at the Hotel de France and the Hotel Gassion.

For confectionery, cakes, candied fruits, etc., Luc or Seghin will be
found quite A1. Whilst for five o'clock tea, Madame Bouzoum has
deservedly gained a reputation as great as that of Rumpelmayer on the
Riviera. But again a word of warning! Be discreet as to repeating any
local tittle-tattle you may possibly overhear. So much for Pau.

Throughout the mountain resorts of the Pyrenees, such as
Luchon--Bagneres de Bigorre, Gavarnie, St-Sauveur; Cauterets--Eaux
Bonnes, Eaux Chaudes, Oloron, etc., you can always, as was stated
previously, rely upon getting an averagely well-served luncheon or
dinner, and nothing more--trout and chicken, although excellent, being
inevitable. But there is one splendid and notable exception, viz., the
Hotel de France at Argeles-Gazost, kept by Joseph Peyrafitte, known to
his intimates as "Papa." In his way he is as great an artist as the
aforementioned Guichard; the main difference between the methods of the
two professors being that the latter's art is influenced by the
traditions of the Parisian school, while the former is more of an
impressionist, and does not hesitate to introduce local colour with
broad effects,--merely a question of taste after all. For this reason
you should not fail to pay a visit to Argeles to make the acquaintance
of Monsieur Peyrafitte. Ask him to give you a luncheon such as he
supplies to the golf club of which Lord Kilmaine is president, and for
dinner (being always mindful of the value of local colour) consult him,
over a glass of Quinquina and vermouth, as to some of the dishes
mentioned earlier in this article. You won't regret your visit.

In conclusion, should you find yourself anywhere near Lourdes at the
time of the Pelerinage National, go and dine at one of the principal
hotels there--say the Hotel de la Grotte. You will not dine either well
or comfortably, the pandemonium being indescribable. But you will have
gained an experience which you will not readily forget. _Adishat!_

Provence

Any one who is making a leisurely journey from Marseilles to the Roman
cities of Provence, and who halts by the way at Martigues, the "Venice
of Provence" should breakfast at the Hotel Chabas; and if M. Paul Chabas
is still in the land of the living, as I trust he is, and you can
persuade him--telling him that he is the best cook in Provence, which he
is--to make you some of the Provencal dishes, the _Bouillabaisse_, o