us_, you would have done much better to have
stopped at Paris; there's nothing here, sir--absolutely nothing! What
are these mountains? Bare rocks! forests, indeed, there are; but there
are forests every where. Give me, sir, the Foret de Montmorency, even
the Bois de Boulogne; and for rocks, I wish for nothing better than the
Rocher de Cancale." (Here he rubbed his hands excessively, and looked
round the table for a smile at the _bon-mot_.)

"M. Bouton will pardon me," observed the old officer, "but if he had
travelled all over Europe as I have done, he would not wonder at the
desire to change an every-day scene for something new. When our _corps
d'armee_ was traversing the Mont St Bernard, I assure you I never felt
the slightest regret at having quitted Paris:--we could have gone on to
the end of the world with the spirits we then were in. It was the same
in the Pyrenees:--for more reasons than one I was extremely sorry when
we had to quit Pampeluna for Bayonne"--and the old gentleman sighed, and
looked wistfully up at the ceiling, as though many a painful
recollection came across his mind at that moment.

"Which are the finer mountains sir," was my inquiry--"the Pyrenees or
these of Auvergne?"

"You can hardly draw a comparison between them," he replied. "There is
vast extent, width, and height in the Pyrenees, and a certain degree of
savage horror about them, which you do not feel even amidst the
Alps:--they partake of the nature both of France and Spain:--they are
unlike any mountains I know of. But for all this, sir, do not allow
yourself to hold a poor opinion of these heights of Mont Dor: you will
find here scope and exercise for all your enthusiasm, all your love of
the picturesque. Are you fond of shooting and hunting?--well, then, if
you were to remain here during September and October, braving the early
snows which come upon these mountains even in autumn, you would have
your choice of all animals from the wolf to the _chevreuil_ and the
hare, and of all birds from the eagle to the partridge. There are plenty
of snipes on these hills."

"M. le Baron de Bretonville," said Madame Bouton, "do not go to tempt
the English gentleman to any of your hare-brained expeditions: he is
come here to enjoy the baths:--he is a victim to the spleen; he must be
danced and talked and bathed into good health, and a little vivacity
first of all. When we all leave the baths, we will give him permission
to stop behind with you,