Luchon 3 1 



dreary prospects which our mountains offer are known to every 

 one; but here the climate clothes them with verdure, and the 

 highest summits in sight are covered with wood; there is snow 

 on still higher ridges. 



Quit the Garonne some leagues before Sirpe, where the river 

 Neste falls into it. The road to Bagnere is along this river, in a 

 very narrow valley, at one end of which is built the town of 

 Luchon, the termination of our journey; which to me has been 

 one of the most agreeable I ever undertook; the good humour 

 and good sense of my companions are well calculated for travel- 

 ling; one renders a journey pleasing, and the other instructive. 

 — Having how crossed the kingdom, and been in many French 

 inns, I shall in general observe, that they are on an average 

 better in two respects, and worse in all the rest, than those in 

 England. We have lived better in point of eating and drinking 

 beyond a question than we should have done in going from 

 London to the Highlands of Scotland, at double the expense. 

 But if in England the best of everything is ordered, without 

 any attention to the expense, we should for double the money 

 have lived better than we have done in France; the common 

 cookery of the French gives great advantage. It is true, they 

 roast everything to a chip, if they are not cautioned : but they 

 give such a number and variety of dishes, that if you do not like 

 some, there are others to please your palate. The dessert at a 

 French inn has no rival at an English one; nor are the liqueurs 

 to be despised. — We sometimes have met with bad wine, but 

 upon the whole, far better than such port as English inns give. 

 Beds are better in France ; in England they are good only at good 

 inns ; and we have none of that torment, which is so perplexing 

 in England, to have the sheets aired; for we never trouble 

 our heads about them, doubtless on account of the climate. 

 After these two points, all is a blank. You have no parlour to 

 eat in; only a room with two, three, or four beds. Apartments 

 badly fitted up; the walls white-washed; or paper of different 

 sorts in the same room ; or tapestry so old as to be a fit nidus for 

 moths and spiders ; and the furniture such that an English inn- 

 keeper would light his fire with it. For a table, you ha\-e 

 everywhere a board laid on cross bars, which are so conveniently 

 contrived as to leave room for your legs only at the end. — Oak 

 chairs with rush bottoms, and the back universally a direct 

 perpendicular, that defies all idea of rest after fatigue. Doors 

 give music as well as entrance ; the wind whistles through their 

 chinks; and hinges grate discord. Windows admit rain as well 



