this vast
vale quite to Toulouse, but no farther. Approach the mountains; the
lower ones are all cultivated, but the higher ones seem covered with
wood. Meet many wagons, each loaded with two casks of wine, quite
backward in the carriage, and as the hind wheels are much higher than
the lower ones, it shows that these mountaineers have more sense than
John Bull.

The wheels of these wagons are all shod with wood instead of iron. Here
for the first time, see rows of maples, with vines trained in festoons
from tree to tree; they are conducted by a rope of bramble, vine
cutting, or willow. They give many grapes, but bad wine. Pass St.
Martino, and then a large village of well built houses, without a single
glass window.

June 17. St. Gaudens is an improving town, with many new houses,
something more than comfortable. An uncommon view of St. Bertrand. You
break at once upon a vale sunk deep enough beneath the point of view to
command every hedge and tree, with that town clustered round its large
cathedral, on a rising ground. The mountains rise proudly around, and
give their rough frame to this exquisite little picture. Immense
quantities of poultry in all this country; most of it the people salt
and keep in grease.

Quit the Garonne some leagues before Serpe, where the river Neste falls
into it. The road to Bagnere is along this river, in a narrow valley, at
one end of which is built the town of Luchon, the termination of our
journey; which has to me been one of the most agreeable I ever
undertook. Having now crossed the kingdom, and been in many French inns,
I shall in general observe, that they are on an average better in two
respects, and worse in all the rest, than those in England. We have
lived better in point of eating and drinking beyond a question, than we
should have done in going from London to the Highlands of Scotland, at
double the expense.

The common cookery of the French gives great advantage. It is true they
roast everything to a chip if they are not cautioned, but they give such
a number and variety of dishes, that if you do not like some, there are
others to please your palate. The dessert at a French inn has no rival
at an English one. But you have no parlour to eat in; only a room with
two, three, or four beds. Apartments badly fitted up; the walls
whitewashed; or paper of different sorts in the same room; or tapestry
so old as to be a fit _nidus_ for moths and spiders; and the furniture
such, t