Although hitherto styled a sea-port, Mentone has little pretension to that character. The few small craft that belong to it are, along with the fishing-boats, drawn up high and dry at an open space adjoining the beach. After being in a primitive way delivered of their cargoes—barrels of wine, for instance, being lowered overboard and floated to dry land—the vessels are tugged up the ascent to their resting-place by a windlass, at which men, women, and children lend their assistance. Last winter, the French government commenced to form a harbour with landing quays; the first step taken being to lay down a tramway along the beach for conveyance of blocks of stone from Cap Martin. The tramway was so insufficiently executed that the greater part was washed away by the storm on the night of the 21st of December. It was replaced on a better footing, and the works were begun. Whether they will endure the impetuous battering of the heavy rolling waves may be gravely doubted. The spot selected adjoins the old martello tower, which remains invulnerable on the ledge of rocks in front of that medieval old town of which it was once the protector. Possessing in some degree a resemblance to the steep and crowded lanes of the older parts of Edinburgh, I made this ancient town a kind of study. Originally walled for defence, it consists, as has been said, of a dense cluster of tall tenements, rising pile above pile from the sea-shore to the summit of one of those low hills which stand out in advance of the higher mountains. From the modern street, forming part of the thoroughfare of the Corniche, we ascend into this strange mass of buildings by steep paved lanes, which turn and wind in different directions, until we reach the top, where, on the site of the ancient castle, is found the cemetery of the town, from which there is an extensive prospect over sea and land.