I shall never recall the Jura without
this cool, pleasant, dripping noise, as much a part of it as its brisk
air and dazzling blue sky.
There is a good deal to see at Salins; the _salines_, or salt-works, the
old church of St. Anatole with its humorous wood-carvings, the exquisite
Bruges tapestries in the Museum, the ancient gateways of the city, the
quaint Renaissance statue of St. Maurice in the church of that
name--wooden figure of a soldier-peasant on horseback--and lastly the
forts and the superb panoramas to be obtained from them. This little
straggling town, of not more than six thousand and odd inhabitants,
possesses a public library of ten thousand volumes, a natural history
museum, and a theatre, and other resources. It is eminently Catholic,
but I was glad to find that the thin edge of the Protestant wedge is
being driven in there, a Protestant service being now held once a month,
and this will doubtless soon develop into some regular organization.
Protestantism means cleanliness, education, and domestic morality, and
Catholicism the reverse; so no wonder that the more enlightened mayors
and municipalities are inclined to look upon these quiet invasions with
favour. As I narrate my progress through the Jura, it will be seen that
I found Protestantism everywhere making head against the enemy.
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