Speaking of the adaptability of the Cap for a pleasure-ground, with drives for the enjoyment of visitors, I learned that the land had been put in the way of being saved from exclusive private use by being purchased by a Parisian gentleman, a winter visitor, M. Sabatier, to whom, as well as to his family, Mentone was under many obligations. Having bought the property, he has given the municipal authorities an opportunity to acquire it at the purchased price for the use of the public. Whether the liberal offer will be embraced seems doubtful; for besides the purchase-money, there must be a considerable outlay in forming a proper road along the beach to join the Promenade du Midi. After a little chat on this interesting topic, we walked on, immediately striking upon a narrow road through the forest, differing in some respects from the miry path in the lower grounds. It was bounded by low walls, and here and there we came upon a remnant of pavement with large stones; such being portions of the old Roman road through the country. Excepting what produce might presumably be gathered from the huge olive trees, the district was a waste. Along the road, we met only two or three labouring men going to their work somewhere, to all of whom my companion said: _Bonjour, mon ami_, to which greeting there was a gracious response. ‘I see,’ said I, ‘that you make a point of speaking to every one you meet—I suppose that is the common practice.’ The reply was: ‘Some do it, and some do not. It has been my custom through life to always have a kindly word for every one when walking through the country. It is a bit of civility that gives pleasure. I have never been the worse, but often the better, for it. Years ago, when helping a canvass in Wales, I secured a great many votes from people I knew nothing at all about; the explanation being, as they candidly told me, that I had spoken to them long before, when I asked for and expected nothing. Since I came to France, I have followed the practice, and am the best friend in the world with all the poor people in the neighbourhood.’ ‘The opinion I have formed,’ I said, ‘from a comparatively limited observation, is, that the humbler classes in Mentone and its vicinity are an industrious, quiet, well-disposed people—does that consist with your experience?’ ‘Most assuredly it does: they are old-fashioned in their ways, possess no enterprise, but in all my experience I never saw such a decent, well-behaved people. Crime is almost unknown amongst them.—But here we are at the ruin.’