child's fancy of a river, like the rivers of the old miniature-
painters, blue, and full to a fair green margin. One notices along
its course a greater proportion than elsewhere of still untouched old
seignorial residences, larger or smaller. The range of old gibbous
towns along its banks, expanding their gay quays upon the water-side,
[51] have a common character--Joigny, Villeneuve, Saint Julien-du-
Sault--yet tempt us to tarry at each and examine its relics, old
glass and the like, of the Renaissance or the Middle Age, for the
acquisition of real though minor lessons on the various arts which
have left themselves a central monument at Auxerre.--Auxerre! A
slight ascent in the winding road! and you have before you the
prettiest town in France--the broad framework of vineyard sloping
upwards gently to the horizon, with distant white cottages inviting
one to walk: the quiet curve of river below, with all the river-side
details: the three great purple-tiled masses of Saint Germain, Saint
Pierre, and the cathedral of Saint Etienne, rising out of the crowded
houses with more than the usual abruptness and irregularity of French
building. Here, that rare artist, the susceptible painter of
architecture, if he understands the value alike of line and mass of
broad masses and delicate lines, has "a subject made to his hand."

A veritable country of the vine, it presents nevertheless an
expression peaceful rather than radiant. Perfect type of that happy
mean between northern earnestness and the luxury of the south, for
which we prize midland France, its physiognomy is not quite happy--
attractive in part for its melancholy. Its most characteristic
atmosphere is to be seen when the tide of light and distant cloud is
travelling quickly [52] over it, when rain is not far off, and every
touch of art or of time on its old building is defined in clear grey.
A fine summer ripens its grapes into a valuable wine; but in spite of