A brilliant day in the town of Nemausus—the modern Nîmes—in the Province of Gallia Narbonensis, that arrogated to itself the title of being _the_ province, a title that has continued in use to the present day, as distinguishing the olive‐growing, rose‐producing, ruin‐strewn portion of Southern France, whose fringe is kissed by the blue Mediterranean. Not a cloud in the nemophyla‐blue sky. The sun streamed down, with a heat that was unabsorbed, and with rays unshorn by any intervenient vapor, as in our northern clime. Yet a cool air from the distant snowy Alps touched, as with the kiss of a vestal, every heated brow, and refreshed it.…
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