A GLIMPSE OF FRANCE. 209 



traveler in a way that is full of novelty and surprise. 

 The clay was bright and lovely, and I found my eyes 

 running riot the same as they had done during my 

 first ride on British soil. The contrast between the 

 two countries is quite marked, France in this region 

 being much more broken and picturesque, with some 

 waste or sterile land, a thing I did not see at all in 

 England. Had I awoke from a long sleep just before 

 reaching Paris, I should have guessed I was riding 

 through Maryland, and would soon see the dome of 

 the Capitol at Washington rising above the trees. 

 So much wild and bushy, or barren and half-cultivated 

 land, almost under the walls of the French capital, 

 was a surprise. 



Then there are few or none of those immense 

 home-parks which one sees in England, the land being 

 mostly held by a great number of small proprietors, 

 and cultivated in strips or long, narrow parallelo- 

 grams, making the landscape look like many-colored 

 patchwork. Everywhere along the Seine, stretching 

 over the flats, or tilted up against the sides of the 

 hills, in some places seeming almost to stand on end, 

 were these acre or half-acre rectangular farms, with- 

 out any dividing lines or fences, and of a great vari- 

 ety of shades and colors, according to the crop and 

 the tillage. 



I was glad to see my old friend, the beech-tree, all 



along the route. His bole wore the same gray and 



patched appearance it does at home, and, no doubt, 



Thoreau would have found his instep even fairer, for 



14 



