if you want to eat your lunch on the highest
peak of the Esterel. It took us from seven o'clock to noon, and we
kept going steadily. Crossing the railway, we struck out to the right
of the Agay through forests of pine and cork to Le Gratadis, then along
the Ravin du Pertus, pushing through the underbrush in blossom and
skirting the many walls of rock that served to indicate where the path
was not. It would have been easier to have made the round trip from
Saint-Raphael. But we should not have the full realization of the wild
beauty of the Esterel nor that joyful feeling of reaching _astra per
aspera_. The way down to Saint-Raphael, after descending to Le Malpey,
less than an hour from the summit, is by a carriage road.

We wished we could have seen the stars from Mont Vinaigre. There was a
belvedere, and if we had only brought our blankets! But however warm
the day, the nights are cool, especially two thousand feet up. Only
those who have slept out at night in Mediterranean countries know how
cold it can get. The top of Mont Vinaigre, almost in the center of the
Esterel, affords a view of the ensemble of volcanic hills crowded
together by themselves that makes you realize why it is so easy to get
lost in the valleys between them. The forests are thick and the
ravines go every which way. Inland the Esterel is separated from the
foothills of the Maritime Alps by the valleys of the Riou Blanc and
Siagne through which runs the main road to Grasse, with a branch down
the Siagne to Mandelieu. On the northern slope of the mountain is the
road from Frejus to Cannes, which leaves the Esterel at Mandelieu. It
is one of the oldest roads in France. Several Roman milestones have
recently been unearthed here. In these hills the Romans found coal and
copper, and from the quarries along the coast at Boulouris and on Cap
Dramont the quarries of blue porphyry are still worked.

In mining possibilities the whole region is as rich as it was twenty
centuries ago; but, as in many other parts of France, little has been
done to take advantage of them. Some years ago an American friend of
mine, motoring with his wife from Frejus to Cannes, discovered coal
fields, formed a company, and is now drawing a revenue from hills whose
former owners knew them only as preserves for shooting wild boar and
other wild game. Within her own boundaries France has coal enough for
all her needs if only she would mine it. But the French love to