heat becomes excessive, it is not unusual for these hill-dwellers to quit their small cottages, and live entirely in the open air. A whole family will, gipsy-fashion, bivouac under one of the leafy boughs of a fig-tree, and thus far exemplify in a European country the Asiatic usage referred to in Scripture. Gaining the summit of the _colline_, and passing through a forest of pines, the path at length ascends the face of the mountains, becoming continually more steep until the top of the pass is reached at the small decayed village of Ste Agnes. The circumstance of snow occasionally powdering the summit in winter, appears to have suggested the dedication of the old church to Our Lady of the Snows. By a steep footpath, an ascent may be made to the ruined château, which is perched on the rocky peak. Tradition associates the ruin with a lady, canonised as Ste Agnes, and a redoubtable Saracen chief, the occupant of the castle, whom she Christianised; there is, however, no end of romantic legends of this kind in the Riviera, and any one so inclined might fill a volume with them. The fête of Ste Agnes takes place on the 21st of January, when a miscellaneous concourse gathers for the occasion, some on foot, others on donkeys, while ladies of infirm health are carried up in an arm-chair—the carrying being managed by poles, on the principle of a sedan. The ceremonies include a procession with a large _pomme d’or_, or golden apple; and besides gifts of money, some devotees place an apple covered with gold-leaf on the altar of the saint by way of offering. At the termination of the ceremony, pieces of the apples are freely distributed. M. Pessy, who mentions the fact, is unable to explain the origin of this strange and ancient usage. The peak of Ste Agnes may be considered as the central eminence in the wide semicircle of limestone mountains which shelter Mentone from the north and north-western blasts. It is not nearly the highest of the mountains, but it is prominent and singularly picturesque. In a fine day, the view from it is magnificent, the heights of Corsica being clearly outlined on the southern horizon. We need say nothing special of excursions to Castellare, Castillon, the lofty Berceau, the sunny knolls of Gorbio, Cabrole, or the quiet nooks in the recesses of the different valleys. It is a common practice for a party of visitors, ladies and gentlemen, to go off in the morning for pic-nics to some choice spot, selected for its beauty. Seated under the olive trees, the baskets borne by the donkey-boys are opened, and their contents displayed. The grouping (faintly represented in the vignette frontispiece) is sometimes made matter of tasteful arrangement, and the _tableau vivant_, blended as to colour and figure, brings to remembrance the pictures of Watteau.