JACK WINSTON TO LORD LANE
Hotel du Louvre, Marseilles,
My dear Montie,
We have just been passing through some of the most interesting parts of France, therefore in the world, and I have derived a certain rarefied enjoyment from it all, as I should have been only half a man not to do. But Brown stock has gone down a little since Carcassonne, why, I know not, though I suspect; and there is depression, if not panic in the market. Jimmy, having made his peace and promised caution, has again been promoted to the post of driver, and from the Jehu point of view I must confess that during a large part of the journey he has covered himself with as much credit as dust. This is saying a good deal, for, owing to the slight rainfalls in these southern departments, the roads are often buried inches deep under a coating of grey, pungent dust, enveloping all passing vehicles in a noisome cloud. They have also, set in their surface at irregular intervals, large pans or dishes with perpendicular walls from an inch to three inches in depth. These dishes being concealed by the all-pervading dust, it is impossible at—least for a Jimmy
