There were difficulties in the way of seeing all these. I had been
unexpectedly detained at Dijon. It was the second week in September,
and the Roof of France--in other words, the department of the Lozere--
is ofttimes covered with snow before that month is out. My travelling
companion was a young French lady, permitted by her parents to travel
with me, and for whose health, comfort and safety I felt responsible.
It seemed doubtful whether this year at least I should be able to
realize my new-formed project, and penetrate into the solitudes of the
Causses. However, I determined to try.

My journey begins at the ancient town of Le Puy, former capital of the
Vivarais, chef-lieu of the department of the Haute Loire, and, it is
unnecessary to say, one of the most curious towns in the world. We had
journeyed thither by way of St. Etienne, and were bound for Mende, the
little mountain-girt bishopric and capital of the Lozere.

We had to be up betimes, as our train for Langogne, corresponding with
the Mende diligence, started at five in the morning. It might have been
midnight when we quitted the Hotel Gamier--would that I could say a
single word in its favour!--so blue black the frosty heavens, so
brilliant the stars, the keen September air biting sharply.

More fortunate than a friend whose pocket was lately picked of twenty-
five pounds at the railway-station here, I waited whilst the terribly
slow business of ticket-taking and registration was got over, thankful
enough that I had breakfasted overnight--that is to say, had made tea
at three o'clock in the morning. Not a cup of milk, not a crust of
bread, would that inhospitable inn offer its over-charged guests before
setting out. As I have nothing but praise to bestow upon the hostelries
of the Lozere and the Cantal, I must give vent to a well-deserved