[Illustration:  CAUTERETS.]

Cauterets (3,254 feet) was only just waking into life, only two or three hotels, one or two hair-dressers, one confectioner’s, one tobacconist’s, and one or two grocers’ shops were open; while of the bathing establishments, the “Thermes des Oeufs,” the largest, and the Thermes de Cesar, were the only ones showing signs of renewed life.  The Esplanade des Oeufs, [Footnote:  “Oeufs” because of the water’s scent resembling “rotten eggs.”] a large tree-planted space in front of the principal “thermes” (just mentioned)—­which serves as casino, concert-hall, and theatre as well—­seemed utterly deserted; whereas in summer, with the band playing, the trees in full leaf, the booths opened, and the crowds of visitors, the scene must be the gayest of the gay.  We had just time to notice so much, on the afternoon of our arrival, before the sun set behind the huge mountains which surround this charming spot and the hour of dinner arrived.  This dinner was so excellent, so well cooked and served, that, although we despise with a deep-rooted scorn the wretched class of individuals who make their dinner their main object in life, we nevertheless consider that we are only paying a merited tribute to the chef in saying that the cooking was always of a high standard, and quoting as a specimen the evening’s menu (May 1): 

SOUP. 
Gravy.

FISH. 
Salmon, with sliced potatoes and melted butter.

MADE DISHES. 
Hashed Veal.  Sauce Piquante. 
Sweetbreads and green peas.

ROAST.
Chicken.

VEGETABLES. 
Asparagus.  Potatoes (new).

PUDDING. 
Sago.

ICE, &c. 
Vanilla cream. 
Cheese, Jelly, and Biscuits.

When we woke the following morning, the sun shining from a cloudless sky proclaimed an “excursion morning.”  Accordingly, we sent for a guide, to inquire if a visit to the Lac de Gaube was practicable.  The guide arrived, and disappointment ensued.  It was possible to go if we didn’t mind a few miles of snow, two feet deep and upwards.  But we did mind very strongly, and said so.  Then the burly native spoke again, and said that the Col de Riou was an easy trip, that we could take horses to within a short distance of the summit, and that when we got there the splendid view would include St. Sauveur, Argeles, Bareges, Gavarnie, &c. &c.  And we answered the burly native in his sister tongue (patois was his mother tongue), or as near to it as we could, and said, “Have three horses ready by half-past ten at this hotel, and we will start.”  Then, delighted, he smiled and bowed, and disappeared down the street.