Twixt France and Spain Part 3

'Twas only when at my request some kindly hand would chide, Or sharply thrust a pointed stick against thy s.h.a.ggy side, That the slow blood that in thee runs would quicken once again, For though my parasol I broke, my efforts _still_ were vain.

Did I ill use thee? Surely not! such things could never be!

Although thou wentest slowest when I fain would haste to tea.

Creeping at snail's pace only--while I couldn't make thee learn That donkeys' legs were never made to stop at ev'ry turn.

At ev'ry turn!--such weary work--I knew not what to do: Oh nevermore!--no, nevermore!--would I that ride renew.

How very wide thy jaws were kept--how far thrown back thine ears, As though to make me think thee ill and fill my soul with fears.

Safe and unmounted will I roam with stately step alone, No more to feel, on thee, such pains and aches in ev'ry bone: And if I rest beside a well, perchance I'll pause and think, How even if I'd brought thee there, I couldn't make thee drink.

I couldn't even make thee move! Away, the ride is o'er!

Away! for I shall rue the day on which I see thee more!

They said thou wert so meek and good, and I'm not over strong, I took their _kind_ advice, but oh! their _kind_ advice was _wrong._

Who said I'd gladly give thee up? Who said that thou were old?

'Tis true! 'tis true! my donkey steed! and I alas was _sold._ With joy I see thy form depart--that form which ne'er again Shall bear me up the mountain-side and fill my soul with pain.

After such a potent warning posterity will doubtless avoid "donkey steeds" altogether.

Sat.u.r.day is the great market-day of the week, and not only then is the "Place de Strasbourg," at the end of the "Rue du Centre," well crowded, but even--as happens on no other day--the Place Lafayette, in front of the hotel, and the top of the Coustous as well. The first-named is the fruit, flower, and vegetable market; the second, the grain and potato; and the third, the iron and old shoe market.

The amount and variety of old iron and cast-off shoes exposed for sale is astonis.h.i.+ng. And if the vendors were given to crying their wares they might indulge in something like the following--of course translated:--

"Now who's for an 'upper,' a 'heel,' or a 'sole'?

This way for some fine rusty chain!

The sum of ten halfpence will purchase the whole, And surely you cannot complain!

"Just glance at this slipper, whose fellow is lost; Here's a boot that was only worn thrice; A hammer, your honour, at half what it cost; I'm sure that's a reasonable price."

The curious characters loafing, begging, buying and selling, quite defy description, though the resemblance of many to the ape tribe was conspicuous. One ancient individual, presiding over an "umbrella hospital," presented an interesting spectacle surrounded by _adult_ shoe-blacks whose trade did not appear to be too lucrative.

Sunday is usually a very quiet day out of the season, but on our first Sunday morning the Place de Strasbourg was the scene of a real cat-fight. The combatants quite tabooed spitting and scratching, and went to work with their teeth. After a few squeaks and a great deal of rolling in the dust, a magnanimous dog appeared on the scene, and after separating them, pursued the victor down the street. The rest of the day, as usual, pa.s.sed peacefully, and the pleasant services in the pretty little English Church were much enjoyed. It is situated near Dussert and Labal's marble works, just off the Rue des Pyrenees, leading to Campan, about a hundred yards beyond the Coustous, and is reached by crossing a small wooden bridge.

Monday broke very fine, and as the market people had notified that the Col d'Aspin was now open, we made up a party of ten, just filling two landaus, for this fifteen-mile drive. We did not start till eleven, and by that time the clouds had commenced to show themselves, but hoping for better things, we went ahead. Following the Campan road, we soon left Gerde and the Palomieres above it, in the distance, and in a few moments the village of Aste as well. A little further on we met a barouche, lolling back in which sat a priest. His hands were clasped o'er his breast, his spectacled eyes were fixed upwards, and judging by the expression of his mouth and the movement of his lips, he was endeavouring to put some pleasant, self-contented thoughts into words. We took the liberty of guessing what he was saying, and set it down as

"THE ABBe'S SONG."

Oh! I am an Abbe, an Abbe am I, And I'm fond of my dinner and wine.

Some say I'm a sinner, but that I deny, And I never am heard to repine.

'Tis said what a pity I can't have a wife, But I'm saved from the _chance_ of all naggings and strife, While in my barouche I can ride where I will, Feeling life not half bad, though the world may be ill.

I always wear gla.s.ses, but that's to look sage, And not 'cause my eyesight is dim, For when sweet maids I view of a loveable age, I contrive to look over the rim.

And when I'm alone with the gla.s.s at my lips, I am ready to swear, as I pause 'twixt the sips, That as long as the world does not hamper my will, I think I can manage to live in it still.

A short distance before reaching Baudean a road strikes to the right up the Vallon de Serris, and a short distance beyond, another, in the same direction, strikes up the Vallee de Lesponne, _en route_ for the Lac Bleu (6457 ft.) and the Montaigu (7681 ft.).

When Baudean and its quaint old church were left in our rear, and we were nearing Campan, we witnessed a fierce struggle between a young bull-calf and a native. The calf objected very strongly to the landaus, and wished to betake itself to the adjacent country to avoid them. To this the native very naturally objected in turn, and a struggle was the result, in which the calf was worsted and reduced to order.

Campan is a curious old town, with a quaint marketplace, whose roof rests on well-worn stone pillars. Turning a corner, we came on a somewhat mixed collection of men, women, oxen, and logs of wood.

The French flag was fixed against a tree, and painted on a board underneath it were the familiar words, "debit de tabac," with an arrow or two pointing round the corner, but no tobacco shop was in sight.

The peasants thronged the windows as we drove down the street, but the greater number were weird and decrepit females, with faces like the bark of an ancient oak-tree.

The old church, which stands near the market-place is well worth a visit. Pa.s.sing under an archway on the right side of the road, we entered a court-yard, in which stands a marble statue erected in honour of the late cure, and on the right of this is the entrance into the church.

After leaving Campan the road ascends slightly through several small hamlets, each possessing a proportionately small chapel at the wayside, till Ste. Marie (2965 ft.) is reached. Here the road bifurcates, the branch to the right leading to Gripp, Tramesagues, the Col du Tourmalet, and Bareges; the branch to the left, along which we continued, to the Col d'Aspin, Arreau, Borderes, Col de Peyresourde (5070 ft.), and Luchon (2065 ft.). From Ste. Marie the grandeur of the scenery increases. Besides the Montaigu and the Pic du Midi on the right, on the left are the Pene de l'Heris (5226 ft.) and the Crete d'Ordincede (5358 ft. about), with their wooded crests uplifted above the range of lower hills, dotted with the huts of the shepherds. Still ascending slightly, we pa.s.sed Payole (3615 ft.), where a head thrust out of the window of the Hotel de la Poste showed us it was at any rate occupied, and as we drove past at a good pace, visions of a pleasant tea rose before us.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PINE FOREST NEAR THE COL D'ASPIN.]

We were soon mounting the zigzags through the splendid pine woods, and enjoyed the delicious glimpses down the deep moss-grown glades, with the scent of the rising sap in our nostrils. The glimpses on the mountains up and down the road were very felicitous also. On emerging from the forest the road was rather narrow for the carriage for several yards, the snow being two to three feet deep on either side, but as soon as this was pa.s.sed, another three- quarter mile of open driving brought us to the Col d'Aspin (4920 ft.). The view from this spot is very fine, but to really enjoy the scenery to the fullest extent, we mounted the crest on the left, called the Monne Rouge (5759 ft.), and were well rewarded.

Although, as too often happens, the highest peaks were in the mist, we could see the whole extent of the valleys, and the tops of the lower mountains. The range of sight is magnificent; the Maladetta (10,866 ft.) only just visible to the east, the huge Posets (11,047 ft.) standing out frowningly to the south-south-east, as well as the Pez (10,403 ft.) and the Clarabide (10,254 ft. about), and many others. While not only the valley of s...o...b.., just pa.s.sed through, and the valley of Aure, in which Arreau lies, are visible, but to the northwest even the plain of the Garonne as well. As the clouds were gradually obscuring the scene, we made our way at a smart pace through the pines back towards the inn at Payole. One weather- beaten old fir, hung with lichen, devoid of all its former garb of green, seemed to appeal to us for pity; we noticed it both when ascending and descending, and its misery at dying when all the trees around were growing anew, we have set down as

"THE PLAINT OF THE WEATHER-BEATEN PINE."

Behold I stand by the Aspin road, an old and worn-out Pine, The years I cannot recollect that make this life of mine: The snows have fallen o'er my crest, the winds have whistled high, For tens of years the winter's frost I managed to defy; But now the fiat has gone forth, the flame of life is dead, And nevermore I'll feel the storms that beat about my head.

I've watch'd the carriage travellers pa.s.s so gaily on their way, I've heard the capercailzie's note at early dawning grey; But now, alas! my doom is sealed, I have not long to wait, For when the axe has laid me low the fire will be my fate.

Farewell to sun, farewell to storm, to birds and travellers all, --Oh sad to think that one so great should have so great a fall!

As some of the party had gone on earlier, we found the table spread when we reached the Inn de la Poste; and after a warm at the kitchen fire proceeded to discuss the repast, of which the following is the _menu_:--

MENU.

SOUP.

Tea._

FISH.

Cold Minnows.

ROASTS.

Remains of Cold Chicken. Remains of Pate de Foie Gras.

COLD.

Household _Bread_--very sour.

MADE DISH.

_b.u.t.ter._

SWEETS.

Sponge Biscuits.

DESSERT.