The humbler operations of the day-labourers employed on the tramway were on an awkward, and to us amusingly rude scale; the implements they used were such as an English navvy would have treated with disdain. In rough manual operations, things are far behind, and we are painfully reminded of the fact, that a country may excel in science and the fine arts, and yet not be acquainted with the use of a shovel and wheelbarrow. The man who repairs the roadway of the Promenade does so by the slow and painful process of bringing small basketfuls of shingle on his shoulder from the beach, thus taking days to perform what, under a more intelligent system, might be effected in a few hours; and, after all, the thing is badly done. There is not that amount of knowledge which prescribes making provision for water to run off to each side; the consequence being that, after rain, the roadway is in pools. To make up for the absence of local public spirit, the central authorities in Paris beneficently prepare and circulate a news-sheet gratuitously all over France. It is designated the _Moniteur des Communes_, and resembles a page of a newspaper, closely printed in columns. Dispersed from the Ministry of the Interior, it is stuck up as a placard in every commune. Besides scraps of news on such subjects as the opening of the Suez Canal, the paper contained, when I saw it, a variety of information regarding movements in commerce and agriculture, with advices as to the treatment of vines. The thing is really well done and well meant, but so far as Mentone is concerned, it experiences the usual fate of all that is given for nothing. Although this sheet is regularly stuck up at the market-place, no one is ever seen reading it—not that the people despise the information which is offered, but because it is not their practice to read anything.