ture known as _gras-double_, a light gray, glutinous,
nauseating mess, which my companions devoured in
large quantities. A man opposite to me had the dir-
tiest fingers I ever saw; a collection of fingers which
in England would have excluded him from a farmers'
ordinary. The conversation was mainly bucolic; though
a part of it, I remember, at the table at which I sat,
consisted of a discussion as to whether or no the maid-
servant were _sage_, - a discussion which went on under
the nose of this young lady, as she carried about the
dreadful _gras-double_, and to which she contributed
the most convincing blushes. It was thoroughly _meri-
dional_.

In going to Narbonne I had of course counted upon
Roman remains; but when I went forth in search of
them I perceived that I had hoped too fondly. There
is really nothing in the place to speak of; that is, on
the day of my visit there was nothing but the market,
which was in complete possession. "This intricate,
curious, but lifeless town," Murray calls it; yet to me
it appeared overflowing with life. Its streets are mere
crooked, dirty lanes, bordered with perfectly insignifi-
cant houses; but they were filled with the same clatter
and chatter that I had found at the hotel. The market
was held partly in the little square of the hotel de
ville, a structure which a flattering wood-cut in the
Guide-Joanne had given me a desire to behold. The
reality was not impressive, the old color of the front
having been completely restored away. Such interest