It was warm enough for July, and young and
old could disport themselves on the turf in perfect security.
As the afternoon wore on, numerous pleasure-parties, mostly belonging to
the working-classes, found their way to the same pleasant spot, all
amply provided with baskets of wine and provisions. Some went further in
search of a little glade they could have to themselves, others took
possession of nooks and corners in the open space where we tad just
before dined so merrily. It was amusing to see how little attention
these good people paid to us, or any other outsiders. Two or three of
the women, fearing to tear their Sunday gowns in the wood, coolly took
them off, hung them on the trees near, and as coolly re-made their
toilette when their woodland rambles were over.
The train to Roche certainly brought in a goodly contingent of pic-nic
parties that afternoon and when about four o'clock we prepared to return
home, the place was beginning to wear a very animated appearance. The
moon had risen ere we reached our destination, and, seen in the tender
summer twilight, the valley of the Doubs looked even more beautiful than
in the glowing sunshine of mid-day. There is no monotony in these
vine-clad hills, rugged mountain sides wooded from peak to base, close
shut valleys, and bright blue winding rivers; whether seen under the
dropping shadows of a shifting sky, or under the glow of sunset, their
quiet beauties delight the eye of the mere spectator and commend
themselves to the artist.
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