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East of Paris - Sketches in the Gâtinais, Bourbonnais, and Champagne by Matilda Betham-Edwards
page 5 of 140 (03%)

MELUN

Scores upon scores of times had I steamed past Melun in the Dijon
express, ever eyeing the place wistfully, ever too hurried, perhaps too
lazy, to make a halt. Not until September last did I carry out a long
cherished intention. It is unpardonable to pass and re-pass any French
town without alighting for at least an hour's stroll!

Melun, capital of the ancient Gatinais, now chef-lieu of the Department
of Seine and Marne, well deserves a visit. Pretty as Melun looks from
the railway it is prettier still on nearer approach. The Seine here
makes a loop, twice curling round the town with loving embrace, its
walls and old world houses to-day mirrored in the crystal-clear river.
Like every other French town, small or great, Melun possesses its outer
ring of shady walks, boulevards lying beyond the river-side quarters.
The place has a busy, prosperous, almost metropolitan look, after the
village just left. [Footnote: For symmetry's sake I begin these records
at Melun, although I halted at the place on my way from my third sojourn
at Bourron.] The big, bustling Hotel du Grand Monarque too, with its
brisk, obliging landlady, invited a stay. Dr. Johnson, perhaps the
wittiest if the completest John Bull who ever lived, was not far wrong
when he glorified the inn. "Nothing contrived by man," he said, "has
produced so much happiness (relaxation were surely the better word?) as
a good tavern." Do we not all, to quote Falstaff, "take our ease at our
inn," under its roof throwing off daily cares, assuming a holiday mood?

A survey of the yard awoke another train of reflections. It really seems
as if the invention of the motor car were bringing back ante-railway
days for the tourist and the travelling world, recalling family coach
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