ding in the
old-fashioned diligence which runs between Alais and Florac--for the
district is altogether beyond the reach of railways--a French
contractor, accompanying a band of Italian miners, whom he was taking
into the mountains to search for minerals, pointing to the sterile
rocks, exclaimed to us, "Messieurs, behold the very poorest district
in France! It contains nothing but juniper-bushes! As for its
agriculture, it produces nothing; manufactures, nothing; commerce,
nothing! _Rien, rien, rien!_"

The observation of this French _entrepreneur_ reminds us of an
anecdote that Telford, the Scotch engineer, used to relate of a
countryman with reference to his appreciation of Scotch mountain
beauty. An English artist, enraptured by the scenery of Ben MacDhui,
was expatiating on its magnificence, and appealed to the native guide
for confirmation of his news. "I dinna ken aboot the scenery," replied
the man, "but there's plenty o' big rocks and stanes; an' the kintra's
awfu' puir." The same observation might doubtless apply to the
Cevennes. Yet, though the people may be poor, they are not miserable
or destitute, for they are all well-clad and respectable-looking
peasants, and there is not a beggar to be seen in the district.

But the one country, as the other, grows strong and brave men. These
barren mountain districts of the Cevennes have bred a race of heroes;
and the men are as simple and kind as they are brave. Hospitality is a
characteristic of the people, which never fails to strike the visitor
accustomed to the exactions which are so common along the hackneyed
tourist routes.

As in other parts of France, the peasantry here are laborious almost
to excess. Robust and hardy, they are distinguished for their
perseverance against the obstacles which nature constantly opposes to
them. Out-door industry being suspended in winter, during which they
are shut up in their cabins for nearly six months by the ice and snow,
they occupy themselves in preparing their wool for manufacture into
cloth. The women card, the children spin, the men weave; and each
cottage is a little manufactory of drugget and serge, which is taken
to market in spring, and sold in the low-country towns. Such was the
industry of the Cevennes nearly two hundred years since, and such it
remains to the present day.

The people are of a contented nature, and bear their poverty with
cheerfulness and even dignity. While they partake of the ardour and
str