to the band, where ennui would speedily have been driven away.  Speaking of this railway reminds us that at Anglet, one of the stations on the line, there is a very interesting convent of “Silent Sisters” within easy access from the train.  Although it is a sad sight to see all these women deluded with the notion that their sins, however great, could not be pardoned without such a bitter expiation; yet the order and cleanliness that is patent everywhere, and the gardens and greenhouses, lend an attraction to the place in spite of its melancholy associations. [Footnote:  Visitors are expected to purchase a specimen of the needlework exhibited to them, or at any rate to put a donation in the convent box.]

When June has succeeded May, Biarritz begins to empty of its English and American visitors, to give place in July to the Spaniards and French.  On the 15th of that month prices go up with a bound, often becoming double and even treble what they were during the winter season.  This is the time to stroll on the “Plage” and watch the bathing; to note the varied costumes, see the merry faces, and listen to the children’s laughter, mingled with the splash of the waves.  But we are only treating of spring, so must not encroach upon summer; but—­following our countrymen’s example—­bid “Au revoir” to Biarritz before the glare forces us to parade the streets with blue spectacles and double-lined parasols.

CHAPTER XIV.

CONCLUSION.

“Where duty leads”—­Resorts in the Eastern Pyrenees—­Caen—­“Riou”—­Our paths diverge—­“The Lesson of the Mountains”—­Farewell.

Although we have in reality come to the end of our tour, and have consequently no more places to discourse on, it may be suggested that our task is but badly ended if we omit to mention such resorts as Amelie, Vernet, Molitg, and other spots, which, if of less importance than those we have visited, are nevertheless in the Pyrenees.  That they are in the Pyrenees cannot be disputed, but being in the eastern portion, the way of reaching them from the resorts among the western heights is so roundabout, that but few people would think of visiting both.  However, for the information of any intending travellers, we have collected what reliable facts we could about the above-mentioned places—­as well as Capvern, Preste-les-Bains, Panticosa, and a few others—­which will be found in the general information [Footnote:  See Appendix A.] at the end of the volume, and will, we trust, be of service.

We have but little left us now to do but to take our leave, though we have one little incident to record, which, though it occurred far from the Pyrenees, resulted, nevertheless, from our visit.

Travelling slowly homeward by the route through Normandy to Cherbourg, we stopped a few days at the delightful town of Caen.  While there—­in consequence of negotiations that had been carried on for some time—­Miss Blunt had her desires gratified by the arrival of a fine Pyrenean puppy—­like a small white bear with brown points—­from Cauterets, one of the identical pair about which we had such a lively scene with the old French fancier.  He was christened “Riou,” after the Col of that name, and his owner has very kindly drawn his portrait among his native hills, to adorn these pages.