How delicious to escape from the fever heat and turmoil of Paris during
the Exhibition to the green banks and sheltered ways of the gently
undulating Marne! With what delight we wake up in the morning to the
noise, if noise it can be called, of the mower’s scythe, the rustle of
acacia leaves, and the notes of the stock-dove, looking back as upon a
nightmare to the horn of the tramway conductor, and the perpetual grind
of the stone-mason’s saw. Yes! to quit Paris at a time of tropic heat,
and nestle down in some country resort is, indeed, like exchanging
Dante’s lower circle for Paradise. The heat has followed us here, but
with a screen of luxuriant foliage ever between us and the burning blue
sky, and with a breeze rippling the leaves always, no one need complain.

Sku: holidaysineasternfrance

We good Americans – I say it without presumption
- are too apt to think that France is Paris, just as we
are accused of being too apt to think that Paris is the
celestial city. This is by no means the case, fortunately
for those persons who take an interest in modern
Gaul, and yet are still left vaguely unsatisfied by that
epitome of civilization which stretches from the Arc
de Triomphe to the Gymnase theatre. It had already
been intimated to the author of these light pages that
there are many good things in the _doux pays de France_
of which you get no hint in a walk between those
ornaments of the capital; but the truth had been revealed
only in quick-flashing glimpses, and he was
conscious of a desire to look it well in the face.

Sku: alittletourinfrance1