FOR the toil-worn Briton, on holiday intent, it is always a pleasant thing, on a fine day, to sit on the upper deck of a Channel steamer, and watch the white cliffs of Albion "fade o'er the waters blue." As they sink below the horizon, all the cares and worries of the pilgrim's life, under which he has been struggling and groaning for months past, seem to slip, like Christian's load of sins, from off his back, and he arises and sniffs the salt Channel breezes, a new man. A well-lined pocket, and at least a fortnight's prospective absence, with the accompaniment of congenial society, are, of course, necessary conditions for the realisation of these beatific sensations; but if these are present, with what zest does he not look forward to the coming days! How welcome to his eyes the first glimpse of the grey shores of France; and with what good humour and urbanity, on landing, he treats the gruff douanier; how sweet to his taste the primal déjeuner or dinner, on the foreign shore!

CROSSING JORDAN, PAU. (From a drawing by Garden G. Smith.).

If the man be a golfer and meditate golf, he has even more reason to be pleased with himself, for he need not go empty away. It is now possible to play golf on good links at many places in France. The golf club at Pau, in the Pyrenees, was founded as long ago as 1856, and the torch lighted there has been handed on to Biarritz, Arcachon, Paramé, Cannes, Hyéres, Dinard, Dieppe, and Mayville, and has even now reached Paris itself. Golf clubs now form part of every English holiday-maker's baggage on the Continent, and no longer excite the wonder and curiosity of the natives. "Le Golf," if not yet fully understood and appreciated, is at least known.

Some five years ago, the writer was on a sketching tour in South-eastern France. Amongst his other "impedimenta" was a set of golf clubs, with which he promised himself a game at Pau. The hotel porter at Aries, who brought the luggage to the Gare du Départ, and who had been acting as "caddie," in various sketching expeditions for the preceding days, pointed to the golf clubs as he received his parting tip, and said, "Pardon, m'sien, est-ce que c'est pour la photographie?"

There is a curious and subtle charm about playing golf in France which must be experienced to be fully appreciated. One has, or had until lately, all the joy and rapture of the pioneer or missionary, while the antics and jargon of the French caddie are a never-failing source of wonder and delight.

"Non m'sieu, il ne faut pas prendre le brassy, vous irez assez loin avec le fer."

"Monsieur X. il est très fort comme joueur, il a fait le rond hier en soisante seize."

These and such-like remarks fall on the golfer's ear with a soothing and dream-like charm, difficult to explain or express. It is all so delightfully unreal, and the game, so dour and reserved in its native and wonted manifestation, sits so ludicrously on volatile Gallic shoulders. Surrounded as it is, in the Scotch mind at least, by more or less sombre associations of scenery, it seems curiously out of place, amid the sunshine and gayness of its French environment.

At Dieppe, the caddies, whose ordinary dress is the nondescript attire of the Norman gamin, surmounted by a huge "bèret," have a gorgeous uniform of butcher blue, with red facings, of which they are naturally very proud. On the writer's caddie turning up, on the second morning of his visit, in his ordinary attire, he inquired of him why he had not donned his uniform; to which "Alexandre" replied with an impressive gesture, "On ne s'habille pas, le matin." Bright-eyed, charming little chaps they are, these Norman caddies, full of natural politeness, and as keen as mustard over the game. To see them racing down the braes after the balls, and to note the pleased eagerness with which they point out their whereabouts to their employers, is a pleasurable experience for one accustomed to the more careless and apathetic methods of their British brethren.

Golf at Dieppe is quite a late institution. The prosperity and trade of the town showed serious signs of waning, and civic counsels were divided, both as to the causes of its decadence, and as to what should be done to restore the place to its ancient flourishing condition. A letter from "John Strange Winter" (Mrs. Arthur Stannard), who now resides at Dieppe, advised the authorities to do three things, which, she assured them, would have the desired effect. The first, was to start a golf course; the second, was to advertise the place and its attractions broadcast; and the third, was to cease to fleece the passing stranger. To the credit of the Dieppois, this very sensible advice has been fully acted upon. A fund was soon raised, a golf course was found, and a club formed. The town is being boomed for all it is worth, and the hotel proprietors, coming to their senses, are at length bringing their tariffs down to reasonable proportions. At the Hotel de Paris, nearest the links, the golfer will find every comfort at a pension of from 10 to 12 fr. a day, so that, even from London, a golfing holiday at Dieppe, from the point of view of expense, is but little dearer than one at Sandwich or Littlestone. The golf course is yet new, and will take a deal of work and play on it, before the golf becomes good, but the ground, if small, is of the most sporting character, the air is bracing, and the views, both to the north and south, of the rocky coast of Normandy, are exceedingly fine. In the hands of Mr. Samborne, the British pro-consul, as captain, and with Mr. Stannard as secretary, the Dieppe golf club ought to have a great future before it, as its enterprise deserves.

The golf course of Pau is the oldest, and perhaps also the best, of Continental golf courses. Though it is an inland course, so much money has been spent on it under the best direction and advice, that amongst inland courses anywhere it would take a lot of beating. It lies beautifully, by the banks of the Gave, just outside the town, and in the middle of the most enchanting scenery. Across the river to the south, vine-clad slopes and wooded hills and mountains, rising one behind the other, lead the eye away to where, in the far distance, the snow-capped and serrated edge of the Pyrenean mountains seems to pierce the heavens. The "Pic du Midi de Bigorre," which sounds Irish, but isn't - though it is a useful phrase in a bunker - dominates the distant range, and throughout the day, its rugged summit catches and holds the glittering southern sunlight. On the north, the valley is sheltered by well-wooded heights. To the east, one gets glimpses of the town, past the chateau and park of Henri IV., while to the west, the winding course of the Gave can be traced for miles, its banks poplar-clad, and dotted with orchard farms and stately chateaux. The climate is mild and equable in winter. Besides the golf club on the green, attached to which is the Ladies' Golf Club, there is a well-appointed and excellent English club in the town. A pack of foxhounds hunt regularly during the season, and race-meetings are also held at Tarbes. Thus either for the golfer or sportsman, Pau is an ideal wintering place.