name and its beginning, on the eastern bank of the river two miles away,
at the spot where his javelin fell. At a much later period the Romans
adopted and enlarged the giant's foundation; but nearly every trace of
their occupation has disappeared. Indeed, even the ramparts, built only
a few hundred years ago by Francis I., have utterly vanished; and the
tendency of the town has been so decidedly toward pulling down and
building up again that it now wears quite a modern and jauntily youthful
air.

Valence was our next stopping-place, and we had a world of work to do
there during the hour or so that we remained ashore. Very properly
believing that we, being poets, could dedicate their local monuments for
them far better than they could do such work for themselves, the
excellent people of this town had accumulated a variety of monuments in
expectation of our coming; and all of these it was our pleasant duty to
start upon their immortal way.

Our reception was nothing short of magnificent. On the suspension bridge
which here spans the river half the town was assembled watching for us;
and the other half was packed in a solid mass on the bank above the
point where our landing was made. The landing-stage was a glorious blaze
of tri-colour; and there the Mayor, also gloriously tri-coloured, stood
waiting for us in the midst of a guard of honour of four firemen whose
brazen helmets shone resplendent in the rays of the scorching sun. A
little in the background was the inevitable band; that broke with a
crash, at the moment of our landing, into the inevitable "Marseillaise."
And then away we all marched for half a mile, up a wide and dusty and
desperately hot street, into the heart of the town. The detachment of
welcoming townsfolk from the bank closed in around us; and around them,
presently, closed in the detachment of welcoming townsfolk from the
bridge. We poets (I insist upon being known by the company I was
keeping) were deep in the centre of the press. The heat was prodigious.
The dust was stifling. But, upheld by a realizing sense of the
importance and honour of the duties confided to us, we never wavered in
our march.

Our first halt was before a dignified house on which was a
flag-surrounded tablet reading: "Dans cette maison est ne General
Championnet. L'an MDCCLXII." M. Faure and Sextius Michel made admirable
speeches. The band played the "Marseillaise." We cheered and cheered.
But what in the world we poets had t