereal blue; massy ramparts of wavy, rolling snow-fields fill in an outline of unearthly white." An apartment, corresponding to a Scotch flat, may be obtained at Pau for the season for from 801. to 3201., exclusive of plate and linen, which may be obtained at an additional charge of from 101. to 301.! Thus has the luxury of the climate of Pau been gradually placed by English prodigality beyond the reach of any save a privileged few, and quite out of proportion with the prices of the surrounding districts. A good local tourist-any one with the bump of locality well developed—would, however, soon be enabled to find his own Pau at one-fourth the price.


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On the way to Bagnères de Bigorre is Tarbes, a busy, flourishing city on the Adour, with wide streets, good shops, a handsome new Palais de Justice, and on the site of the ancient castle of the Counts de Bigorre there is now a fine massive old church, in which are an oriel window and a marble shrine worth examining. Here the Prince of Wales and his princess held court when they came to take possession of their fief of Aquitaine (and they were not a little nervous at trusting themselves in such a pugnacious territory); and here Gaston Phoebus paid his respects to them, and was subjected to her royal highness's “engaging atten

A fertile valley, with the Château d'Odos, wherein the last days of good Queen Marguerite of Navarre were passed in seclusion and prayer, leads the way to Bagnères de Bigorre. « Sur la rivière de Lisse," said old Jehan Froissart, “sied une bonne grosse ville fermée qu'on appelle Bagnères." And so still is the village of waters” of the Romans, and which has been a favourite summer retreat of kings and kaisers from the Cæsars downwards. The great features of Bagnères are its wide, well-kept streets, and its neat houses faced with white marble, or daintily whitewashed, with lodgings at half the price of Pau. There is also infinite quaintness and originality in the costume and manners of the people. From Bagnères may be visited Beaudeau, the birthplace of Larrey, Napoleon's great military surgeon, and the picturesque valley and cascades of Grippe. Also the old Castle of Mauvoisin, the hawk's-nest from which the "bad neighbours” harried the goods and chattels of the more peaceful citizens of Bagnères. One of the most celebrated views in the Pyrenees is also within sixteen miles of Bagnères, and is to be found on a summit of a col or ridge, known as the Col d'Aspin, which forms the culminating point of the mountain-road connecting Bagnères de Bigorre and Bagnères de Luchon. Mr. Johnson says that he who omits the Col d'Aspin from his Pyrenean rambles loses, to his mind, the finest point de vue of its kind in the country.

A popular error is very current that the best way to see a country is to walk. We doubt the fact: a traveller seated in a conveyance or on a hack, however sorry either may be, can contemplate the surrounding scenery more at his ease than on foot, when he is busy walking. He can get down when occasion requires it to examine a mineral formation, or gather a rare plant. The pedestrian also arrives at his journey's end too

fatigued to see anything, whilst the one who has been conveyed is fresh to use his pedestrian powers where they are really most wanted. On leaving the confines of the mountain-land at Bagnères for the mountains themselves, there is but one carriage-road through Lourdes to Argeles, whilst there is a far more sublime mule-path across the Tourmalet to Barrèges. Bottles marked “ Bass's ale,” may now be found on either, and even within the weird circle of Gavarnie. The great feature of Lourdes is its ancient castle, said to be of Roman origin, and which, garrisoned by soldiers of fortune in the English pay, became, in the middle ages, the wasp's-nest of the Pyrenees. Argeles presents a sad contrast to the glorious valley in which it stands, round which the moun. tains crowd in as though to embrace more lovingly the “Paradise of the Pyrenees." It is a collection of very dirty old houses arranged in streets to match. Cauterets, the next step in advance, is shut in by towering mountains on every side, enveloped in snowy cliffs and walls of rock. In


the season, it is one of the gayest of the Pyrenean watering-places. Close by is the Pont d'Espagne and its renowned cataract, one of the many falls of the turbulent Gave. At or near the foot of the towering Vignemale is also to be seen the picturesque Lac de Gaube.

Next comes Luz—a neat little mountain town, planted down in a pleasant valley among circling mountains, into which every aspect of mountain gorge and defile dips on all sides. Close by is the great coup de théâtre of the Pyrenees--the Cirque de Gavarnie. Of that congregation of wonders—comprising, as it does, the pass of St. Sauveur, the magnificent confusion of rocks called “Grand Chaos," the great waterfall, and, beyond, Mont Perdu, the Tour Marboré, and the Brèche de Roland-Mr. Johnson says: “Altogether the Cirque de Gavarnie is something to think of for life—it will call up more astonishment than pleasure ; and whenever the mind reverts to it, the sensation is, that, although seen and wondered at, the recollection fails to identify the details--they are wrapped up in their own immensity, but they arouse no responsive feeling in the heart, like the sunlit valley or the distant mountains tinged with prismatic hues—they fail to live there except as a shadowy terrible vision, unconnected and unarranged.”

After visiting the Cirque de Gavarnie, all the rest that is usually "done” by tourists is comparatively tame; but if, with Charpentier's and Ramond's admirable works, and a good map in hand, any adventurous traveller should trust himself, as so many have done of late in the Alps, into the recesses of the glaciers and snow-peaks of the Central Pyrenees, he will find far different objects to repay him-scenes to which even Gavarnie are but as child's play.

Still nearer home we have a district admirably suited for a special trip, where the scenery is beautiful, the associations interesting, and where modern civilisation and refinement have not changed the primi. tive manners of the inhabitants-Brittany. Mr. C. R. Weld supplies us this summer with a pleasant and prettily illustrated pocket guide to the district in question, in his “Vacation in Brittany.” Any one not prone to sickness will do well to proceed thither viâ the Channel Islands, picturesque Avranches, and the ever-remarkable Mont St. Michel. Since the scurrilous troop of democrats who abused British hospitality in the Channel Islands (as too many do in the heart of our land) have been expelled the country, the rigours of custom-house examinations on landing in Normandy or Brittany have much diminished.

The river Couesnon, which flows through Pontorson, divides Normandy from Brittany. St. Malo, then, where the lover of quaint old buildings will find a long day's work, is in the latter country. Unfortunately, it preserves its olden character of being a genuine seaport, and villanous odours drive the sketcher from its streets, and the permanent English residents to St. Servan, which has become quite an English colony. On approaching Dinan, acquaintance will be made with Breton beggars, as sturdy as those of any other local district renowned for its importunate beggars. This stronghold of the country used to be entered in true feudal style through ancient gates, but these are superseded now-a-days by a noble granite viaduct. Dinan—which has been compared, with its girdle and corset of ancient walls and towers, embroidered with gardens and overflowing with lovely flowers, to a young girl trying on a suit of old armour over a ball-dress-is actually dotted with ancient buildings of high architectural and historical interest. The most famous warriors also figure in its local associations. Close by are also many, romanesque relics, the ruined abbey of Léhon, the château of Chateaubriand at Combourg, and last and least, the crucifix at Saint Esprit.

A cabriolet may be hired at Dinan to explore Brittany for ten francs a day, the driver maintaining himself and horse. The first point should be the castle of Hunandaye, in the “Black Forest.” Founded in the thirteenth century by Olivier de Tournemine, a mighty knight, who became a terror to the surrounding country, it is a structure of great magnitude, and possesses historical as well as architectural interest. Relics of ancient furniture, derived from these old castles and manor-houses, are, it is worthy of notice, still to be met with in the inns and houses of Brittany.

St. Brieuc is one of the very few towns in Brittany which have cast off their ancient dress and faunt in bright paint and whitewash. Close by, however, are the ruins of the Tour de Cesson, where may be enjoyed reminiscences of Breton dukes, unalloyed by processions in honour of the Immaculate Conception. Here may also be seen an old water-mill and old stone farm-house, draped with gaudy lichens and canopied by stately trees, unchanged probably since the days of the same warlike chieftains ; but as we are not in Basse Bretagne, the dress of the peasants is not in keeping with their buildings. Guincamp is smaller than St. Brieuc, but it possesses some attractions in its church, albeit the grim castle, whence the Barons of Penthièvre, by turns the scourge, glory, and defence of the town, ruled the surrounding country, is no longer to be seen.

A curious custom exists in some parts of Brittany of disinterring the bones of the dead when they are divested of flesh, and placing the skulls in little black boxes. An instance of this kind may be seen at Kaerfert, where are several hundreds in rows in the church porch. Paimpol is a wild-looking town, the houses of which seem as if they had been cast down at random on the shore and never put in order. “Close by is the Abbey of Beauport, a very picturesque ruin, and of vast extent, situate at the head of a lovely bay; and at a somewhat greater distance is La Roche Aigue, a curious old residence of the Dukes of Brittany, and very characteristic of the manner of living during the middle The church at Tréguier, the next point on the route, is one of the many ecclesiastical wonders of Brittany. "On a bleak, unlively hill near the same town is a chapel, dedicated to Notre Dame de la Haine. Superstitious peasants imagine that three Aves, repeated with particular fervour in this building, will infallibly cause the death of the hated being within a year.

Lannion is a very remarkable town. Mr. Weld says that there is a group of houses in the market-place which for variety, strange design, and boldness of execution, exceed any buildings he ever saw in Italy, Germany, or France. The country around Lannion has been peopled by local legends with the mysterious King Arthur and his knights. А league beyond Plestin, where a good day's fishing may be obtained, is Laumeur, the first town in Finistère. Beneath its church is a crypt, in which is a holy spring, and around it are sculptured snakes, symbolical of Æsculapius, to whom the waters were dedicated in Pagan times (and they are still supposed to be endowed with miraculous healing powers), as also


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