The little islands off Hyères look like gems in the clear dark sea. They were known in ancient times as the Stoechades, signifying "the arranged" islands, a name indicative of their position in a line from east to west. The town of Hyères seems tempting enough as a place of quiet residence, but the air is very unhealthy from the marshes in the vicinity.
So far our journey has been pretty close to the sea, but now we quitted the coast for a time, winding through the Montagnes des Maures, with an endless succession of tunnels, yet still obtaining frequent peeps at the coast scenery.
At Fréjus we were greatly pleased at the beautiful ruins of the ancient Roman amphitheatre, quite close to the station: the railway being on a viaduct here enabled us to get a good view, looking downwards. This amphitheatre, though not nearly so large as the coliseum at Rome, is far more perfect. This was the port where, in 1799, Napoleon landed on his return from Egypt; and from whence, fifteen years later, he embarked when banished to Elba. Fréjus was the ancient Forum Julii established by Augustus Cæsar as a naval station.
At Les Arcs we again approached the coast. The country as we drew nearer Cannes is very interesting and romantic—great rocky glens and chasms, with here and there glimpses of the beautiful Mediterranean. It was about here that we first caught sight of the snow-crested Alps, forming a grand and sublime background to the lovely scenery.
Many of the little towns en route are finely and picturesquely situated on the hill-side, overlooking great ravines. Their churches perched on the highest pinnacle, the wonder being how their congregations get to them! But probably many of them are only convents.
What very different lives people lead on this fair earth! What a contrast between the inhabitants of a great city, with its wearing cares and its exciting pleasures, and the dweller in these isolated, peaceful, silent mountain homes! To some the latter life would be intolerable while strength and human passion last; but these poor yet happy people, being nearer to Nature, are often nearer also to Nature's God.
We now pass through groves of olive trees, whose sombre and silver tinted foliage, and wonderfully gnarled and twisted trunks, give quite a foreign tone to the landscape. Also the orange trees, with their green and golden fruit and enchantingly fragrant white blossoms; and the lordly palm, with its graceful outline clearly defined against the blue sky.
It has frequently been a question with me which tree is the most useful to man, especially in the east—the olive, bamboo, palm, or cocoa-nut. The first carries my mind back to pleasant memories of the Holy Land and Mount Olivet, where a single tree is said to bear fruit for more than a thousand years. We know the fine and wholesome oil it yields. Its fruit is used as food, and its beautifully grained wood is highly valued for cabinet purposes. Then the bamboo, which, growing by the water-side, is so refreshing to hear whispering in the breeze, is used for very many purposes, being at once so light and strong; for carrying great burdens, for aqueducts, house-building, musical instruments, and for numerous other purposes and articles useful and ornamental; while the graceful palm, or cocoa-nut, provides food, drink, clothing, and building material. Each doubtless in its region and sphere is equally prized. But the more we examine and understand the bountiful gifts of God for our use and happiness, harmonizing so well with our needs, the greater wonder we feel that there is such an ungrateful animal as an Atheist.
At some of the little railway stations we passed, the Gloire de Dijon and other lovely roses were clustering the walls, and growing almost wild in the hedges, loading the air with their sweet perfume. The days were gradually lengthening, and we felt as if fast approaching a warmer latitude, where—
"The green hills
Are clothed with early blossoms, through the grass
The quick-eyed lizard rustles, and the bills
Of summer birds sing welcome as ye pass;
Flowers, fresh in hue, and many in their class,
Implore the pausing step, and with their dyes
Dance in the soft breeze in a fairy mass;
The sweetness of the violet's deep blue eyes,
Kiss'd by the breath of heaven, seems colour'd by its skies."