But judge of my surprise and increased consternation, when the fellow ordered forth a little runt of a quadruped—­in the shape of a horse—­which was hardly higher than the lower part of the chest of the animal which brought us from Vire!  I remonstrated.  The landlord expostulated.  I resisted—­but the fellow said it was a bargain; and proceeded quietly to deposit at least two hundred weight of his refined sugar at the back of the carriage.  This Lilliputian horse was made the leader.  The landlord mounted on the front seat, with our Vire post-boy by the side of him; and sounding his whip, with a most ear-piercing whoop and hollow, we sprung forward for Falaise—­which we were told we should reach before sunset.  You can hardly conceive the miseries of this cross-road journey.  The route royale was, in fact, completely impassable; because they were repairing it.  Alarmed at the ruggedness of the cross-road, where one wheel was in a rut of upwards of a foot deep, and the other elevated in proportion—­we got out, and resolved to push on a-foot.  We walked for nearly two leagues, before our conveyance overtook us—­so harassing and so apparently insurmountable seemed to be the road.  But the cunning aubergiste had now got rid of his leader.  He said that it was only necessary to use it for the first two or three leagues—­which was the most difficult part of the route—­and that, for the remainder, about five English miles, our “fine Norman horse” was perfectly sufficient.  This fine Norman horse was treated most unmercifully by him.  He flogged, he hallooed, he swore ... the animal tript, stumbled, and fell upon his knees—­more than once—­from sheer fatigue.  The charioteer hallooed and flogged again:  and I thought we must have taken up our night quarters in the high-way;—­when suddenly, to the left, I saw the fine warm glow of the sun, which had set about twenty minutes, lighting up one of the most perfect round towers, of an old castle, that I had yet seen in Normandy.  Voila FALAISE!—­exclaimed the ruthless charioteer; ... and in a quarter of an hour we trotted hard down a hill (after the horse had been twice again upon his knees) which terminated in this most interesting place.

It will be difficult for me to forget—­after such a long, wearisome, and in part desperate journey—­our approach to Falaise:—­and more especially the appearance of the castle just mentioned.  The stone seemed as fresh, and as perfectly cemented, as if it had been the work of the preceding year.  Moreover, the contiguous parts were so fine and so thoroughly picturesque—­and the superadded tradition of its being, according to some, the birth place—­and according to others, the usual residence—­of WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR ... altogether threw a charm about the first glimpse of this venerable pile, which cannot be easily described.  I had received instructions to put up at the “Grand Turc”—­as the only hotel worthy an Englishman’s notice.  At the door of the Grand Turk, therefore, we were safely deposited:  after having got rid of our incumbrances of two postilions, and two hundred weight of refined sugar.  Our reception was gracious in the extreme.  The inn appeared “tout-a-fait a la mode Anglaise”—­and no marvel ... for Madame the hostess was an Englishwoman.  Her husband’s name was David.