256 BOARD OF AGRICULTURE. 



"We here come upon the olive, also, and all the way to 

 Marseilles, with the exception of a vast tract of barren sand, 

 the olive grows with luxuriance. The fig also grows here so 

 easily that it is seen in the most barren sands and rocks, 

 clinging as tenaciously as our white birch or the pine. I was 

 astonished to see fine shrubs loaded with figs along the railway, 

 shooting up wherever a vacant spot could be found, and hardy 

 as a weed. The vine is also to be found here, but it is not so 

 common as farther up the river. Heavy crops of wheat, 

 madder, tobacco and vegetables are seen in every direction. 

 Still farther south, in Provence, the orange and the lemon 

 flourish, but I did not penetrate into that province. 



The way to Marseilles lies through a vast barren tract, 

 extending it is said over thirty thousand acres, but before 

 reaching the great port of the Mediterranean, groves of olives 

 and mulberries begin to reappear, and a large region is covered 

 with orchards of them. The olive grows on a tree often as 

 large as a medium sized apple tree, and where much care is 

 given to it, appears in rows well trimmed or headed in, but 

 when neglected, as we saw it around Nice, grows straggling 

 and wild, and is covered with black warts and a rough bark, 

 like a badly neglected plum tree. 



Passing through one of the longest tunnels in France, we 

 are at once in Marseilles, and in a few minutes riding over the 

 city visiting the most noted churches and cathedrals, the most 

 popular drives, and other points of interest. Here we first 

 lieard through the American consul of the reverses which had 

 befallen our hitherto victorious arms, in the battles near 

 Richmond, and it was with a heavy heart that we left on a 

 pretty little steamer to run round to Nice, the first trip on the 

 blue waters of the Mediterranean. It was a clear summer's 

 night, and we sat long watching the shores on the southern 

 coast of France, and the distant peaks of the Alps, whose lofty 

 spurs reach almost to the sea. 



Early morning brought us into the pretty harbor of Nice, 

 and here, as elsewhere, we lost no time in securing an open 

 carriage for a drive to the objects of interest in the neighbor- 

 hood. It was hot and dusty, but that was to be expected. 

 Nice formerly belonged to Piedmont, but now to France. It is 

 a flourishing city of some thirty-five thousand inhabitants, 



