The olive trees at Nice are cultivated on terraces cut like deep steps up the mountain-side.  All the earth which fills these terraces has been placed there by human labor; and when it is taken into consideration that many hundreds of miles of mountain-side have been thus redeemed from waste, that the work dates back at least fifteen centuries, and was performed at a period when agricultural implements were of the rudest, they must be acknowledged as among the most gigantic of undertakings.  They are from ten to twenty feet high, about a quarter of a mile long, and from fifteen to twenty-five feet wide.  In order to form them the rock had to be cut away, blasting being of course unknown at the time, and every handful of earth brought up from the plain below, often to a height of two thousand feet.  The Provencal writers consider them the work of the Moors, but it is probable that they were commenced under the Phoceans and the Romans and continued by the Arabs.  I have been shown several terraces the masonry of which was undoubtedly Roman, and coins bearing the effigies of the earlier Caesars have been often found in the brick work.  Corn is grown on them under the shadow of the olive trees, to whose branches the vine is frequently twined.  I have seen two wheat-harvests gathered in one year on these narrow terraces, and nothing can be imagined more charming than their appearance late in autumn.  Then the golden corn waves beneath garlands of vine heavily laden with luscious fruit, the olive tree, emblem of peace, waves its silvery foliage overhead, the peach is ripe, and so are the bright green October figs, and there is a mellowness in the air that makes one almost inclined to believe that the age of gold has returned to earth.

As the summit of the mountain is approached vegetation becomes less luxuriant, and finally disappears altogether.  Mont Borron, for so is the mountain in question called, is about two thousand five hundred feet high, and the plateau at its top is barren and rocky, though the short tufty thyme and myrtle grow in great abundance, to the delight of the sheep and bees.  The view obtained hence is amongst the most beautiful in the world.  Facing you is the deep blue Thyranean Sea, sparkling with sails, and often on a clear day with the hazy outline of the island of Corsica distinctly visible on its horizon.  To the right lies Nice, with all her domes, towers, churches, hotels, quays and the interminable line of her palatial villas traced out as in a map.  Then range after range of mountains of every shape and nature, grass grown, rocky, forest-covered, barren, rise one above the other until the mists of distance alone efface them from sight.  Along the coast of France can be counted, from this point, not less than fifteen separate bays and as many peninsulas and capes.  Wherever the eye lingers it is sure to discover enchanting districts—­gardens of surpassing loveliness, where grow groves of orange and lemon trees white with blossom or golden with