Perhaps the most beautiful excursion to be made from Salins is to the little town of Nans, and the source of the River Lison, a two hours' drive amid scenery of alternating loveliness and grandeur--vines everywhere as we climb upwards, our road curling round the mountain-sides, as a ribbon twisted round a sugar-loaf, and then having wound in and out jagged peaks covered with light foliage and abrupt slopes clad with vines, we come to the sombre pine-forests, passing from one forest to another, the air blowing upon us with sudden keenness. No sooner do we emerge from these gloomy precincts than we come upon the pretty little village of Nans, smiling and glowing in a warm sunlit valley, and most enticing to us after the sombreness and chilliness of the mountain-tops.
Although anything but a _gourmand_ myself, I will mention for the benefit of those who really care for good things, that we found a most wonderful dinner awaiting us in the homely little _auberge_ at which we alighted--hare, salmon, trout, prawns, and all kinds of local confectionery, were here supplied at the modest price of ten francs and a half, the cook of the establishment being the landlady herself, and the entire staff consisting of two old women. One of these was drafted off to guide me to the source, and off we set on our walk, at once leaving the warm open valley for the mountain world. On and on we went, the mountain closing upon us and shutting out more and more of the glowing blue heavens, till we came to a stand. From these rocky fastnesses, here forbidding further progress, the River Lison has its source; above they show a silvery grey surface against the emerald of the valleys and the sapphire of the sky, but below the huge clefts, from which we are soon to see the river issue forth exultingly, they are black as night.
A few steps onward and we were in sight of the source, and no words can convey its imposingness, or the sense of contrast forced upon the mind--the pitchy, ebon cavern from which flashes the river in silvery whiteness, tumbling in a dozen cascades down glistening black rocks, and across pebbly beds, and along gold-green pastures. We explored the inner part of this strange rock-bed; the little River Lison, springing from its dark cavernous home, leaping forth with wild exultation into the light, pursuing its way under all kinds of difficulties, growing broader and broader as it goes, till a wide, sunlit river, it flows onward and onward, finally reaching the sea, reminded me, as I gazed, of a lovely thought emerging from the thinker's brain, which, after obstacles and hindrances innumerable, at last, refreshing all as it goes, reaches the open light of universal truth.