Vercingetorix and his countrymen, the ancient Gallic speech--even the
time-honoured system of log-floating--are doomed. Instead of being
invited to breakfast with the blue-bloused pleasant driver of the
diligence, I shall expect to find at table-d'hote half a score of
English undergraduates, members of the bicyclist club, or a party of
enterprising ladies from Chicago.

A word about Autun itself, a town that improves marvellously on
acquaintance. This was my third visit, and I found it more attractive
than ever. The beauty of its site is best appreciated from the lower
ground beyond its western suburb. And beautiful it is--the graceful
cathedral, with its airy spire and twin towers, pencilled in soft,
silvery gray against the dimpled green hills, every feature of the
landscape in harmony with it, as if, indeed, made to be in harmony with
it. Turning from the cathedral in an opposite direction, in order to
make the circuit of the city, we realize how grand was the predecessor
of modern Autun the Augustodonum of Gallic Rome. Keeping to this higher
ground, we can follow with the eye the tremendous span of the Roman
wall, fragmentary for the most part, yet perfect in places, and built
neither of bricks nor blocks of stone, but of small stones.

Inside the enclosure we see the mediaeval wall and picturesque watch-
towers of the French king Francis. Picturesque as these are--also the
bits of ordinary domestic architecture between airily-perched dormers,
stone balconies filled with flowers, little terraced gardens rising one
above the other-the mind is too much occupied with the grand Roman
aspect of the place to dwell as yet upon minor points. The circuit of
the city, so made as to visit its two magnificent Roman gateways, and
equally fine so-called Temple of Janus, is beyond the reach of moderate
walkers. All are noble specimens of Augustan architecture, more