nother month would have
rendered the heat of the country insufferable, and stript it of much of
its beauty, by reducing to bunches of bare poles those trees which still
continued to afford verdure and finish to the prospect.

[Footnote 23: Vide Cooke's Views.]

Within a few miles of Orange we crossed the river Aigues by a handsome
stone bridge, commanding a magnificent view of Mont Ventou. This
mountain seems the most conspicuous landmark in the part of France which
we were traversing, continuing visible as it does for two or three days
journey with very little alteration of outline. To judge from its
situation on the map, it could not be less than twenty-five or thirty
miles from the place where we stood, though from the deception caused by
its enormous length and height, and not uncommon in mountain scenery, it
appeared accessible in a walk of two or three hours. I well remember, as
an instance illustrative of this deception, the surprise of a Berkshire
servant at Capel Curig, when informed that he really could not take an
evening's walk to the top of Snowdon after littering up his horses, and
return to supper. The effect in question is increased, and rather to the
detriment of picturesque beauty, by the less hazy atmosphere of southern
countries; but I never recollect so strong an instance of it, as in the
view of Mont Ventou of which I am speaking. I was struck also by its
great similarity to drawings which I had seen of AEtna from the Catanian
coast, as well its outline, as the manner in which it rises from a
cluster of satellite hills into the borders of the snowy region. Several
scattered snow-ridges were visible near its top, contrasting curiously
with the effect of the sun's rays reflected from its sides, which,
instead of Campbell's picturesque "cliffs of shadowy tint" appeared a
red-hot stony mass, and might be fancied by a slight effort of
imagination, into AEtna covered with an eruption of burning cinders.

The approach to the celebrated arch of Orange, commemorating Marius's
victory over the Cimbri, is marked by an avenue of Lombardy poplars
which line the high road. The classical and sombre stone pine, which
gives so striking an effect to the tomb of the Scipios (as it is styled)
near Tarragona, would have been more in character as an accompaniment to
this proud monument also; but since the days of [24] Alpheus and his red
silk stockings, the taste for _quelque chose de gentil_ has constantly
poisoned t