To a stranger from a northern region, the striking thing about the climate is, that during the day, while the sun brilliantly shines, there is a feeling of, and a resemblance to, a fine autumn—say the heat of an English September; but no sooner does the sun disappear below the Mediterranean, than we are back in a minute to our old accustomed wintry sensations. Why the atmosphere does not retain the heat imparted by the sun’s rays is perfectly obvious. The air is so dry and thin that there is little medium for retaining the warmth, and the heat generated escapes in the clear sky overhead. What we have to expect, therefore, by a winter sojourn in Mentone, is a species of summer while in the direct rays of the sun, during daylight; and it is our own blame if we suffer by neglecting the precautions suggested by the chills which settle down immediately after sunset. It is, however, to be borne in mind, that the cold of evening and night is only comparative. In an atmosphere so rarefied, a temperature of 40° to 60° Fahr. feels more chilly than the same degree of cold in Great Britain. The feelings and discreet apprehensions are a better warning than a recollection of temperature according to the scale of the thermometer. In the shade during the day there is a sensation of bleakness, approaching to that felt at night. Accordingly, to secure the full benefit of the climate, it is indispensable to have rooms with less or more of a southern exposure. No temptation of cheapness must induce the health-seeker to occupy apartments facing the north, or under the shadow of buildings which exclude the glow of sunshine. The sun rises earlier and sets later at Mentone during winter than it does in England, a circumstance favourable to invalids and outdoor promenaders. If the weather be good, the sunshine from half-past ten to half-past three o’clock is delicious, and with the clear sky all nature is joyous. Sometimes the rays of the sun are so inconvenient, that many persons walk about under the shelter of white cotton parasols lined with blue or green, and with hats shrouded in white gauze. It is during such warmth that the visitors pour forth to ramble along the Promenade, and make short excursions on foot or on donkeys, or drive about in open carriages. Those who prefer to remain within doors, throw the windows open, from floor to ceiling, and so far enjoy the pleasures of fresh air. The fire, if lit in the morning, is at these times allowed to die out, and the inmates have the satisfaction of depending exclusively on the wholesome warmth of the sun. To derive as much benefit as possible from the open air without bodily exertion, loungers seat themselves on benches (with backs) commodiously placed for public use on the Promenade, near the margin of the sea, the surging of which on the shingle diffuses saline particles in the atmosphere advantageous to some classes of invalids.