make us forgive the ungallant refrain of Pierre Dupont's famous song:
'J'aime bien Jeanne, ma femme, mais j'aimerais mieux la voir mourir,
que de voir mourir mes boeufs' (I love my wife Jane, but I would rather
see her die than my oxen).

The best plan for the tourist wishing to see the Morvan is to hire one
of the light carriages called a caleche, and drive, not only round the
country so called, but right through--a journey occupying about a
fortnight when leisurely made.

Travellers pressed for time may, however, visit Chateau-Chinon in a day
from Autun. This five hours' drive to the former capital of the Morvan,
one continued ascent, gives one an excellent idea of the Morvandial
scenery, and in clear weather is delightful. From the not too
comfortable coupe of the cumbersome old vehicle, we come ever upon
wider and more magnificent prospects; on either side are brilliant
green pastures, watered by little rivers clear as crystal, lofty alders
fringing their banks, and the grand white oxen pasturing peacefully
here and there; beyond these gracious scenes rise wooded hills, or
masses of granite, taking weird forms; while as we journey further on
we get tremendous panoramas, with a background of violet hills. These
heights are about equal to the Cumberland range, the loftiest peak of
the Morvan rising to that of Skiddaw.

Far away the famous Mont Beuvray, the Bibracte of the 'Commentaries'
lying half-way between Chateau-Chinon and Autun, is a bold, grand
outline to day, under a cold, gray sky. Wild crags to climb and
romantic sites abound, also scenes of quiet caressing grace and smiling
pastoralness. Nowhere can be found more beautiful pastures, winding
lanes, tossing streams. The country round about is wonderfully