248 f THE LIFE OF JAMES D. FORBES. [CIIAP. 



diately quoted as that of my great/' compatriote," who 

 had interested everyone in my country. Even at Jaujac, 

 where I had, as usual, given myself out for a Scotchman, 

 a pettifogging notaire, whom I met at dinner, immediately 

 quoted " Le Tay " and "La Clyde" as classic streams. 

 This is a sort of fame to which I scarcely think Scott 

 attains in our country, and surely it is the highest of any. 

 Even among the wild lava streams of the Vivarais he has 

 made his country known and its natives honoured/ 



A few days more, and Forbes had quitted, with regret, 

 the beautiful valleys of the Ardeche, and, after a short 

 fitay at Marseilles, began to make his way northwards 

 towards the Monte Viso, by one of whose passes it was 

 his intention to descend into the valleys of Piedmont. 



Journal, June 29. 



' I provided myself with a guide from Meyronnes, and 

 started to cross the Col de Maurin to St. Veran a most 

 picturesque and striking route, especially at one point 

 above the village of St. Paul, where the river rushes 

 through a narrow gateway in the limestone rock. . . . 

 Higher up the valley is choked by a mass of debris, 

 a fallen mountain, which descended, it is said, in the fif- 

 teenth century, and has evidently caused the formation of 

 the Lac de Paroi. There, the cultivation of corn ends ; 

 then comes a narrow pass, which is succeeded by a more 

 open pastoral valley, extending several miles to the Col 

 de Louget, leading by an extremely gentle ascent into 

 Piedmont. In this pastoral valley I saw several masses 

 of serpentine interposed in limestone, and about to be 

 worked for ornamental purposes. 



' Having reached the head of the valley, instead of 

 crossing the Col de Louget, I turned to the left, and pro- 

 ceeded to ascend abruptly to the Col de la Cula, leading 

 to St. Veran. The ascent was not very agreeable, for after 

 very steep grass slopes abounding in marmots' holes, came 

 patches of soft snow, into which we sunk knee-deep, 

 and then beds of soft mud, from which the snow had 



