Before breakfast I went out to catch a momentary glimpse of the city.
The street in which our hotel stands is near a large public square; in
the centre is a bronze equestrian statue of Louis XIV.; and the square
itself is called the Place de Louis le Grand. I wonder where this statue
hid itself while the Revolution was raging in Lyons, and when the
guillotine, perhaps, stood on that very spot.

The square was surrounded by stately buildings, but had what seemed to be
barracks for soldiers,--at any rate, mean little huts, deforming its
ample space; and a soldier was on guard before the statue of Louis le
Grand. It was a cold, misty morning, and a fog lay throughout the area,
so that I could scarcely see from one side of it to the other.

Returning towards our hotel, I saw that it had an immense front, along
which ran, in gigantic letters, its title,--

HOTEL DE PROVENCE ET DES AMBASSADEURS.

The excellence of the hotel lay rather in the faded pomp of its
sleeping-rooms, and the vastness of its salle a manger, than in anything
very good to eat or drink.

We left it, after a poor breakfast, and went to the railway station.
Looking at the mountainous heap of our luggage the night before, we had
missed a great carpet-bag; and we now found that Miss M------'s trunk had
been substituted for it, and, there being the proper number of packages
as registered, it was impossible to convince the officials that anything
was wrong. We, of course, began to generalize forthwith, and pronounce
the incident to be characteristic of French morality. They love a
certain system and external correctness, but do not trouble themselves to