Some of the peaks near the Tourmalet are of peculiar form: one of them, pointed out to me by Charlet, is called the _Campana de Vasse_--the Bell of the Valley--which the mountaineers believe is to awaken the echoes of the Pyrenees on the day of judgment, and call the dead before the last tribunal.
After resting about an hour on the ridge of the Tourmalet, enjoying the solitude of a scene which was interrupted but once--by a soldier, a convalescent from the waters of Bareges, on his way back to join his garrison at Tarbes,--we remounted, and rode slowly down the Bastan, every turn of the road disclosing some fresh object to excite admiration or surprise.

When we reached Bareges, the place was entirely deserted by visitors--even the houses were gone,--for the greater part of those erected for the company who throng the valley in the summer, being merely of wood, are removed to places of greater security than Bareges, where they run the risk of being destroyed by the floods and "moving accidents" of the mountains.

We made no stay, therefore; but, like the Lady Baussiere, "rode on" at a leisurely pace, the more fully to enjoy the wondrous beauties of the road between Bareges and Luz, where we arrived about four o'clock in the afternoon.
There is only one hotel at Luz; but it is the best in the Pyrenees,--not only for the nature of the accommodation, but the civility and attention of the host, the hostess, and their pretty _protegee_, Marie, who acts as waiter, _femme-de-chambre_, and _factotum_ to the establishment.

A good dinner was promised, and the promise was faithfully kept,--bear witness the delicate blue trout, which I have nowhere met with so good, except, perhaps, at Berne.

But as there yet remained an hour or two of daylight, I employed the interval in visiting the ruins of the old feudal castle of St.Marie, and in sketching the church built by the Templars, which resembles a fortalice, rather than a place of worship.