topping at picturesque corners to drink in sapphire draughts of sea and
sky. Coming this way from Nice to Mentone we skipped Monte Carlo
altogether, only looking down from La Turbie on its roofs, on the
glittering Casino, and the gloomy, rock-set castle of Monaco.

And, oh, by the way, Jimmy wasn't with us on that drive, nor has he
joined us yet, though he threatens to (if that word isn't too
ungracious) a little farther on in Italy. He stayed behind in Nice to
take care of Lord Lane. Aunt Mary thinks that shows such a sweet
disposition; but I'm not sure. I believe that Montie is a marquis.

We stopped near Mentone, at Cap Martin, which of course you don't know,
as it's rather new. And it was lovely there, up high on a hill, among
sweet-smelling pines. It was pleasant to be alone with Aunt Mary again,
and I was nicer to her than I have been, I'm afraid, since Pau and
Jimmy. I should have loved to stay a long while (and it would be jolly
to come back for the carnival, though I don't suppose we shall), but
there was such a thrill in the thought of Italy being near that I grew
restless. Italy! Italy! I heard the name ringing in my ears like the
"horns of elfland."

Now we are in it--Italy, I mean, not elfland, though it seems much the
same to unsophisticated me for mystery and colour; and it is good to
have warm-hearted Christmas for our _first_ day. The one jarring note in
the Italian "entrance music" was at the frontier. I think I wrote you
how, when we landed at Dieppe from England, about a hundred years ago,
I had to pay a deposit to the custom-house for the right to take my car
into France. That money I should have got back at Mentone on leaving the
country if the late-lamented Dragon had still been in existence, but as
it vanished in smoke and flame the money has vanished too. Brown,
however (or, rather, Brown's master), paid a similar deposit on the
Napier, and passing the French custom-house on the outskirts of Mentone,
the Lightning Conductor asked my permission to stop, that he might
present Mr. Winston's papers and get the money back to send to England.

So far, so good; but it was dusk when we left the Cap Martin (as we'd
spent the day in exploring Mentone), and the custom-house people have
detained us some time; it was dark, cloudy, and windy when we moved on
again towards Italy. A _douanier_ mounted by Brown's side (I was with
Aunt Mary in the _tonneau_) to conduct us to the last French post, where
we drop