Tonnerre, where there is a very capital refreshmentroom, and a sensible practice prevails of ticketing the prices of pastry, fruit, etc. Having spent our twenty minutes here, we again seat ourselves in our carriage, and by-and by pass

St. Florentin. Near here Thomas à Becket was in exile, and heard the words while officiating at the altar, "Thomas, Thomas, my church shall be glorified by thy blood." Stephen Langton, to whom we owe the Magna Charta, was banished from England by King John, and found a shelter in St. Florentin. We pass La Roche, Joigny, Sens, Montereau (where in 1814 Napoleon beat the Allies) at the junction of the Seine and Yonne, until at length we reach

Fontainebleau, and the last place en route for which a break of journey is provided by the coupons. A strange place is Fontainebleau. Jules Janin characterises it as a labyrinthine mass of vast galleries, immense saloons, amphitheatres, giants' staircases, mysterious passages, sweet retreats concealed in the wall, balconies of marble and bronze. Then the gardens. What words can describe the glories of these? But even as we ponder on the soft reminiscences conjured up by the name of Fontainebleau, we have left far behind us the town with its grand old forest, so full of mystery, of melodious sounds, of byeways, profound caverns, winding paths, waves of sand, dew-enamelled flowers, and all the rich poetic charms of nature.

Good accommodation may be had at the Hotel de Londres, and at one or two other hostelries of the town. The Château, or Royal Palace, is generally open to visitors, and the gardens and grounds will afford interest. The arrangements include an English garden. The lake is famous for an immense stock of patriarchal carp,

which have been so accustomed to be fed by visitors that they congregate in masses near the margin, and a basket of bread is offered for sale on the bridge, for the amusement of visitors, who invest freely their sous for the pleasure of feeding the domesticated finny inhabitants. A drive through the forest is exceedingly interesting, affording opportunities of seeing the result of some wonderful convulsion, by which rocks, trees, and débris appear to have been jumbled together in wild confusion. A spring of beautifully coloured water, resembling in the glass fine red wine, must be tasted by every visitor. The oaks of Fontainebleau Forest are remarkable for height and straightness, some of them attaining from 70 or 80 to 100 feet, resembling in their trunks some of the fine larches of Dunkeld, in Scotland. The forest and château both possess great historical interest. It is a special privilege granted to the holders of Cook's tickets to make a break of journey at Fontainebleau, and it cannot fail to be appreciated by all who avail themselves of it.

The railway runs through the forest or the Royal wood of Fontainebleau, and is for a long distance protected on each side by a fence of beautiful dwarf firs and juniper. Passing the picturesque city of Melun, Cisson, Brunoy (one of the seats of the late Duke of Wellington), Charenton le Pont (famous for its lunatic asylum), we at length reach Paris, where we linger or proceed by any of the routes described in the opening of this book (see pp. 13-45), as time, cash, or inclination may dictate.

General Remarks about Tours and Tourists.

T is a great mistake to suppose that travelling in Switzer

ladies, or by persons not of the strongest mental and physical calibre. True, the more strength the better, both of mind, lungs, and limbs; but even delicate persons may, with tolerable ease, reach the famed scenes of Geneva, with the enchanting surroundings of its lovely lake, more than fifty miles in length and ten to fifteen broad; the singularly beautiful and attractive associations of Interlacken, Berne, Lucerne, and many other charming places, requiring no extraordinary travelling efforts. The aspiring and the ambitious may travel as high as lungs and legs will carry them, and they will still leave untrodden and unexplored vast regions of snow-clad eminences; but for the quiet and the unaspiring there are lake and valley scenes of vast extent and inconceivable beauty and interest. It would seem almost as though nearly all visitors to Switzerland were subject to the contagion of the daring and the romantic, and could not. content themselves without just doing as much as human nature is capable of accomplishing, or bearing as much as poor feeble humanity can endure. There is, too, a natural

desire, after travelling from 700 to 800 or 1,000 miles to reach the frontiers of this famed Alpine country, to make another, though it be an almost hazardous, attempt to reach a few of the more marked and celebrated localities. Hence, every visitor to Geneva wants to see Chamouny and Mont Blanc, and few like to return without a visit to the worldfamed monks and dogs of Mount St. Bernard. Others get easily to Interlacken, but when at that Brighton or Scarborough of Switzerland, everything seems tame without making the journey over the Gemmi or Brunig passes; and the falls of the Geissbach must be seen. So also at Lucerne, one of the loveliest of all the lakes in creation pales before the sublimity of ascending 5,000 feet to the summit of the Rigi. And thus it is that all Swiss tourists are impelled to acts of daring and adventure; and even delicate, corpulent, and what might be considered at home almost lazy folk, mount mules and horses, not for an easy and pleasant ride, but to endure a shaking, often harder to be borne than the fatigue of a long pedestrian journey.

And the benefit of all this, when done in moderation, and only taxing the strength inspired by the occasion, without undergoing too much fatigue, it is impossible to estimate. The weary man is taken out of himself, and a new life inspired within him; the man who has been cribbed, cabined, and confined, takes a new lease of life, and brings home strength to bear; and all, of whatever age or grade, however strong or weakly, must come back, if they have rightly used their holiday, with nobler sentiments, enlarged ideas, and profounder reverence for the Mighty One whose hands have fashioned the mountains and the valleys, the lakes and the rivers into such exquisite form and beauty, that all countries look towards Switzerland, and crown her as the Queen of all lands for magnificence of scenery.