CHAPTER III.
FROM LYONS TO AVIGNON BY THE RHONE.


From Autun to Lyons is a journey that calls for little comment, unless
made, as wise Arthur Young made it a hundred years ago, on horseback;
or unless we take the steamer at Chalon, and enjoy the scenery of the
Saone, Mr. Hamerton's favourite river.

We were too impatient, however, to reach the Causses to stop, even for
the sake of a sail on the Saone, and made haste to catch the very next
_Gladiateur_ bound to Avignon. Why all these Rhone steamers should
be called _Gladiateur_ I don't know, but so it is.

By half-past five this bright August day we are on the deck of the
little steamer, to find a scene of indescribable liveliness and bustle.
All kinds of merchandise were being stowed away--bedding, fruit,
bicycles, bird-cages, passengers' luggage, cases, and packages of every
imaginable description.

A stream of peasants poured in, bound for various stations on the way,
all heavily laden, some accompanied by their pet dogs. First-class
passengers were not numerous. We had an elderly bridegroom, who might
have been a small innkeeper, with his youthful bride, evidently making
a cheap wedding-trip; a family party or two; an excitable man with a
sick wife; a couple of pretty girls with two or three youths--brothers
or cousins; a sprinkling of priests and nuns--that was all. The