Monte Carlo: Its Casino and gardens: Leave taking at Mentone of Mr. and Miss Brown: Arrival at Cannes: Meeting Mr. and Mrs. Green: Cannes, its scenery, etc.: Visit to Grasse: Journey to Paris: London: Home, Sweet Home.

It seems as if Nature had lavished her richest treasures on Monte Carlo. Its terraces covered with palms; its orange groves and oliveyards; its massive hotels of marble; its azure sky and ever blue Mediterranean sparkling at its foot. Then there is the Casino, “the gambling hell,” as it has been called. A building upon which no money or care has been spared to make it an attraction, and it has undoubtedly been a success, for thousands throng its rooms daily. We had no difficulty in getting inside. I presented my card to an official in braided coat, who, when he saw it, and had given a look at us, I presume, thought it would be safe to give us admission, and took us to a ticket box where the usual entrance ticket was granted, and we were admitted inside. Oh! what a scene! Tables covered with green baize and marked with figures; the gamblers or players crowded round every table, staking mostly five franc pieces; sometimes one five franc piece and sometimes five. Two men representing the bank with hooks or rakes, drew in the cash, as the Roulette declared for the bank; the winners raking their gains in as the tale of the Roulette was in their favour. The faces of the players were a study and tempted one to moralize and try to predict the effect of this sort of thing on the character of the gamblers. It is an awful thing to be caught in the clutches of a gambling saloon—this one in particular. There are many tables, all full; and crowds round waiting for an opportunity. We went through the vast building, it is richly carpeted and the upholstering is of the best; settees, mirrors, chandeliers, etc., all give to it an appearance of wealth. Monte Carlo is in the territory of Monaco, which is the smallest independent state in Europe at least. It only covers about eight square miles. It formerly included Mentone and Roccabruna, but these have been ceded to France for four million francs. The Palace of the Prince is on the promontory or rock just below the Casino. Surrounding it are some lovely gardens, and the appearance of some protection in the shape of cannon, etc.; these, however, would be useless if they were ever needed. It is said that his chief revenue is from the Casino, which pays him about two hundred thousand pounds per annum. The population under the Prince is now about ten thousand. I took a snap-shot or two, and we strolled about until weary, then we found our way to the tram and in about an hour were in our hotel enjoying table-de-hote. Our time for leaving Mentone had arrived, and again we packed, at least, my little wife did. We said good-bye, with reluctance, to a place that had given us so much pleasure; also to our new found friends—specially Miss Brown—my dear wife had grown quite fond of her. I think it was because she showed such kindness to us when we arrived, also she spoke English; and that, in itself, attracts an Englishman when away from home. The leave taking between them was quite affectionate and, doubtless, correspondence will follow. We left Mentone in the lovely sunshine, and from under the lovely palm trees, and were soon passing Monaco, Monte Carlo and Nice. We reached Cannes all safe and sound. A lovely motor carriage was at our disposal for the “Hotel de la Plage.” We were met by our old friend—George Green, Esq., and his good wife and daughter, Mrs. Martin, who also had a friend with her from Glasgow, Mrs. Giles. They gave us a hearty welcome to our hotel, second to none on the continent, I think, and lovely for situation, close by the sea; and surrounded with the most lovely semi-tropical plants, as the photo or snap-shot shows. We enjoyed the two or three days immensely with our friends in this lovely spot; for Cannes is lovely. The Bay of Cannes surpasses, it is said, the Bay of Naples for beauty. “Then there is the Cape of Antibes, with its gardens of dreamland and fairies!” The Estrel, with its profound solitude, and with its masses of red porphyry, like buildings erected by the Titians; with its arid soil covered with crooked pines, raising their branches towards the pure azure sky. Cannes is said to be a vast garden, where the flowers are scattered in profusion by Nature with a lavish and never wearying hand. There is also the orange, the lemon, the oleander, the pepper plant, and the palm tree; all growing side by side with the olive, the oak, and the stone pine. Of Cannes, it is said: “She is the daughter of the Sirens, and sprang into existence one morning under the glowing kisses of the sun.” It has had a chequered history, but it is now merged into the liberty of a gay and prosperous town of thirty-five thousand inhabitants.

Mr. and Mrs. Green, Mrs. Martin, Mrs. Wardle and Mrs. Giles at Cannes

Over twenty thousand visitors come to Cannes for the winter to escape the northern fogs and frosts. Mr. Green and I strolled the Promenade and talked over olden times. The ladies enjoyed their tete-a-tete and their shopping expeditions; so the days slipped quickly away and we must lose our friends, who go to Marseilles, then by sea to Glasgow. So again we say good-bye, expecting, however, to meet again soon in London. They leave early for Marseilles in order to catch their steamer. We visited Grasse the day after they left us. This is about twenty miles from Cannes by rail, and it lies up in the mountains; it is about one thousand feet above the sea level, yet it is surrounded by the Alps, at least east and north. The town has a population about fifteen thousand, and is built on the slope of a hill. It is steep climbing up from the station. Facing the town is a lovely valley or plain, where they cultivate flowers. The town is largely supported by the manufacturing of scent. There are several factories; one factory sends away over eleven million francs worth of scents yearly. It is a town of great interest. It has a fine old Cathedral, also some fairly good shops. The streets being on the hillside are not easy to walk along. Our stay was only for a few hours, but long enough to satisfy us; the place was health-giving and very interesting. On arriving at our hotel in Cannes we were tired; so after the usual table-de-hote and rest, we went to bed early, as the following morning we were to pack up and go. After the usual tips, bill settling, etc., we left Cannes and its many attractions, and as we rounded the bay we could see the town for miles with its white hotels, etc., amidst the luxuriant palm trees. We soon lost sight of the town and were spinning over deep ravines with rugged sides; there with jutting spurs of rock; here the sea pushing up in inlets and creeks, sparkling in the rays of the southern sun. Our train hurried us away from scenes of such perfect loveliness, past Toulon, and about 7.30 we reached Marseilles. Here we met again Mrs. Martin and her friend Mrs. Giles. We only stayed here about half-an-hour, but we began to feel the change in the atmosphere, and our rugs were brought into use, as we were travelling all night. About midnight we reached Lyons, and on looking out we found the snow was falling thick and fast. Oh! what a change in a few hundred miles! The sunny south was now behind us, and again we must face the biting frost and snow of winter.

We reached Paris about 11 a.m., and soon found our way to “Hotel du Nord.” We spent a night at the “Magenta Hotel,” where we found friends in Dr. Mochwyn Hughes and his sister, who were going into Switzerland. We decided to “do Paris,” as they say, in a motor. So we engaged one and were quickly through some of the busy streets of this wonderful city. We visited Notre Dame, of course, and went inside. There was a funeral cortege, and the mourners sitting by the bier; while the priests, with their incantations, mummeries and ceremonies, and genuflections, just by. We felt how little was the comfort to be had here for the grief stricken relatives. From here we passed the great Eiffel Tower, the Bourse, the Louvre, the Tuileries, the Champs Elysees, the Bois de Boulogne, and the New Opera House. The Pont Neuf or the New Bridge over the Seine. Then to the tomb where lies all that remains of the great Napoleon. Here, with uncovered heads, we gazed into the grand mausoleum, and were constrained to moralize on the vanity of human ambition; and of how short-lived and unsatisfactory all worldly wealth, pomp and pleasure. We passed the Pantheon and several places of great interest, but time flies and we must away from Paris. My wife, however, had become quite friendly and even affectionate with Miss Hughes, so at parting there was the usual promise of postcards, etc. We spent a little time with Mrs. Martin and her French friend, then to the railway, and in a few hours ride we found ourselves once again in Calais. We were not long in finding our way to the boat, our travels had made us quite experts in getting from boat to train and from train to boat. My little wife had to go below; Mrs. Martin, who travelled with us, bravely stood it. However, we faced the sea bravely because we knew that beyond it lay our home and loved ones anticipating our home-coming. I spent my time on deck, and really got a good blow from the briny. We landed at Dover safe and well; and, after a very little time, we were on the train, bound for the great city of London. It was dark as we travelled through the country, so we could not see the places of interest. We were glad to reach the “Manchester Hotel,” our home from home. The Manager, Mr. Hanscomb, received us with a warm welcome; and soon we felt we were amongst English people and could again enjoy an English meal in the English fashion. Only a night in the city and again we are entrained for Nottingham. We had travelled now nearly two thousand five hundred miles. Oh! the anticipation! The slowness of the train, as we thought; though it was a fast train. We, however, reached Home, sweet Home, safely and well, after many strange experiences; and Oh! what a Welcome! from my precious daughter, Ivy, and son Gordon, and dear Auntie; then our dearest baby boy, with his smiles and his dimples; and oh! what a hug! Welcome home, was apparent even from the servants, and we thought there is much truth in Leonard Cooke’s poetry:

“We have basked in the far off Eastern Sun,
’Neath skies of unchanging gold;
Held by the spell of the Orient
With its mystery and charm untold.

But, Oh! to the heart that is English,
There is nought in a distant clime
As fair as a field in England
Decked out in the summer time.

There is joy in the white faced daisy,
No country afar can excel;
There’s a charm that out rivals the orchids
In the tints of the pimpernel.

There’s a scent in the fields of England
Rich spices can ne’er surpass,
A pang to the heart of the exile;
’Tis the scent of the cool green grass.”

[FINIS].