Notes on a Tour in France^ Italy, and Elba, 77 



At noon I left Avignon for Nismes, in the diligence. The ride 

 was delightful — the country better cultivated, and more beautiful 

 than any which my eye had yet rested on. The first two miles 

 were on a gradually ascending plain, covered on all sides, and to a 

 great extent, with mulberry and olive trees. The latter, at a little 

 distance, bear some resemblance, both in size and foliage, to our 

 common willow. They were innumerable ; 1 am confident, that be- 

 tween Avignon and Nismes I passed millions of them ; they form, 

 a great part of the way, an almost uninterrupted forest. Wherever 

 the olive occurs, there you may expect to find the vine accompany- 

 ing it ; they occupy the same ground, and flourish well together. 

 This tree is long-lived ; some of the orchards I passed were said to 

 be more than two hundred years old. It is not large, never reaching 

 the size of our largest apple trees. The fig tree was seen in that 

 region, here and there, and the almond tree in vast numbers, loaded 

 with fruit, nearly mature. 



Nismes, called Nemausus when Hannibal was there, is one of the 

 best built, and cleanliest cities of France. It has a population of 

 forty thousand inhabitants, and is celebrated, as you well know, 

 for its antiquities — its oval amphitheatre, four hundred and forty two 

 feet in length, and seventy in height ; its Corinthian temple, and 

 its Roman baths, all in a state of tolerable preservation. I can only 

 say, that every traveller, who visits Italy to see its ancient monu- 

 ments, ought first to visit Nismes. 



My next fifteen miles lay through an almost unbroken wheat field. 

 Few mulberry, or almond, or olive trees were visible, and but little 

 grass. This brought me to a canal, commenced by Napoleon. In 

 a dirty boat, drawn by a single horse, I travelled fifteen or twenty 

 miles ; the diligence then took me up, and brought me to Marseilles, 

 where I embarked on board the new and splendid steamboat Pho- 

 cion, now on her first voyage of pleasure around the Mediterranean. 

 On the first of June we anchored in the bay of Genoa, or Genes, as 

 it is there called, where the city exhibited itself in the most favora- 

 ble point of light. Indeed, its situation, spread out on the sides of 

 lofty, converging mountains, forming a magnificent semi-amphithea- 

 tre, is more eminently beautiful than that of any city I have seen in 

 either hemisphere. Its objects of curiosity are rich and multifari- 

 ous ; its palaces are sumptuously decorated with elegant columns, 

 and statues, and paintings. I looked at them till my eyes were sat- 

 isfied. This, you know, was the birth-place of Christopher Coluin- 



