With health impaired by a strain of three laborious years as Lord Provost of Edinburgh—and more particularly enfeebled by a malarious fever caught in the course of making explorations with a view to sanitary improvements in the older part of the city—I sought a restorative by a visit to Mentone (or Menton, as the French prefer to call it), in the winter of 1868-69. The object of my visit was gained; but having been so indiscreet as to enter on a new term of office, in the hope of helping to carr

When autumn has drawn to a close, and unmistakable symptoms of winter are making their appearance, the swallows are seen to wing their way from England, and betake themselves to the sunny regions on the shores of the Mediterranean; thence returning to their northern haunts when nature is reviving under the genial influence of spring. The example set by these sagacious birds is not unworthy of being followed when circumstances call for and permit an escape from the cold, the fogs, the rain, and s

The approach downhill from Roccabruna to Mentone offers one of the most pleasing sights in the Riviera. Before us is the town, skirting the sea-shore, backed by hills clothed in evergreens of varying tints. On our right is the wide expanse of the Mediterranean; and in the distance to the east are seen the headlands of Ventimiglia and Bordighera. It is a peaceful, secluded scene, and, lying full in the blaze of sunshine, comes up to our ideas of what is befitting as a resort for those in quest of

The railway from Nice to Mentone, forming part of the line from Paris and Marseilles, terminates at the frontier, where it is to be united to the line from Genoa. The Italian portion, however, is in a very backward condition, and to all appearance years may elapse before it is completed; on which account many travellers for Genoa do not trouble themselves with the railway so far as it is made, but hire carriages and horses at Nice for the whole journey. Vehicles with two, four, or sometimes five

Something may now be specially said of the climate of Mentone, which as yet is its sole attraction. The charm of the place is its fine air, sunshine, and shelter during the winter months, and for these advantages some petty annoyances may be endured. What will not any one rationally disposed give for health, or a protraction of existence? A journey of several days, much expense, an absence of months from home and from valued friends, possibly professional inconvenience—what is all that when weig

In a few things the French are a little behind. They have established no uniform national time. The railways keep Paris time, which may be learned from a clock exhibited at every station; but provincial towns have all their own time, and that is somewhat distracting. At Nice, the hotel and post-office clocks shew both Paris and local time. At Mentone, time is in a chaotic condition. Some few years ago, according to a floating tradition, an English clergyman in the town who was punctilious about

With little in the way of public amusement or general intercourse, Mentone and its neighbourhood offer some subjects of interesting inquiry. If employment does not come readily to hand, it may possibly be evoked by looking about. The medieval old town; the character and habits of the people; excursions on foot or donkey to the mountainous region, with its decayed castles and sun-baked villages perched thousands of feet above the sea-level; the picturesque sea-coast, with its caverns and traditio

In making excursions in the neighbourhood it is advisable not to attempt too much in one day. During the season there is plenty time to take things deliberately. A good beginning may be made by a forenoon walk to the Monastery of the Annonciade, or Annunciata. It is situated on the high ridge of the hill between the Carei and Borigo—that hill the front promontory of which is defaced by the buff-coloured, box-like villa dignified with the name of the Château Partouneaux. The pathway to the monast

There is one other excursion which ought not to be omitted. It is to Cap Martin, and will be comprehended in a forenoon walk. What, I think, may particularly interest strangers, is a sight of the largest and finest olive trees in the whole Riviera, and also some curious Roman remains, of which no one can give any perfectly satisfactory explanation. A few days before my departure from Mentone, I made this excursion. Fortunately, I was not alone in the journey. I was favoured with the escort of Mr