On the opposite side of the bridge of Pont-de-l’Arche, stand the remains of a far richer abbey, that of Bonport, of the Cistertian order, founded by Richard Coeur-de-Lion, in 1190, as an ex voto.  The monarch, then just in possession of his crown, was indulging with his courtiers in the pleasures of the chace, and, carried away by the natural impetuosity of his temper, had plunged in pursuit of the deer into the Seine, whose rapid current brought his life into imminent danger; and he accordingly vowed, if he escaped with safety, to erect a monastery upon the spot where he should reach the shore.  Hence, according to Le Brasseur[99], the foundation, and hence the name.  I ought, however, to add, that no record of the kind is preserved in the Neustrta Pia, nor even by Millin, who has described and figured such of the monastic buildings and monuments as had been spared at the early part of the revolution[100].  Another view of the ruins has since been published by Langlois, in the first number of a work which was intended to have comprised a long series of Norman antiquities, but was discontinued for want of encouragement.  The author, whose portrait I have sent you in the course of this correspondence, is himself a native of Pont-de-l’Arche, and has subjoined to his fas-ciculus a couple of plates, illustrative of the costume and customs of the neighborhood.—­In one of these plates, an itinerant male fortune-teller is satisfying a young peasant as to the probability of her speedy marriage, by means of a pack of cards, from which he has turned up the king and queen and ace of hearts.  In the other, a cunning woman is solving a question by a book and key.  The poor girl’s sweetheart is an absent soldier, and fears and doubts are naturally entertained for his safety.  To unlock the mysteries of fate, the key is attached to the mass-book, and suspended from the tip of the finger of the sybil, who reads the first chapter of the gospel of St. John; and the invocation is answered by the key turning of its own accord, when she arrives at the verse beginning, “and the word was made flesh[101].”—­A fine rose-window in the church of the abbey of Bonport, and two specimens of painted glass from its windows, the one representing angels holding musical instruments, supposed to be of the thirteenth century, the other containing a set of male and female heads of extraordinarily rich color, probably executed about a century later, are given by Willemin in his very beautiful Monumens Francais inedits.  In the same work, you will likewise find two still more interesting painted windows from Pont-de-l’Arche; some boatmen and their wives in the Norman costume of the end of the sixteenth century, and a citizen of the town with his lady, praying before a fald-stool, bearing the date, 1621.