INTRODUCTORY.


I here propose to zig-zag with my readers through regions of Eastern
France not described in any of my former works. The marvels of French
travel, no more than the _chefs-d'oeuvre_ of French literature, are
unlimited. Short of saluting the tricolour on Mont Blanc, or of echoing
the Marseillaise four hundred and odd feet underground in the cave of
Padirac, I think I may fairly say that I have exhausted France as a
wonder-horn. But quiet beauties and homely graces have also their
seduction, just as we turn with a sense of relief from "Notre Dame de
Paris" or "Le Pere Goriot," to a domestic story by Rod or Theuriet, so
the sweet little valley of the Loing refreshes after the awful Pass of
Gavarni, and soothing to the ear is the gentle flow of its waters after
the thundering Rhone. Majestic is the panorama spread before our eyes as
we pic-nic on the Puy de Dome. More fondly still my memory clings to
many a narrower perspective, the view of my beloved Dijon from its
vine-clad hills or of Autun as approached from Pre Charmoy, to me, the
so familiar home of the late Philip Gilbert Hamerton. If, however, the
natural marvels of France, like those of any other country, can be
catalogued, French scenery itself offers inexhaustible variety. And so,
having visited, re-visited, and re-visited again this splendid hexagon
on the European map, I yet find in the choice of holiday resorts a
veritable _embarras de richesses_. And many of the spots here described
will, I have no doubt, be as new to my readers as they have been to
myself--_Larchant_ with its noble tower rising from the plain, recalling
the still nobler ruin of Tclemcen on the borders of the
Sahara--_Recloses_ with its pictorial interiors and grand promontory
overlooking a panorama of forest, sombre purplish green ocean unflecked