fasting. We were greeted in the morning
with a dismal rain and wet roads, as we began the march. After a time,
however, it poured down in such torrents, that we were obliged to take
shelter in a _remise_ by the road, side, where a good woman, who
addressed us in the unintelligible Provencal, kindled up a blazing fire.
On climbing a long hill, when the storm had abated, we experienced a
delightful surprise. Below us lay the broad valley of the Rhone, with
its meadows looking fresh and spring-like after the rain. The clouds
were breaking away; clear blue sky was visible over Avignon, and a belt
of sunlight lay warmly along the mountains of Languedoc. Many villages,
with their tall, picturesque towers, dotted the landscape, and the
groves of green olive enlivened the barrenness of winter. Two or three
hours' walk over the plain, by a road fringed with willows, brought us
to the gates of Avignon.

We walked around its picturesque turreted wall, and rambled through its
narrow streets, washed here and there by streams which turn the old
mill-wheels lazily around. We climbed up to the massive palace, which
overlooks the city from its craggy seat, attesting the splendor it
enjoyed, when for thirty years the Papal Court was held there, and the
gray, weather-beaten, irregular building, resembling a pile of
precipitous rocks, echoed with the revels of licentious prelates. We
could not enter to learn the terrible secrets of the Inquisition, here
unveiled, but we looked up at the tower, from which the captive Rienzi
was liberated at the intercession of Petrarch.

After leaving Avignon, we took the road up the Rhone for Lyons, turning
our backs upon the _rainy_ south. We reached the village of Sorgues by
dusk, and accepted the invitation of an old dame to lodge at her _inn_,
which proved to be a _blacksmith's shop_! It was nevertheless clean and
comfortable, and we sat down in one corner, out of the reach of the
showers of sparks, which flew hissing from a red-hot horseshoe, that the
smith and his apprentice were hammering. A Piedmontese pedlar, who
carried the "Song of the Holy St. Philomene" to sell among the peasants,
came in directly, and bargained for a sleep on some hay, for two sous.
For a bed in the loft over the shop, we were charged five sous each,
which, with seven sous for supper, made our expenses for the night about
eleven cents! Our circumstances demanded the greatest economy, and we
began to fear whether even this s