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Matilda Betham-Edwards - Holidays in Eastern France

hand-clasps, and affectionate farewells of a dozen kind friends. Two hours' railway journey, through a
beautiful country, brought me to Besancon, where, as at Montbeliard, I received the warmest welcome,

and felt at home at once.

CHAPTER VI. BESANCON AND ITS ENVIRONS.

The hotels at Besancon have the reputation of being the worst in all France, but my kind friends would
not let me try them. I found myself, therefore, all at once in the midst of all kinds of home comforts,

domesticities, and distractions, with delightful cicerones in host and hostess, and charming little

companions in their two children. This is the poetry of travel; thus to journey from one place to another,

provided with introductory letters which open hearts and doors at every stage, and make each one the

inauguration of a new friendship. I wish I could subjoin an illustration of "How I travelled through

Franche-Comte," for my exploration of these regions was a succession of pic-nics - host, hostess, their

English guest, Swiss nurse-maid, and two little fair-haired boys, being cosily packed in an open carriage;

on the seat beside the driver, a huge basket, suggesting creature comforts, the neck of a wine bottle, and

the spout of a tea-pot being conspicuous above the other contents. This is indeed the way I saw the

beautiful valley of the Doubs, and not only the country round about Besancon, but the border-land of

Switzerland and Savoy. The weather - we are in the first days of September - is perfect. The children,

aged respectively eighteen months and three years and odd, are the best little travellers in the world,

always going to sleep when convenient to their elders, and at other times quietly enjoying the shifting

landscape; in fact, there is nothing to mar our enjoyment of regions as lovely as any it has ever been my

good fortune to witness.

In consequence of the bad character of the Besancon hotels, even French tourists seldom break their
journey here; but, on the opening of the new railway line into Switzerland, joining Besancon, Ornans,

and Morteau, new and better hotels are sure to spring up. At present, wherever we go, we never, by any

chance, meet the ubiquitous English traveller with his Murray, and my friends here say that, during a

several years' residence in Besancon, they have never even yet seen such an apparition! Yet

Franche-Comte, at present a terra incognita of tourists, abounds in all kinds of beauty; the

sublime, the gracious, the grandiose, and the pastoral, rock, vast panoramas, mountain and valley, all are

here; and all as free from the trace of the English and American tourist as the garden of Eden before

Eve's trespass!

Besides these quieter beauties are some rare natural phenomena, such as the Glaciere de la Grace
Dieu
, near Baume-les-Dames, and the famous Osselle grottoes, both of which may be reached by
railway. We preferred, however, the open carriages the basket and the tea-pot, and accordingly set off for

the latter one superb morning in the highest spirits, which nothing occurred to mar. Quitting this splendid

environment of Besancon, we drive for three hours amid the lovely valley of the Doubs, delighted at

every bend of the road with some new feature in the landscape; then choosing a sheltered slope,

unpacked our basket, lunched al fresco, with the merriest spirits, and the heartiest appetite. Never

surely did the renowned Besancon pates taste better, never did the wine of its warm hill-sides

prove of a pleasanter flavour! The children sported on the turf like little Loves, the air was sweet with the

perfume of new-made hay. The birds sang overhead, and beyond our immediate pavilion of greenery, lay

the curling blue river and smiling green hills. Leaving the children to sleep under the trees, and the horse

to feed at a neighbouring mill - there is no kind of wayside inn here, so we have to beg a little hay from

the miller or a farmer - we follow a little lad, provided with matches and candles to the entrance of the

famous grottoes. Outside the sugar-loaf hill, so marvellously channelled and cased with stalactite

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