Between Cap Martin and Menton the road skirts the very water’s edge, crossing the Val de Gorbio and entering the town via Carnoles, where the Princes of Monaco formerly had a palace. Modern Menton is like all the rest of the modern Riviera; its streets bordered with luxurious dwellings and hotels, up-to-date shop-fronts, and all the appointments of the age. At the entrance to the city is a monument commemorative of the voluntary union of Menton and Roquebrune with France. Menton is a strange mixture of the old and the new. There are no indications of a Roman occupation here, though some geographers have traced its origin back through the night of time to the ancient Lumone. More likely it was founded by piratical hordes from the African coast, who, it is known, established a settlement here in the eighth century. Furthermore, the “Maritime Itinerary” of the conquering Romans makes no mention of any landing or harbour between Vintimille and Monaco, thus ignoring Menton entirely, even if they ever knew of it. The town is superbly situated in the form of an amphitheatre between two tiny bays, and the country around is well watered by the torrents which flow down from the highland background. After having been a pirate stronghold, the town became a part of the Comté of Vintimille, after the expulsion of the Saracens, and later had for its seigneurs a Genoese family by the name of Vento. In the fourteenth century it fell to the Grimaldi, and to this day its aspect, except for the rather banal hotel and villa architecture, has remained more Italian in motive than French. Menton is not wholly an idling community like Monte Carlo and Monaco. It has a very considerable commerce in lemons, four millions annually of the fruit being sent out of the country. The industry has given rise to a species of labour by women which is a striking characteristic in these parts. Like the women who unload the Palermo and Seville orange boats at Marseilles, the “_porteïris_” of Menton are most picturesque. They carry their burdens always on the head, and one marvels at the skill with which they carry their loads in most awkward places. The work is hard, of course, but it does not seem to have developed any weaknesses or maladies unknown to other peasant or labouring folk, hence there seems no reason why it should not continue. Certainly the Mentonnaises have a certain grace of carriage and suppleness in their walk which the dames of fashion might well imitate.