in London.

The trials was intended to develop that type of vehicle best suited
to touring, and in every way the event was a great success. The
itinerary covered the lovely mountain roads from the Mediterranean to
the Atlantic, and was the immediate inspiration for the author of
this book to follow along the same trail. It is one of the most
delightful excursions to be made in all France, which is saying that
it is one of the most delightful in all the world.

We took our departure from Toulouse, as did the participants in this
famous trial of the year before. Toulouse, the gay capital of the gay
province of old Languedoc, has abounding attractions for the tourist
of all tastes, though it is seldom visited by those who, with the
first swallows of spring-time, wing their way from the resorts of the
Riviera to Biarritz.

[Illustration: Coupe de Pyrenees]

Toulouse has many historic sights and monuments, and a _cuisine_
which is well worth a trip across France. What with truffles and the
famous _cassoulet_ and the _chapons fins de Toulouse_ one forgets to
speak of anything else on the menu, though the rest will be
sufficiently marvellous.

There are three "leading" hotels in Toulouse catering for the
automobile tourist. According to report they are all equally good. We
chose the Capoul, on the Square Lafayette, and had no cause to regret
it. We dined sumptuously, slept in a great ducal sort of an apartment
with a _hygienique_ bedstead (a thing of brass openwork and iron
springs) tucked away in one corner, full fifteen paces from the door
by which one entered--"_Un bon kilometre encore,_" said the _garcon
de chambre_, facetiously, as he showed us up. It promised airiness,
at any rate, and if we were awakened at four in the morning by the
extraordinarily early traffic of the city what did it matter, since
automobiles invariably take early to the road.

It's worth stating here that the _cafe au lait_ at six A. M. at the
Hotel Capoul was excellent. Frequently hotel coffee in the morning in
France (at no matter what hour) is abominable. Usually it is warmed
over from the night before. No wonder it is bad!

Toulouse delayed us not on this occasion. We had known it of old; so
we started a little before seven on a brilliant September morning,
just as the sun was rising over the cathedral towers and
strengthening the shadows on the tree-lined boulevard which leads
eastward via Castlemaudry to the walled city of Carcassonne