ns may be called the shibboleth of Mentone; if you do
not know them, you are no true Israelite."

Verney had a graceful way of gathering delicate little sprays and
blossoms here and there and silently giving them to Janet. The Professor
had noticed this, and to-day emulated him by gathering a bunch of
mallow with great care--a bunch nearly a yard in circumference--which
he presented to Janet with much ceremony.

"Oh, thanks; I am _so_ fond of flowers!" responded that young person.
"Is it asphodel? I long to see asphodel."

Now asphodel was said to grow in that neighborhood, and Janet knew it;
by expressing a wish to see the classic blossom she sent the poor
Professor on a long search for it, climbing up and down and over the
rocks, until I, looking on from my safe donkey's back, felt tired for
him. And it was not long before our donkeys' steady pace left him far
behind.

"With its pale, dusty leaves and weakly lavender flowers, it is, I
think, about as depressing a flower as I have seen," said Inness,
looking at the mammoth bouquet.

"I might fasten it to the saddle, and relieve your hands, Miss
Trescott," suggested Verney. So the delicate gray gloves relinquished
the pound of mallow, which was tied to the saddle, and there hung
ignominiously all the remainder of the day.

The church and convent of L'Annunziata crown an isolated vine-clad hill
between two of the lovely valleys behind Mentone. The church was at the
end of a little plaza, surrounded by a stone-wall; in front there was an
opening towards the south, where stood an iron cross twenty feet high,
visible, owing to its situation, for many a mile. The stone monastery
was on one side; and the whole looked like a little fortification on the
point of the hill. We went into the church, and looked at the primitive
ex-votos on the wall, principally the offerings of Mediterranean sailors
in remembrance of escape from shipwreck--fragments of rope and chain,
pictures of storms at sea, and little wooden models of ships. In
addition to these marine souvenirs, there were also some tokens of
events on dry land, generally pictures of run-aways, where such
remarkable angels were represented sitting unexpectedly but calmly on
the tops of trees by the road-side that it was no wonder the horses ran.
But the lovely view of sea and shore at the foot of the great cross in
the sunshine was better than the dark, musty little church, and we soon
went out and seated ourselves on t