easy one. The long drive across the solitary Causse to St. Eminie or
Florac, the four relays of boatmen necessary for the descent of the
Tarn, the doubtfulness of the accommodation at the different halting-
places--all these details had to be considered. Touring it through the
Causses seemed, indeed, beset with difficulties. You have not only to
take food with you for horse and man, but water also--ay, and make sure
that your driver, besides being trustworthiness and sobriety itself,
carries a revolver in his pocket. The Caussenards, or dwellers on these
steppes, are said to be harmless enough, but suspicious-looking tramps
from a distance, who always go in pairs, may sometimes be met. Wayside
inns there are none, and as relays are therefore unattainable, the
traveller must quit civilization as soon as dawn breaks, and contrive
to reach it before overtaken by nightfall. Lastly, during the brief
summer, the heat is torrid, and if you start on your travels towards
its close, say the middle or end of September, today's scorching sun
may be followed by tomorrow's snowstorm. And to be caught in a
snowstorm on the Causses would be an Alpine adventure with no chance of
a rescuing St. Bernard.

Had I been alone I might have ventured, but, as before-mentioned, my
companion was a young French lady confided to my care by her parents.
On the whole, therefore, and with keenest regret, I felt it more
prudent to defer the undertaking, for undertaking it undoubtedly was,
till another year. Next summer, I said to myself, as soon as the snows
were melted, I would again climb the Roof of France. And delightful as
was the society of a bright, amiable, ready-witted girl, I would
instead find a travelling companion of maturer years, and responsible
for her own safety.

There was one compensation within reach. If we could not enter the land