SO now we were at the ancient city of Vienne as early as three o’clock, and J—— too exhausted to ride farther that afternoon. We never yet went on a long trip, as everybody must or ought to know by this time, that J—— did not break down at least once on the way. The matter threatened to be serious; but after half-an-hour or more of despair—for we thought now surely we are done with sentiment—we went out in search of food, the first and most natural medicine that suggested itself, as in our haste to be out of Lyons we had taken but a meagre lunch.—It is a peculiarity of Vienne, a town of cafÉs, that all its restaurants are on the same street. When we were about giving up the search, we, by chance, turned in the right direction, and found more than a dozen in a row. We chose one that looked quiet, and there J—— ate a bowl of soup and drank a glass of gomme, and at once was himself again.—I have mentioned this affair, slight as it was, because I think the merits of gomme but little known, and therefore hope the knowledge may be of use to other sentimental travellers in similar straits. Besides, it is the rule with cyclers to recommend the most disagreeable drinks that can be imagined, and I believe there is nothing viler than gomme. The truth is, we ordered it by mistake for another syrup the name of which we did not know. And now let there be an end of it.

It was fortunate J—— recovered: there are few pleasanter cities for an afternoon ramble than Vienne. The hills look down from round about the town, here and there a grey castle or white farm-house on their vine-clad slopes, and from the new broad boulevard or old narrow streets you have near and distant views of the rapid RhÔne. Now you come out on the brown crumbling cathedral, raised aloft and towering above the houses, grass growing on the high flight of stone steps leading to its richly sculptured portals, bricks in places keeping together its ruinous walls, time’s traces on its statues and gargoyles. Now, you wander into a clean, quiet Place, from the centre of which a Roman temple, in almost perfect preservation, frowns a disdainful reproach upon the frivolous cafÉs and confectioners, the plebeian stores and lodgings, that surround it. And again, you follow a dark winding alley under a fine Roman gateway, and find yourself in an old amphitheatre, houses built into its walls and arches, and windows full of flowers and clothes drying in the sun.

On the whole, I believe the pleasantest place in all Vienne to be the quai.—The sun had set behind the opposite hills when we returned to it after our walk. A bell jingled close to our ears, and behold, a tricycler, in spotless linen on a shining nickel-plated machine, came that way. But J—— stopped him, and consulted him about the road to Rives; and he, as polite as his machine was elegant, gave us minute directions.—Beware of the road to the left, it is bad and mountainous; keep to the right in leaving the town, then you will have it good and level;—this was the gist of his advice. And then he too must know what time we made, and “Ah, no great thing!” was his verdict upon the bravest feats J—— could invent, and then he rode on into the twilight.