climate so warm as this.

The town of Beaucaire has little worthy of notice, except its
Hòtel-de-Ville and church, both of which are handsome buildings. We
crossed the Rhone over the bridge of boats, from which we had a good
view, and arrived at Tarascon.

The château called the Castle of King René, but which was erected by
Louis II, count of Provence, is an object of interest to all who love
to ponder on the olden time, when gallant knights and lovely dames
assembled here for those tournaments in which the good René delighted.

Alas for the change! In those apartments in which the generous monarch
loved to indulge the effusions of his gentle muse, and where fair
ladies smiled, and belted knights quaffed ruby wine to their healths,
now dwell reckless felons and hopeless debtors; for the château is
converted into a prison.

In the Church of St. Martha we saw a relic of the barbarism of the dark
ages, in the shape of a grotesque representation of a dragon, called
the Tarasque. This image is formed of wood, rudely painted in gandy
colours.

Twice a-year it is borne through the streets of Tarascon, in
commemoration of the destruction of a fabulous monster that long
frequented the Rhone, and devoured many of the inhabitants of the
surrounding country, but was at length vanquished by St. Martha; who,
having secured it round the neck by her veil, delivered it to the just
vengeance of the Tarascons. This legend is received as truth by common
people, and our guide informed us that they warmly resent any _doubt_