A sea-side health resort without a promenade for loungers along the beach can expect to do little good. What would Brighton have been without its Parades? The Promenade des Anglais has in a sense been the making of Nice. At Mentone, the working out the idea of a promenade was not thought of till it was too late to do the thing rightly on the Nicean principle. The villas and houses lining the south side of the main street were set down in such a way as not to leave a sufficiently commodious space next the sea, the view from which consists to a great extent of irregular outs and ins, and backs of dwellings of various heights. The blunder is irrecoverable. All that has been latterly effected is a Promenade about forty feet wide, retained by a sloping sea-wall, extending from the older part of the town on the east to the Borigo on the west, and forming an unbroken line except at the Carei, which foot-passengers cross by a wooden bridge. Styled the Promenade du Midi, because it faces the south, it is on the whole a creditable effort. It has been strongly represented that ‘they’ should extend the Promenade to Cap Martin, which is quite practicable, and certainly desirable, but whether ‘they’—or, to speak more plainly, the municipality—have means or spirit to undertake so large a public work is somewhat doubtful. Such as it is, the Promenade is a boon to visitors who dwell in the West Bay. If the weather be fine, they are out, as has been said, to enjoy the air and sunshine, also to walk about and exchange courtesies with acquaintances, to see the fisher-people in their picturesque costumes drawing their nets ashore, or to lounge on the seats, and as far as possible think of nothing but the beauty of the sky, and to be lulled with the ceaseless murmur of the waves.