the stipend or aid of the farmer. France is right in diffusing the people over the surface of the country, instead of accumulating them in towns. England's segregation of masses in cities and towns is to be deplored. It is bad in theory, is vicious in practice, and it is exhaustive of the resources of the world.

Lyons. It was my lot to arrive in Lyons on my way to Geneva on a Saturday evening. I do not like travelling on Sunday except where. it is really unavoidable (and how few are the cases in which it is absolutely necessary to travel on Sunday). I decided to remain in this the capital of the south. I heard of Lyons as the great seat of the silk manufacture in France, where it is said there are 120,000 persons, out of a population of under 300,000, employed in this branch of textile fabrics. The process of silk manufacture is nearly all human labour the thread is so delicate that no mechanism yet invented has superseded the human hand and its accompanying digits. Lyons does not give you the slightest idea of a manufacturing town, at least in the sense which we are prone to attach to it. There are no tall chimneys vomiting out that abomination-smoke. There is none of that heavy, murky, lurid atmosphere which hangs over Leeds, and gives you the idea that the bricks which compose the outside of the houses are second-hand bricks, which originally fulfilled their function in the inside of some defunct chimney. In Lyons all is clean and bright; she sits like a mistress at the affluence of the Saone and the Rhone; for miles above the point of junction there is a flat peninsula, gradually widening as the courses of the streams separate. The

traveller from Paris to Lyons can, if he wishes, leave the train either at Chalon-sur-Saone, which is seventy-seven miles above Lyons, or at Macon, which is forty-one miles from Lyons, and come down the Saone by steamer. The impediment is the loss of time. The traveller arrives at either place in the afternoon, and must wait for the steamer until the morning, when he can leave Chalon-sur-Saone at six, or Macon at nine A.M., and reach Lyons in eight hours from the former, or five hours from the latter place. The difference in fare will more than pay the night's expenses; and if he has time at his disposal, he will make a nice division of the journey, and save his pocket; two operations, which most travellers will gladly effect. Either would, however, have involved me in Sunday travelling, and I therefore came on to Lyons by the train which arrived on Saturday night. It so happened that a fête was being.celebrated in the Place Napoléon, upon which the railway debouches. The Place Napoléon runs from the Saone to the Rhone, each river being crossed by a light suspension-bridge. The supporters of the wire cables sustaining the central portion of each bridge are granite obelisks. The whole structure appears very aerial and spidery, when viewed from the more substantial railway bridges which cross lower down. I took up my abode at the Hôtel de l'Univers, which adjoins the railway station, and had no reason to regret my choice. I had most comfortable apartments and excellent attendance. The mistress is so anxious to cultivate an English acquaintance, that she is learning English from a young lady now with her, and can convey her meaning pretty well in the English language. She understands what is said to her,

E

I was anxious to be astir early in the morning, to try and gain a view of Mont Blanc from the height of Fourvieres on the west of the Saone. The river runs from Macon through a flat country until it approaches Lyons, when it passes through more broken scenery. The hill is cut down almost perpendicularly to the stream about two miles above its confluence with the Rhone, and forms a very beautiful object. The railway passes in a tunnel under this hill. When I began dressing, I found Lyons enveloped in fog, and I feared a visit to Fourvieres would hardly repay the needful exertion. I therefore ordered breakfast, in the hope that the fog might clear away. That which hung over the city gradually lessened, and after breakfast I crossed the Place Napoléon, through Place Louis XVIII. into Place Louis lé Grand, which used to be considered one of the finest civic squares in Europe. The trees were lovely, and the flower-beds were radiant with blossom; the gardeners were watering the flowers, bunches of which were offered for sale. Several shops were open, but I was glad to find so many closed, and to learn that there was a growing disposition to avoid business on the Sabbath. I was, however, struck with the stream of people, all coming in the same direction, all bearing fruit or vegetables of some description; there were old men and young men, matrons, maids, and children, flowing on, and all similarly laden. I resolved to breast the stream, and found on passing out of the Place Louis lé Grand to the Saone, that there was along the Quai des Célestins, which is planted with rows of trees, a long cortége of farmers' carts, stowed as close as possible. Under the trees was a platform raised a couple of steps.

The carts were backed in,

FRUIT AND VEGETABLES.

51

and the horses, ponies, mules, and donkeys stood with their faces out. Under these trees were the baskets of the farmers and a large crowd of buyers. Here was to be seen all that the petit farmers of the neighbourhood could produce. There was no commerce in the ordinary sense, that is, profit made by a class intervening between the producer and the consumer, but the articles passed from one class to the other, the consumer getting that which he wanted at the lowest price, the producer receiving the highest market value for his produce. Here were to be seen potatoes of different sorts arranged in baskets, parsnips, carrots, turnips, onions, peas, haricot beans, kidney beans, cauliflowers, pot-herbs of various sorts; and here, too, were to be found the vivid crimson tomato, the rich green capsicum, grand melons, grapes of various sorts, apples, pears, some very large and luscious-looking peaches, plums, and strawberries. The scene was a busy but most interesting one. Many would have wished that there was a Nehemiah who would put a stop to this traffic on the Sunday, and thus give a day's rest to the animals and the people. The horses, ponies, mules, and even donkeys, some with a smooth coat, others as rough as need be wished, all looked well, and gave evidence of being judiciously cared for. The articles sold would be enjoyed in the highest perfection by being used fresh. The French have in their climate, and vast variety of vegetables, the best elements for good cookery. The stream of satisfied customers flowed on to the city; the vacant baskets were replaced in the cars. At nine o'clock a gang of men in a sort of uniform, with long brooms, commenced to sweep up the débris, and in a few moments the carts were all vanished, the Boulevard

was empty, swept, and clean for the afternoon promenaders. The market was a striking proof of the bounty of God and the industry of man. There was an abundant supply of much that is delicious to the palate, of those fruits which our first parents tasted in their innocence in that garden which was furnished for them with all manner of fruits, when naked and unprotected they wandered among the shrubs and culled from the rich abundance around them that which they desired.

The heavy mist had rolled back from the city, and the morning sun came out with great power. Crossing the river by the Pont de Tilsit, I looked in to the fine old cathedral where the early worshippers were gathering. It is a great pity that this cathedral is so badly placed; it is pent in with wretched houses, actually built up against it. I prepared to ascend the Fourvieres, which is here approached by steps; one enormous straight row was appalling to look at, but I commenced, and as I got onward my pulse beat quicker and my lungs played faster the sun shone out, and I was soon warm and weary. At the top of the steps was a fountain. I fancied I had reached the top, and found a gate which offered a short passage to the upper city, and having paid a demi-sous, I entered, to find that a higher ascent was before me, either by steps or a series of inclined planes. I preferred the latter, and found each turn presented a new view. The Saone was immediately beneath, then the city of Lyons, then the Rhone, and the country stretched away to the foot of the Alps; and Mont Blanc, the monarch of mountains, can be seen on a clear day, but the haze hid it from my sight. Just at this moment the bells of