I have no intention of describing Nîmes--a city, perhaps, as familiar to my country-people as any in France; and, indeed, time only permitted of a glance at the beautiful Roman baths, a quite fairy-like scene, the exquisite little Greek temple, [Footnote: Colbert wished to move this lovely little temple to Versailles, bit by bit, and the Cardinal Alberoni demanded that it should be encased in gold.] known under the name of the Maison Carrée, and the amphitheatre. All these have been well and amply described for tourists elsewhere; also the lovely group of Pradier adorning the principal fountain of the town--a modern chef-d'œuvre that may well figure amid so many gems of classic art. The most hurried traveller will, of course, visit one and all. The modern aspect of Nîmes is worthy of note. Distinguished Frenchmen--or, for the matter of that, Frenchwomen--may count with mathematical certainty upon the compensation of earthly ills: they are sure of their statue after death. Nîmes, not behindhand in this appreciative spirit, has recently conferred such honours upon two illustrious sons--Reboul, the artisan poet; and Paul Soleillet, the gallant African explorer. Both monuments are well worth seeing, and both men deserved to be so remembered. One-fourth of the inhabitants of Nîmes are Protestant; but a true spirit of toleration was very slow to make itself felt there. In 1876, for the first time, 'Les Huguenots' was given at the opera-house. Hitherto the experiment had been considered risky. It is strange that the inroads of the phylloxera should have any influence upon the movements of religious bodies, but so it is. Narbonne, in the neighbouring department, has lately lost its Protestant population, most of whom were wine-growers or wine-merchants, ruined by the terrible vine-pest. So complete was the exodus that the ministrations of a pastor were no longer needed. These facts I had from the then _désœuvré_ pastor himself, who was appointed to the cure of souls in the little village of St. Georges de Didonne, at the mouth of the Gironde, during my stay there two years ago. Thankful as the visitor may feel to get away from Nîmes in the dog-days, it should certainly be visited then, otherwise we lose that impression of the South--that warm glow of colour and Oriental languor so new and striking in Northern eyes. For ourselves, we would willingly have lingered days--nay, weeks--in the noble Roman city, but for the heat and our feverish desire to reach that cool, breezy Roof of France, so near, yet so apparently difficult to reach; in fact, the nearer we approached our destination, the more unattainable it appeared. No more at Nîmes than at Avignon could we get an inkling of information as to the best means of reaching the Causses.