26 



surprised to find not a single trace of conglomerate or breccia anywhere. 

 Again excursing to gain a clearer notion of the nature of the soil, we 

 see every condition, from coarse gravel, like the shingle on the shore, 

 to the downright pudding-stone rock, which our feeble appliances refuse 

 to break. 



Unprepared to explain these phenomena, we leave Science for a time 

 and turn to Literature. Our will takes us along a road once the 

 admired track of the Roman legions ; straight on to the goal, and by 

 the shortest way, they level the rock which opposes them, and turn the 

 angles of the mountains that they cannot climb ; we see the ledge 

 they have hewn, and the rugged rocks not yet worn smooth, which they 

 were contented with as pavement ; we almost sigh as we find our ideas 

 of the Via Aurelia reduced in dimensions, and conclude that our 

 notions of a good road, and that of the Eomans were widely different, 

 — a thought which is the prelude to many another respecting the 

 meanings we ;5ive to adjectives used by the Roman authors, and the 

 meanings the writers themselves had. We reach the Corniche road, 

 and find it comes up to our idea of a wonderful work of art, and look 

 back with almost contempt on the puny efforts of the Latins. Yet a 

 few moments given to reflection show that their work was probably 

 superior to ours, considering the materials they had at command ; and 

 in pondering on the advantages gunpowder has given to the arts of 

 peace as well as to the art of war, we reach another hill, whose sides 

 give no evidence of deposit of gravel, and on topping its summit we 

 see many a town of vast importance in days gone by. Perched on 

 almost inaccessible rocks, they formed the strongholds for the people 

 around ; yet a glance at their position shows that they could never 

 have stood a siege, from want of water. 



We take another walk along the river side, and as we reach the 

 mountains we see huge walls of stratified rock, the strata lying at an 

 angle of seventy degrees, and presenting at one part a hard slate and 

 at another a soft shingle, and discover how the one gives the boulders and 

 the other the mud to the rushing torrent. By and by we ford the 

 stream, and make our v?ay to Chateauneuf, (as the guide-book remarks,) 

 "a town of some importance during the middle ages, now a ruin." After 

 a toilsome ascent, and many a pause to admire the scenery around, and 

 the frowning walls of the stronghold, we come to the city on the hill, 

 and reach the town gate. We find that the place consists of a stireet 

 running along the summit of a razor-backed hill, and that the street is 

 barely a yard wide, and that its town-wall is formed by the outer wall 

 of the houses. No beaten track, even practicable for mules, can be 

 found leading to, or from the gate. A tolerably experienced mountain 



