ne's _petit pain_ and drinks one's coffee
and milk, with an orange tree on either side of the table, is a superb
one.

After the tables are closed the big room at the Cafe de Paris in Monte
Carlo fills up with those who require supper or a "night cap" before
going home; and though a sprinkling of ladies may be seen there, the
half-world much preponderates. The night-birds finish the evening at the
Festa, some distance up the hill, where two bands play, and there is
some dancing, and where the lights are not put out until the small hours
are growing into big ones.

Mentone

Mentone has a splendid tea-shop at Rumpelmayer's, and a pleasant
restaurant at which to lunch is that of the Winter Palace. Many people
drive from Monte Carlo to lunch or take tea at the Cap Martin Hotel, and
it is a pleasant place with a splendid view from the great terrace,
though sometimes people not staying in the hotel complain of the
slowness of the attendance there.

The Pyrenees

As a gastronomic guide to the Pyrenees I cannot do better than introduce
to you my very good friend C.P., who knows that part of the world as
well as any native, and whose taste is unimpeachable. I therefore stand
down and let him speak for himself:--

Throughout the Pyrenees, in nine hotels out of ten, you can obtain a
decently cooked luncheon or dinner--neither above nor below the average.

But in order to depart from the beaten track of the ordinary menu,
abandon all hypocrisy, oh, intelligent traveller! and do not pretend
that you can turn a fastidious nose away from the seductions of the
burnt onion and the garlic clove, the foundations upon which rests the
whole edifice of Pyrenean cooking. Pharisaical density would be only
wasting time, for these two vegetables will be your constant companions
so soon as you decide to sample the _cuisine bourgeoise_ of the country.
You should on no account fail to venture on this voyage of exploration,
as some of the dishes are excellent, all of them interesting, and, once
tasted, never to be forgotten.

To attempt to enumerate them all, to describe them minutely, or to give
any account of their preparation, hardly comes within the scope of these
notes. Suffice it to give the names of two or three.

First comes the _Garbure_, a kind of thick vegetable soup containing
Heaven knows what ingredients, but all the same sure to please you. Next
comes the _Confit d'Oie_, a sort of goose stew, utterly unlike anything
yo