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Read Ebook: Our sentimental journey through France and Italy A new edition with Appendix by Pennell Elizabeth Robins Pennell Joseph
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Ebook has 319 lines and 52471 words, and 7 pages
PAGE
OUR SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY 15
CALAIS 19
BY A FAIR RIVER AND OVER TERRIBLE MOUNTAINS 28
THE BOARDING-HOUSE OF NEUCH?TEL 42
THE SOUTH WIND 46
MONTREUIL 52
NAMPONT 54
A CITY IN MOURNING 57
FAITHFUL ABBEVILLE 67
CRUSHED AGAIN 69
A BY-ROAD 70
AMIENS 77
WIND, POPLARS, AND PLAINS 84
THE COMMERCIAL GENTLEMEN OF ST. JUST 91
THROUGH THE RAIN 100
AN ENGLISH LANDLADY 107
PARIS 115
A TALK ABOUT M. MILLET AND MR. STEVENSON, AND FROM MR. PENNELL 120
IN THE FOREST 135
FONTAINEBLEAU 140
THROUGH A FAIR COUNTRY 143
MONTARGIS 149
HOW WE FOUGHT THE WIND FROM MONTARGIS TO COSNE 154
A GOOD SAMARITAN 163
BY THE LOIRE 170
THE BOURBONNAIS 180
MOULINS 186
THE BOURBONNAIS AGAIN 189
WITH THE WIND 197
LYONS 209
THE AUTUMN MANOEUVRES 213
VIENNE 218
THE FEAST OF APPLES 222
RIVES 232
OUR
SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY,
&c. &c.
--"The roads," said I, "are better in France."
"Strange!" quoth I, arguing the matter with him, "you have so little faith in cyclers that you cannot take their word for it."
--But we had scarce begun our sentimental journey.
CALAIS.
Now, before I quit Calais, a travel-writer would say, it would not be amiss to give some account of it.--But while we were there we were more concerned in seeking the time and occasion for sentiment than in studying the history and monuments of the town. If you would have a short description of it, I know of none better than that of Mr. Tristram Shandy, who wrote without even having seen by daylight the places he described.--The church with the steeple, the great Square, the town-house, the Courgain, are all there still, and I fancy have changed but little in a hundred years.
Now was the moment for an occasion for sentiment to present itself.
It is a rude world, I think, when the wearer of a cycling suit cannot go forth to see the town but instantly he is stared at and ridiculed by the townspeople. For our part,
"What wouldst thou have? 'Tis the English fashion."
If there was one thing we hoped for more than another, it was to see a monk, the first object of
our master's sentiment in France; and, strange as it may seem, our hope was actually fulfilled before the afternoon was over.--On the outskirts of the city, where we had taken refuge from ridicule, we saw a brown hooded and cloaked Franciscan, and in our joy started to overtake him. But he walked quite as fast across the yellow-flowered sand-dunes towards St. Pierre. Had he known what was in our hearts, I think he too would have introduced himself with a little story of the wants of his convent and the poverty of his order.
BY A FAIR RIVER AND OVER TERRIBLE MOUNTAINS.
The morning was cool, the sky grey with heavy clouds, and the south wind we were soon to dread was blowing softly. It seemed a matter of course, since we were in France, that we should come out almost at once on a little river. It ran in a long line between reeds, towards a cluster of red-roofed cottages, and here and there fishermen sat, or stood, on the banks. When it forsook its straight course, the road and the street-car track from
Sometimes I rode, for each tiny village nestled in a valley of its own, giving us a hill to coast as well as to climb. There were occasional windmills in the distance; and close to the road large farm-houses and barns, with high sloping red roofs and huge troughs in front, where we knew cattle would come in the twilight and horses would be watered in the morning. And when Calais, with smoking chimneys, was far behind and below, we came to black crosses by the wayside and better manners among the people. The peasants now wished us good day.
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