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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



The Hotel Dent du Midi, Champery's 

 largest and most modern hostelry, is the 

 best point of vantage for such a survey. 

 Choosing a comfortable chair from be- 

 neath its striped awnings, we call a 

 waitress wearing one of the typical scar- 

 let kerchiefs on her head to bring us tea. 

 While waiting we may listen to the or- 

 chestra and marvel at the many coun- 

 tries of the world represented in this 

 small corner of it. The English and 

 French element predominate, and as yet 

 the American is in the minority, but elec- 

 tricity, steam heat, and all the commodi- 

 ties of modern life that especially recom- 

 mend a place to his luxury-loving heart 

 are fast doing away with its former 

 simplicity. What a field in which to 

 study human nature, national character- 

 istics, and that intangible something 

 which stamps indelibly the types of each 

 country for its own. 



There goes a former prime minister of 

 Austria off for a walk with his beautiful 

 wife, his fox terriers bounding in glee 

 at his heels. A distinguished Roman 

 and his two sons are returning from an 

 all-day climb, their arms filled with Al- 

 pine roses. Here comes an English army 

 ofificer, pack on back and alpenstock in 

 hand, off with his guide for "the Dent." 

 A little Indian princess tosses a bit of 

 cake to her squirming and anticipatory 

 dachshund. Out in the garden four hila- 

 rious Parisiennes are settling their ac- 

 counts at bridge. A Greek countess 

 flicks the ashes from her cigarette, as 

 she sips her tea in company with a young 

 Roumanian. An Italian admiral strolls 

 into the "poste," and the inevitable 

 American girl returns from tennis. So 

 one might continue indefinitely, for Swiss, 

 Dutch, Russian, Hungarian, and even 

 Egyptian are all represented in this out- 

 of-the-way little place to such an extent 

 that during the annual tennis tournament 



lodging of any sort, be it ever so homely- 

 or primitive, is at a premium. 



It is in June, however, that Champery 

 is at its loveliest. Then the fields are 

 carpeted with masses of wild flowers of 

 the most extraordinary beauty and vari- 

 ety, delicate orchid-like blossoms that 

 might have been hot-house grown mixing 

 with the more sturdy ones, and it is with 

 real regret that one sees them swept 

 away by the relentless scythe in haying 

 time. In the heart of the village lies the 

 newly restored parish church, with its- 

 unique and ancient crown-capped bell- 

 tower, from which a veritable chaos of 

 chimes peal forth on feast days. 



Mention of Champery would not be- 

 complete without a word as to its favor- 

 ite strolls, the "Petit" and "Grand Para- 

 dis" — two lovely wooded spots by the 

 rapid Vieze, where one may sit beneath 

 the pines and listen to its noisy music — 

 and "les Galeries," a natural rock forma- 

 tion in the sheer cliff rising from the- 

 right bank of the river, and from which 

 a splendid view of the village is to be 

 had. 



But it is toward the east, a half hour 

 distant, that we wend our way most fre- 

 quently, for there lies "Le Calvaire," a. 

 stone cross set upon a projecting knoll 

 which dominates the entire Val d'llliez 

 far down to the peaceful Valley of the 

 Rhone and across to the distant peaks 

 of Chaussy, Gummfluh, and the Mont 

 d'Or glistening in the sun. From this 

 point, midwa_, between the valley and 

 the mountains, seated beneath that cross,, 

 eternal symbol of death, one may best 

 watch the mystery of the departing sun 

 as it sinks behind the Col de Coux. Then 

 the veil that hangs all day before the- 

 Dent du Midi lifts, and the dying rays 

 slowly flood the mountains' cold, dead 

 whiteness with the rosy glow of life and 

 eternal promise. 



