by the vizard and leafy-robe of the masker of the carnival.—­Thus did they still continue equally interchanging the sorrows of godliness with the sweets of sin, and still the saint was distressed beyond compare, by observing that the scale of the wicked thing (wise men call him the correcting principle,) always seemed the heaviest.  Almost did he despair of his client’s salvation, when he luckily saw eight little jetty black claws just hooking and clenching over the rim of the golden basin.  The claws at once betrayed the craft of the cloven foot.  Old Nick had put a little cunning young devil under the balance, who, following the dictates of his senior, kept clinging to the scale, and swaying it down with all his might and main.  The saint sent the imp to his proper place in a moment, and instantly the burthen of transgression was seen to kick the beam.

Painters and sculptors also often introduced this ancient allegory of the balance of good and evil, in their representations of the last judgment:  it was even employed by Lucas Kranach.

The other capital which I send to you is ornamented with groups of Centaurs or Sagittaries.  Astronomical sculptures are frequently found upon the monuments of the middle ages.  Two capitals, forming part of a series of zodiacal sculptures, are preserved in the Musee des Monumens Francais; and, speaking from memory, I think they bear a near resemblance in style to that which is here represented.

[Illustration:  Capital with Centaurs or Sagittaries]

Montivilliers itself is a neat little town, beautifully situated in a valley, with a stream of clear water running through it.  At this time its trade is trifling; but the case was otherwise in former days, when its cloths were considered to rival those of Flanders, and the preservation of the manufacture was regarded of so much consequence, that sundry regulations respecting it are to be found in the royal ordinances.  One of them in particular, of the fourteenth century, notices the frauds committed by other towns in imitating the mark of the cloth of Montivilliers.

The general appearance of Harfleur is much like that of Montivilliers; but numerous remains of walls and gates denote that it was once of still greater comparative importance.  The ancient trade of the place is now transferred to Havre de Grace, the situation of the latter town being far more elegible.

The Seine no longer rolls its waves under Harfleur; and the desiccated harbor is now seen as a verdant meadow.  Without the aid of history, therefore, you would in vain inquire into the derivation of the name, in connection with which, the learned Huet, Bishop of Avranches[39], calls upon us to remark, that the names of many places in Normandy end in fleur, as Barfleur, Harfleur, Honfleur, Fiefleur, Vitefleur, &c.; and that, if, as it is commonly supposed, this termination comes from fluctus, it must have passed through the Saxon, in which language fleoten