[15] In Mr. Birrel’s interesting Life of Dr. Brock, a man of great power and, I believe, of much liberality of mind, the following passage (p. 241) occurs in reference to a Sunday in crossing the Atlantic:—’Next day was all that a Sunday at home could be. We had service, Mr. Nolan again officiating—the captain, however, this time reading the prayers himself. One thing struck me painfully: when the absolution came to be read, the captain gave way to the priest, who alone stood and alone spoke; he alone had authority in the great matter of remission. The captain had none. Of what is this the germ?’

[16] A French kilometre is equal to 1093·633 yards; an English mile is 1760 yards. Two miles are therefore more than three kilometres, and two kilometres are equal to about one mile and a quarter (1¼). But all the foreign measures differ, and it is puzzling therefore to know from the railway guides and others what are the distances in English miles. A uniform mileage system would be exceedingly useful. In fact, the statesman who could effect uniformity in measures, weights, and coinage throughout Europe, would do more real good than is obtained by more glittering acts.

[17] Vide Figuier’s World before the Deluge, p. 317.

[18] I have seen the numbers produced by a single insect in the course of a year stated in a newspaper, but unfortunately did not preserve a note of the information, which is not given in the usual books about insects.

[19] It would be hardly possible for me to give from recollection a complete list of all the hotels and pensions in Mentone, but I may note some at least of the most prominent. Having had friends in many of them, we had occasional opportunities of seeing them, and learning a little regarding them; but only residence in each could enable anybody to speak authoritatively, and therefore observations now made must be taken in a very general way, and subject to all allowances, and as perhaps mistaken.

At the extreme west, the Pavillon is, I believe, a well-appointed hotel; but it is fully half a mile outside the town, to some a recommendation. Between it and a small house, now called the Hotel Anglo-Americaine, near to the Boirigo Bridge, there are several elegant villas, some of them to let furnished. East of this bridge, facing the promenade, are the Pension Condamine (small and moderate) and some other minor houses and pensions; then the Hotel de Russie (one on Gaze’s list); and crossing the Carrei, the first house beyond, and overlooking the public gardens, is called the Pension Americaine, in reality an hotel, with good cuisine, kept by an active, clever, and attentive landlady; near to it, the Pension Camous, a tall, overtopping, narrow building, at which the town street may be said to commence; adjoining it, the Pension or Hotel de Londres; and a little farther east, and more in town, the Hotels Westminster, Victoria, and Menton—all large, and, I believe, expensive; and, last of all, the Hotel du Midi. Beyond the Promenade, close to the market-place, and not far from the harbour, the Hotel Bristol. With the exception of the two last, all have gardens of more or less size between them and the promenade, and all have access on the other side to the public street.

Back from or on the other side of the main street, there are many other hotels and pensions, among which may be mentioned, west of the Carrei, the Splendide (on Gaze’s list), a comfortable hotel within a garden; the Hotel du Parc, on the avenue leading to the railway station, with good rooms, although the entrance or site is not promising. On the east side of the Carrei and some way up beyond the railway, which it dominates, the Hotel du Louvre, a large, well-appointed hotel, apparently frequented by Germans and Dutch; behind it, and rather higher, there is the great Hotel des Îles Britanniques, commanding good views, in every respect first class, patronized by the English (though not exclusively so, one long table being set for the English and another long one for the foreigners). The landlord claims it to be the most expensive hotel in Mentone. Both these last-mentioned hotels are near to the railway station, but carriages have to make a circuit to reach them. Both are under shelter of an olive-covered hill rising high and steep immediately behind, which also affords similar shelter to the Hotels des Princes, Venise, D’Orient, Turin, and others, lying nearly in a line to the eastward. The D’Orient and Turin have both gardens in front,—that of the former is large, and in the garden of the latter a bed of roses flourishes in full flower all the winter through. Both are good houses, but the views from the windows and grounds are confined, and street houses shut them out almost entirely from the view of the sea. If, however, view be not considered important, the position is comparatively sheltered. There are also about this part several pensions, such as the ‘Des Alpes,’—a small house, and moderate charges.

In the east bay, after passing the old town, which in the afternoon always casts a dank shadow on the part of the road which underlies it, called the Quai Bonaparte, requiring the invalid to take special precautions, and passing the drain pipe, the first hotel met is the Grande Bretagne, one of the oldest houses. It is that upon Cook’s list for Mentone, and consequently seems to be always well filled. Up on the height behind, a little to the eastward, are the Hotels d’Italie and Belle Vue, both comfortable; but the ascent to them is steep, the fatigue being, however, rewarded by the fine view from the terraces and windows. Returning to the road below, which is a part of the Corniche, we observe the East English Church, and next to it the Hotel de la Paix close to the street, but having a garden to the back. Facing it across the road is the only bathing establishment of Mentone. Adjoining its east side, but back from the road within a garden, the Hotel des Anglais where Dr. Bennett obtains his quarters. A little beyond, a small piece of ground, probably an acre in extent, has recently been acquired and laid out as a public garden, in which the band occasionally plays; and amidst a cluster of other hotels and pensions farther east, the Grand Hotel, a comfortable, large house, charging moderately. If the visitor prefer or is recommended to reside in the east bay, he will find the extreme east (called the Quartier Garavent, though so much farther from town, and though hot and dusty) is the choicer situation. There is, however, an omnibus to town every hour from the far east to about the Hotel du Pavillon, at the extreme west end.

[20] A recently-published guide-book to the south of France says, with regard to Mentone:—’A kind of gloom pervades Menton. The strip of ground on which it stands is narrow, and so are the streets.’ ‘The valleys are narrow and sombre. The roads up the mountains are steep, badly paved, and are generally traversed on donkeys, which go slowly and require so much chastisement that an ordinary walker will find it less fatiguing to dispense with them.’ It also sets down the population at 12,000, and that of Cannes, by far the larger town, at 7000. These are statements which require revision, as they do not accord with the facts.

[21] See Frontispiece.