x horses necessary, and tempted us to
wish for warmer clothing. The morning, however, was beautifully clear
and bright; and Mont Blanc, which is perceptible even from the low level
of the river, was without a cloud. To the right, the Beaujolois hills,
at the foot of which Macon stands, accompanied us as far as Trevoux,
presenting an outline not unlike that of our own Malverns; but more
varied and rich, as well as occasionally more lofty, and sprinkled with
thousands of white farm-houses and villas: many of the parts are
similar, and almost equal, to the hills which front Florence on the
Fiesole side.

At noon we stopped to breakfast, or rather dine, at Trevoux. Here the
Beaujolois hills (or, at least, a range which runs in an uniform line
with them) recede, and conduct the eye to a distant vista of higher
mountains, toward the south; while, to the left, the river takes a
sudden turn among the steep but cultivated sides of the Limonais. This
curve brought us all at once upon such a green sunny nook, as might have
served for the hermitage of Alexander Selkirk, in the island of Juan
Fernandez; in the centre of which stands Trevoux, crowned by the ruins
of an old castle, and overlooking the beautifully fertile valley which
skirts the foot of the Limonais hills. From its situation, and the form
and disposition of its houses, piled tier above tier to the top of a
woody bank, Trevoux affords a perfect idea of a little Tuscan town. The
Hotel du Sauvage, and the Hotel de l'Europe, are equally well
frequented; and, like Oxford pastry-cooks, take care to employ the fair
sex as sign-posts to their good cheer. Each inn has its couple of
waiting-maids stationed at the waterside, in the costume of
shepherdesses at Sadler's Wells, full of petits soins and agremens, and
loud in the praises of their respective hotels. By these pertinacious
damsels every passenger is sure to be dragged to and fro in a state of
laughing perplexity, like Garrick, contended for by the tragic and comic
muse, in Sir Joshua's well-known picture; nor do their persecutions
cease, till all are safely housed. We went to the Hotel de l'Europe,
whose table may be supposed not deficient in goodness and variety, from
the specimen of one man's dinner eaten there. I shall enumerate its
particulars, without attempting to decide on the question so often
canvassed, whether our neighbours do not exceed us in versatility and
capacity of stomach. Our young Falstaff then (for i