It might perhaps be argued that the cessation of donkey-traffic on Sundays is as much due to commercial as to religious scruples. I am not aware that any animals are kept ready for hire at the _Stations des Anes_. These establishments are only dépôts for ass-saddles, where orders can be executed. The donkeys come from the hills in the morning laden with fruits or other articles, in charge of a female; and having done what might be thought a fair day’s work, are ready for hire at the _Stations_, to go on excursions with invalids on their backs to and from places in the neighbourhood. As few visitors employ them on Sunday, it may seem advantageous not to bring them to town on that day. If so, the donkeys have reason to be thankful. These docile creatures, contriving ‘a double debt to pay,’ might be styled the true bread-winners of the peasant proprietary. Travelling by pathways wholly inaccessible to wheeled carriages, they are seen not only bringing down loads of native produce, but carrying up stones, lime, and other building-materials to places two thousand feet above the sea-level. But for these useful animals, the hilly region would be in a great measure valueless. So far as the Riviera is concerned, the ass must be considered to be a beneficent gift of Nature. CHAPTER VII. In making excursions in the neighbourhood it is advisable not to attempt too much in one day. During the season there is plenty time to take things deliberately. A good beginning may be made by a forenoon walk to the Monastery of the Annonciade, or Annunciata. It is situated on the high ridge of the hill between the Carei and Borigo—that hill the front promontory of which is defaced by the buff-coloured, box-like villa dignified with the name of the Château Partouneaux. The pathway to the monastery leads off from the Route de Turin, a short way beyond the railway viaduct, and will be found a curious zigzag lane, fit only for pedestrians or donkeys. To relieve the steepness, the path is formed like a series of steps four to five feet broad, cut in a rude way in the sandstone rock, and now much worn. Winding upward among olive and orange trees, and passing some dwellings, the road has an antiquated broken-down look, significant of the misfortunes of the religious establishment to which it leads.