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OUR VISIT TO LA BELLE FRANCE.
It was some days after we left the beautiful city of Florence, with its wealth of statuary and paintings, before we again donned our uniforms, the lack of grounds upon which we could play being the reason for our enforced idleness.

The day we left Florence we crossed over the border and that night found us on French soil, and in the land of the "parlevooers." The ride from Florence to Nice, which latter city was our objective point, was one long dream of delight, the road running for nearly the entire distance along the shores of the Mediterranean and along the edge of high cliffs, at whose rocky bases waves were breaking into spray that, catching the gleam of the sunlight, reflected all the colors of the rainbow.

Now and then the train plunged into the darkness of a tunnel, where all was blackness, but as it emerged again the sunlight became all the brighter by comparison.

As we passed through Pisa, a few hours out from Florence, we caught excellent view of the famous leaning tower, with the appearance of which every schoolboy has been made familiar by the pictures in his geography.