ere simply to feel that we breathe, that we live,
Is worth the best joy that life elsewhere can give."

The truth is, that the Montpelier of the imagination may be found at
Vico, Sorrento, Massa di Carrara; or, with a little alteration, in some
spots of our own Devonshire coast. The real Montpelier is a large,
opulent, well-frequented provincial capital, full of noise and dress,
and possessing an air of neatness and fashion, but totally devoid of any
thing allied to the poetry of nature. It stands on a round sweeping
hill, commanding a considerable extent of land and sea; but the
sea-coast is chiefly an expanse of low ground and etangs, or salt-water
lakes; and the neighbouring hill country, resembling in form a
succession of cultivated downs, has neither height nor variety to
recommend it. The most interesting spot in Montpelier is the Place
Peyrou, a public garden raised on high terraces, in a situation
commanding the rest of the town. At the extremity of the principal walk
stands an elegant open building of the Grecian order, overarching a
basin into which the waters of the celebrated aqueduct of Montpelier are
received, and from thence distributed through the town. The aqueduct
itself, which springs from the foot of this pavilion, and conveys the
water from the crest of an opposite hill, is a truly noble work, and,
though modern, worthy in every respect of a Roman aedile. It was erected
by the states of Languedoc in honour of Louis XIV. whose statue is
placed in the garden. Like the Pont du Gard, it consists of two tiers of
arches, fifty of which we counted in the lower range, and one hundred
and fifty in the upper, until the lessening perspective baffled all
farther attempts at reckoning. The architecture is inferior in dignity
and massiveness to that of the Roman work, but exceeds it in extent, and
probably in the quantity of masonry employed. Nothing can be more
elegant than its general form, and the manner in which it is united to
the terrace of the Place Peyrou.

Whatever natural objects are interesting in the environs, may be seen
also from this elevated spot, though I am inclined to think that the
views of distant Pyrenees which we were taught to expect, are a fiction
existing in the minds of some travellers. At all events, the glimpses
must be partial, and only to be obtained on a fine day. The Cevennes
mountains rise, however, to a tolerable height in the distance to the
west; and to the south-east, th