Prince of Wales's feathers on some The stone is of a

parts of the walls. yellowish white hue, and looks so fresh and new, that one might almost fancy some of the ornaments to have but just come out of the sculptor's hand: yet the ivy, wild fig, honeysuckles, and vines, which overshadow the ruined towers, and cluster in graceful festoons round the carved windows and broken staircases, give them a venerable appearance. It is, however, so very well and solidly built, that time alone could not have worked the desolation which now reigns. We heard that one of the largest houses at Blanquefort was built of stones taken from our Edward's palace."

'Bayonne.-Evening-Hotel

St.

Etienne. The last three hours of our drive was through very lovely scenery. The Pyrenees were but dimly visible in the distant haze; but here and there a blue summit peeped above the light clouds, and still further, a snowcapped peak glistened through them. There was something in these mysterious outlines which enchanted me, even more than if we had obtained a clear and uninterrupted view of our new friends-friends I trust they will be, for I know of nothing in inanimate nature to which we get so much attached as mountains. We soon learn their forms and names by heart. Then the distinct and near views were beautiful the sea, the Bay of Biscay was on our right, bounding a woody plain, and on each side of the road, the plane, the tulip, and cork-tree frequently occur, telling of new regions and southern lands; and vines, trellised over whole fields, form an umbrageous roof to Indian-corn, which grows beneath. Then we passed by little clear lakes, and dells, and abrupt heights, and scenes which suddenly transferred us in imagination to an old English park, with its giant oaks and lordly fern, looking wild, yet so aristocratic, that we gazed through a break in the forest, almost expecting to see the old manor-house; but a distant mountain appeared instead, and the eye travelled far over vine-clad plains; and Spanish. featured peasants, carts drawn by oxen, and the smell of the wild heliotrope, told us that we were far south. And in this

town every thing tells that we are very near Spain. Theshops, the hotels, have Spanish as well as French signs, and the old arcades and highly-ornamented houses have quite a Spanish air. The low, old-fashioned arcades, the dress and look of the people-the language, all announce a frontier town."

our

Lady Chatterton well remarks, that as great beauty of scenery seems to paralyze the power of sketching, so great interest in a subject interferes with description; and so it is, the dissatisfaction felt at inability to convey any thing approaching to our sensations throws a damper on our efforts, and we prefer this unmutilated enjoyment even to ourselves, lest in participating them with others, we should destroy the illusion they have created.

We pass over a legend too long for insertion, but which, gracefully and well told, will amply repay perusal, to reach a spot we have always lovedone of the sweetest in a sweet country, and, whether for climate, situation, or scenery, having no rival— Pau. We are sorry for once-it is only once-to observe, that a most pleasant chapter opens with one of those blemishes we have stigmatized at the commencement of this paper. Far from us be the thought, to undervalue the affection of one of God's creatures the humblest and the meanest we treasure love too dearly to reject it, though it beam from the soft eye of a spaniel, or show itself in the gambols of a Blenheim; but that the death of a favourite dog should be announced as the reason for change of place-a cause for "seeking distraction and excitement in new

scenes;" this, we confess, we not only do not subscribe to, but must actually condemn; and even were the feeling to be defended, we must dissent to the taste of introducing this mention of it in such a place, and such a manner; and we are really sorry to read, that the old castle of Henri IV. failed to excite its due pleasures under the memory of this bereavement.

The passage which follows is far more to our liking:

"We started from Bayonne for Pau at ten minutes before eight, and reached it at five; thus doing the hundred and five kilometres, upwards of sixty-eight

miles, in nine hours and ten minutes. Heavy showers occasionally occurred, and the weather became so cloudy, as to shut up the view of the higher mountains, and thus deprive the landscape of its chief attraction; still, enough was left to render it very beautiful, and occasional glimpses showed us what the scenery would be with the high chain exposed. We had an opportunity of judging of the fine position of Bayonne this morning, with the mountains clear. The view, soon after leaving the town, from the Pau road, was very beautiful, and, for the first time, the snow mountains were distinctly visible;

view;

they soon became clouded. We passed a nice campagne commanding this fine the river is an interesting feature in the foreground-as is the Pic du Midi in the distance. Before descending to the Adour the view must be fine; it was in a great measure hidden from us. The river, which is crossed by a good modern bridge, is here, as it appeared to me, a broader stream than at Bayonne.

"At Peyrehorade, which is on the Gave, there is a bridge over the river, here a fine stream, and near it is an interesting old castle, now, I believe, a poorhouse. Its position is good, over the river; and the terrace of a little garden we walked to, commands a fine view. On the height above are the remains of an ancient castle. All this country is very highly cultivated; and the rich green of the Indian corn contrasts well with the yellow tints of the wheat, fast advancing to maturity. After ascending a côte beyond Peyrehorade, we came to a pretty maison de campagne, commanding a rich and extensive view of the course of the Gave and the range of mountains. In the villages the St. John garlands are universal: these garlands are made of flowers, gathered on St. John's eve, and, being blessed by the priest, are suspended to the barn-door, where they remain until replaced by a fresh one on the following year, and are supposed to have the effect of protecting the crop."

The Englishman travels for pleasure, says Lady Chatterton, ̄and therefore comforts are essential. His hotel must be well arranged, his dinner well cooked, and his attendance prompt. True; but there is

another reason for this: home habits make these things every-day matters in England; not so with foreigners, who, if not in the very highest walks of society, have not the most vague notion of domestic comfort. To them VoL, XXII.No. 128.

there is no inconvenience in eating, drinking, dressing, and sleeping in the same one chamber; the waiter may be a half-clad frotteur, and the floor sanded; the soins de toilette are a slight matter, and demand neither space nor time, we had almost added, nor water; and a "Frenchman's wash" is a proverb for a scrubbing with a dry towel. Hence, the source of what is so often miscalled fastidiousness in John Bull, and contentment in the foreigner.

Our authoress enters Spain by the tion of the route is most exciting. Port de Venasque, and the descrip

"We were up at five o'clock, and had the happiness to see the mountains perfectly distinct, and a brilliant morning; departure for Spain, of course, resolved on. I in a chaise à porteur, carried by two men, with two to relieve, for which we are to pay forty francs: the rest of the party mounted, and our guide, Benoit, carries on his horse

portmanteau, and various other things-provisions for the men, and a leathern wine-bottle, to be used a l'Espagnolle, that is, to be held a certain distance from the mouth, and the stream of wine directed into the mouth, thus really making the throat a thoroughfare for wine.'

"The ride up the valley was delightful; woods and mountains, known before under the gloomy influence of mist and rain, now appeared in all their beauty.

"We passed the Tour de Castel Bielle, standing out in its fine position, and I found that the 'porteurs' kept up to the usual mountain-pace, for in less than an hour we reached the point where the road to the Valleé de Lys branches off, and we entered the Vallée of the Hospice-a valuable property of the commune of Luchon.

"We soon reached the Cagot's hut. The Cagots seem to have ceased to be considered as a separate race-the only present distinction being their own inclination to remain in the mountains. The family occupying this hut lost a remarkably fine young man, who was killed at Constantine, and their remaining son has now been drawn in the conscription: I saw the wife loading a horse with wood, to sell at Luchon.

"We continued to ascend, enjoying a good view, of which the Pic de Pecade, not visible from Luchon, formed the great attraction; it is a complete sugar loaf of smooth shist, and looks almost as if it had been chiselled. We now reached the forest of Charagan, grow.

M

ing very fine beech and fir, with other trees, and I saw a large cherry lately cut, which is a wood much esteemed for building.

"Soon after leaving the forest, we reached the Hospice, having, by degrees, neared the great heights, to which, for many days we had looked forward with so much anxiety; behind us we saw the fine pasture height of Sobra Bagnieres, and could judge that the view from it must be very good, commanding all the heights; a visit to it might be combined with the expedition to the Valley du Lys.-Mem. for future travellers.

"The Hospice is a large, substantial house, for which a considerable rent is paid; the tenant is obliged to keep the road to the Port from the Hospice in order, as it is called; and in winter, when he descends into the valley, must leave bread, wine, and firing in the house for the relief of any traveller who may call. It is a point of conscience, which is almost invariably observed, to leave money equivalent to the quantity of provisions consumed. Another trait of honesty connected with this passage is the sacredness of property left at the Port de Venasque. By law the carriers do not cross the frontier; the bales of goods are deposited at the Port, and there they often remain for the day and night, before being removed by the parties to whom they belong, and yet the plunder of a bale is a thing never heard of. And whence is this? Is it that scenes like these, that the sight of nature in its sublimity, the awful terrors of the avalanche and storm in these high regions, have the power of elevating the mind, and rendering it incapable of base and sordid actions?

"A strong religious feeling, too, is connected with the pass: it has all been consecrated, so that the bodies of those lost in the passage may lie in holy ground. I was pointed out a spot, at the side of one of the small lakes, where lie the bodies of five men, who were carried away by an avalanche of snow, in attempting a passage during the winter. It was two months before they were discovered. Our cortège stopped at the Hospice a few minutes; walked forwards, about to penetrate amongst the great heights around us, and with a feeling of curiosity as to how we were to get on a feeling destined to be far more strongly excited. We had, from a height reached in a few minutes, to halloo loudly, before could move the main body, still lingering at the Hospice below us.'

we

we

After a short but pleasant excur

sion in Catalonia, Lady Chatterton returns to the French side of the Pyrenees, and we meet her once more at Bagneres; and here we find an amusing contrast pictured between the bathing-places in the Pyrenees and in Germany.

La

"We were much surprised at the high price of every thing in these Pyrenean baths; so much dearer than in Germany; and it is a comfort to know that this cannot be attributed to the English, for they are chiefly frequented by French; there was, indeed, only one English family among all the visitors at Luchon. The manner of living is much less sociable than in Germany: few tables d'hôte; no parties; nothing to bring people together: every thing appears less cheerful, less primitive. dies, indeed, are much better dressed here, but they do not look half so happy or cheerful. Certainly, the superior beauty of the scenery compensates for much; still I delight in the 'bad' life of Germany. I say nothing of low prices, and facility of conveyance, which are great advantages; but its early hours the pleasant, well-instructed, intellectual Germans, and travellers of other nations, to be met with at the tables d'hôte-the beautiful music with which the ear is gratified-all this is more soothing, as well as exhilarating, to the spirits of an invalid, than even the splendid scenery of the Pyrenees. The Germans give me the idea of being the happiest, the most rationally happy, people on earth; and nothing does one so much good as to look on happiness."

Lady Chatterton remarks upon the erroneous impressions which are current about the climate of France, Germany, and even Italy; and pronounces that the breezes of England are, to the full, as exhilarating. We do not intend to join issue with her in the matter; albeit, the atmosphere is the last thing, in the way of our nationality, we shall ever undertake to dispute with a foreigner.

and torments of house-keeping, and sundry other annoyances, which home, sweet home, sometimes entails; above all, to those who write, meaning to publish, there is another and most delicious excitement the hope of amusing and interesting others."

We, unhappily for ourselves and for others, perhaps, know something of the latter; and certes, we must acknowledge that we never found our journal any solace to our low spirits, and our ink is the very last bottle we should ever look to to raise our desponding heart. And here, however unwillingly, we must pull up short, though, in fact, only at the opening of the truly Spanish portion of the book. We are certain, however, that in the extracts we have given, enough will appear to justify all we have said of these pleasant volumes, while we have left an unreaped harvest of amusement to the reader in the remainder of the work.

Next on our list comes Mr. Clifton Paris, and a pleasanter traveller we would not ask to forgather with. His book bespeaks the gentleman and the scholar: no sickly cant, no overwrought description, no searching for unnatural sensations to be expressed in less natural phrases; but a manly, unaffected Englishman, who, hearing much of the Pyrenees, and unable to obtain information accurate enough to guide his rambles, sets out to explore the route himself, and for the benefit of others, publishes his notes.

As a pedestrian, and such he is, his volume has more than the common share of adventure. Your foot-pad meets men and women under circumstances that your muffled traveller, in a coupé, wots not of. The peasant, en blouse, is his fellow-traveller; the way-side cabaret his hotel; and if he have fewer of the enjoyments which wealth and civilization diffuse, en revanche, he has the more amusing features of a land before him; and the sphere of his observation is not limited by the glass window of a coach, or the directing finger of a cicerone.

Without dragging our reader over the road from Paris, we shall skip boldly to Bayonne at once, and present our author en route.

"The first village on the road towards Pau was Peyèhorade, about twen

ty-one miles distant from Bayonne ; but I did not undertake the journey without the full expectation of finding some intermediate cottage, or at least some convenient spot where I might repose for a few hours. The night was beautiful and moonlight, and the air was filled with fragrance. For many a mile the country was wild and solitary; not a human being, nor a cottage, nor dwelling of any description was to be seen; and the stillness was unbroken by the slightest sound. The road ran in a straight direction over a sandy soil, skirted on each side by dark pines; and had it not been for the oppressive weight on my shoulders, the walk would have been extremely agreeable. I soon found, however, that I was compelled to rest every now and then upon the stones that were piled by the road-side, and at length I felt so utterly exhausted, that I sought some nook or snug berth among the trees where I might repose for the night; but this plan I was compelled to abandon from the impossibility of finding water, without which I could not have availed myself of any resting place, however inviting it might otherwise have been; for I was as thirsty as Tantalus; and like him, I imagined at every step, from the ideal murmurings of water which the wanton breeze brought to my ear, that the muchdesired elixir was at my lip. In such a state, what was my delight when I suddenly came upon a cottage shining in the moonlight, and evolving wreaths of smoke from its good old chimney! It was an oasis in the desert, and my lips acknowledged it with gratitude after having been refreshed by repeated draughts of clear cold water.

Some

little time elapsed before I could obtain entrance, shouting and thundering at the door until the black pines around me re-echoed the sound; but such efforts were at last rewarded, and I was admitted into a room dimly illu minated by glowing logs of wood that displayed the comfortable recesses of a huge chimney corner. A row of Bayonne hams was hanging from one of the massive cross-beams of the ceiling, and on the earthy floor lay various household implements in picturesque disorder. But the inmates whom I encountered brought to my mind the shrivelled tenants of St. Michel's vault,-two wretched erones, miserably clothed, with withered arms and naked feet, and a man of but little better mien and dress. Considering the hour of the night and the loneliness of the road, it was not surprising they should have expressed astonishment at my abrupt intrusion: for aught I know, they might

have mistaken me for some phantom, had not the pack on my shoulders spoke so plainly of this earth and its vanities. Upon asking permission to pass the night there, I was told that I should meet with a little auberge about half a mile further on; so after draining their water vessel to my heart's content, I resumed my route, and having wearily passed the promised half mile, I again stood before a dark stone cottage. It was involved in the deepest obscurity; no smoke ascended from its chimney, and windows and doors were all closed. I was, however, unwilling to abandon my chance of a lodging without an effort, and I accordingly opened a heavy battery of fists upon the shutters. had no immediate effect; it summoned forth a dog, which taking up a station about six yards in my rear, proved a valuable auxiliary; for the shutters soon creaked and turned upon their hinges, and a figure, evidently aroused from its bed, emerged from the casement into the cool night air, whilst a gruff voice demanded the cause of so much disturbance?

6

It

"A weary traveller,' said I; open your door, and give me shelter for the night; I am so exhausted I can proceed no further.'

666

I have no bed for you,' was the chilling answer; but you will find an auberge at a very short distance;' and he then graphically described the house, standing on the side of the road, with an earnestness which excited my gratitude, and which I mention as being highly characteristic of the kind feelings that I have ever found among the peasantry of France. Few English. men, I fancy, when thus summoned from their beds at midnight, would have treated the disturber of their rest with so much courtesy.

"Having apologised for my abrupt interruption of his slumbers, I once more started in pursuit of this phantom auberge, for such did I begin to regard it, another quarter of a mile, however, did actually bring me to a whitewashed cottage standing endways on the road. All right thought I; but no evidence of life appeared from window or chimney, neither did its aspect accord with that of a house devoted to public accommodation; appearances, however, are proverbially deceptive, so, without any hesitation, I entered a little farm yard, and passing through a colony of snoring swine, began, as before, an attack upon the window-shutters, but no cries for quarter came responsive to the assault; I might as well have stormed a tomb and called upon the dead to answer-it was the hall of enchantment, and the

sleepers were evidently spell-bound.— In this dilemma I accidentally espied an old ruinous ladder that leant its crazy form against the opening to a chamber, which I accordingly ascended, and soon found myself in a hay-loft, which obviously communicated with the house; need I say, that I instantly cast my load from my back, kicked off my shoes, and threw my wearied limbs upon the soft hay? And never surely did bed of down afford more delightful repose, although I must confess, that before I fell into a profound sleep, the idea of hungry rats crossed my imagination, and I felt some instinctive dread that I might not awake in the morning with a proper complement of toes; but under my circumstances, fancy could not long sustain a contention with sleep.

"At about four the next morning I was sufficiently aroused by the Bayonne porkers, to observe that the sky was red with the coming sun, and that a heavy thunder-cloud was sailing along the heavens; but so incessant and in such various and startling tones was the grunting, that after a few interrupted naps, I determined to rise, and having well shaken myself, I prepared to astonish the natives by my appearance. So far from this, however, I was received by them as if I had been the familiar guest of weeks, which I can only explain by supposing that the lazy inmates had heard my noisy applica tion for entrance on the previous night, but were indisposed to acknowledge the summons, although they one and all protested to the contrary.

"The aspect of the interior bore no greater resemblance to an auberge than did the exterior walls. The host was a blacksmith, and was labouring at his vocation in an opposite shed; but his daughter, who was really a very pretty girl-a perfect rose in the wildernessmost kindly ministered to my various wants; and I so far ingratiated myself into her favour as to obtain a bowl of hot milk-a rare luxury in these parts, as it is generally made into cheese. This, with an unlimited supply of bread, af forded me an excellent breakfast, and at seven o'clock I found myself ready to start on my pilgrimage to Peyrèhorade."

We cannot omit his description of Eaux Bonnes, to which he ascends from the Vallée d'Ossau.