oup. From
the fountain arises a beautifully clear stream, which is distributed in
wide and deep stone channels through some of the principal streets at
Nismes, and greatly contributes to the ornament and cleanliness of the
town. The Pharos, or Tour Magne, to which I scrambled from the Baths,
fully answers to its distant appearance. There is a peculiar dignity and
solidity in a figure approaching to the pyramidical, when placed on the
top of a rock; and independent of its height, which is between eighty
and ninety feet, the Pharos has this recommendation also. Its interior
appears a curious work of masonry. A high wide conical vault, without
pillar or buttress, constitutes almost the whole internal space,
admitting just light sufficient to render "the darkness visible," and
give additional solemnity to a mere shell of brickwork.

We found the Hotel du Louvre (to which we had been recommended in
preference to the Hermite's inn, the Hotel du Luxembourg) excellent in
every respect. The two hotels adjoin one another so closely, be it
observed, and are so similar in appearance, that one may walk into the
wrong salle-a-manger, and only discover the mistake through the
difference of the waiter's faces.

May 15.--Seventeen miles to New Lunel, where we breakfasted
indifferently enough, not liking French customs sufficiently to qualify
the bad coffee with a glass of the brandy of this place, which is as
celebrated as its wine. New Lunel, which has grown on the back of the
old town, in consequence of a branch of the Languedoc canal which runs
close to it, is a neat and thriving place, but possesses no feature
worthy of remark. The country is of the same character as the town, a
dull rich flat, over which one may sleep with the soothing consciousness
that every thing is going on well with its trade and agriculture. To
Montpelier eighteen miles. Within the last league or two, the country
begins rather to improve, and rise into somewhat of an undulating form;
but no romantic or interesting feature marks the approach to this
celebrated town.

"How I envy you the sight of that delightful Montpelier, of which one
reads and hears so much!" exclaims many an untravelled lady, no doubt,
to her travelled brother or cousin. No place certainly sounds more
familiarly in the ear as a novel-scene; and its very name is associated
with ideas of beauty, verdure, retirement, orange groves, hanging woods,
and all the et ceteras of a spot.

"Wh