At eleven o’clock the cavalcade started, and a noble cavalcade it was:  Miss Blunt on a strong dark bay pony, Mr. Sydney on a similar-coloured horse, and myself on a grey, formed the van; then came our burly friend (by name Pont Dominique), and another guide (Berret), carrying the lunch; and the rear was brought up by a small brindled bull-dog, and a smaller specimen of unknown breed, which was nevertheless a capital harmony in orange and white.  In this order we left the Rue Richelieu and ascended the Rue d’Etigny, passing under several wreaths and crowns, with which the streets were decorated.  We had previously noticed these grand preparations on our arrival, and though sensible of the good feeling that apparently prompted these attentions, we thought they were somewhat superfluous.  But that is (as they were) by the way.  Having soon reached the last of the houses, we gained the Rue du Pauze Vieux, and turning sharply to the right, ascended to the two establishments known respectively as the Pauze Vieux and Pauze Nouveau.  And here a paradox—­pause, view, and be convinced!  The Pauze Vieux is the Pauze Nouveau and the Pauze Nouveau is the Pauze Vieux.  Should any well-educated citizen of any country under the sun (or daughter) be disposed to doubt, let him examine the buildings for himself, and he must agree.

Half-an-hour after starting we reached the cottage known as the “Grange de la Reine Hortense,” the view from which is excessively fine.  Looking down towards the town, the mighty Cabaliros (7655 ft.), forming a semicircle, stood above on the right; to the left of this semicircle reared up the Monne (8938 ft.), the highest mountain in the vicinity, from which other peaks make another similar formation, ending with La Brune, beside which, but more to the left and immediately over the town, rises the Peguere, covered with irregularly-heaped crags, and pines.  The town itself looked very neat and compact:  the Mamelon Vert (a small hill to the right) and the chief thorough-fares being easily distinguished.  Far up the Lutour valley, to the extreme left, the Pic de Labassa, or de la Sebe (9781 ft.), and the Pyramide de Peyrelance (8800 ft.), completed the chief points of the scene in that direction; but far away in the opposite one we could easily see the Argeles valley and the Gothic church of Lourdes.  Behind us, seemingly facing the Cabaliros, were the Col de Riou (6375 ft.), our would-be destination, and the Pic de Viscos.  Winding up the hillside, and passing banks blue with the large and small gentian, we entered the pines, which made a pleasant change.  As at the Col d’Aspin, [Footnote:  Vide Bigorre, p. 42.] the rising sap filled the air with its refreshing odour, and the occasional glimpses of blue sky, mountain, and valley, through the gently waving branches, were very charming.

[Illustration:  ASCENT OF COL DE RIOU]

We had not proceeded very far through the trees when we reached a break, where one of the party felt that at least something had been gained.  There, partly on the track, partly on the loose stones above it, lay a bank of snow, and so delighted was Miss Blunt at having attained the (present) snow-line—­say about 4600 feet above sea level—­that her feelings were not to be in any way damped or suppressed, as they burst forth in an