themselves westwards, eastwards, anywhere—the only thing that kept them from falling into utter disorder being the obligation not to encroach on the great Corniche road, or on the cross-way called the Route de Turin. In the scramble for sites, all kinds of mean selfishness came vivaciously into play. Enormous prices were sought for the merest scraps of ground. The rules of inheritance also stood in the way. In and about Mentone it is not uncommon for several members of a family to own a house, a garden, or even a single olive-tree. An inheritance may consist of but one or two branches. Petty and complicated heritages of this kind are not easily dealt with. At any offer to purchase, the proverbial _pretium affectionis_ undergoes a marvellous development. Attempts to effect improvements on a sweeping scale are everywhere difficult without the potent statutory spell of ‘compulsory powers;’ here, from the divisional heritage system, they are scarcely practicable unless central despotic rule interposes. From one cause or another, the opportunity to lay out the newer part of Mentone on a symmetrical plan was lost. The most genial as well as most beautiful spot in the Riviera was architecturally spoiled. There was no attempt to construct buildings in harmony with the surrounding scenery—a too common fault everywhere, but especially to be lamented where Nature has been so prodigal of beauty. The most conspicuous instance of bad taste has been the setting down of a square box-like villa, painted a glowing buff colour, on the top of the pyramidal hill which lies between the valley of the Borigo and Carei. Go where you will, this eyesore stares you in the face—an offensive blotch in the midst of a glorious amphitheatre of gray picturesque mountains. Will the proprietor not take pity on strangers, and at least tone down the colour of his box? For a tint, he has only to look behind at the old château which crowns the heights of Ste Agnes.