Bespeaking a late cup of tea, I strolled through the principal streets,—­delighted with the remarkably clear current of the water, which ran on each side from the numerous overcharged fountains.  Day-light had wholly declined; when, sitting down to my souchong, I saw, with astonishment—­a pair of sugar-tongs and a salt-spoon—­the first of the kind I had beheld since I left England!  Madame David enjoyed my surprise; adding, in a very droll phraseology, that she had “not forgotten good English customs.”  Our beds and bed rooms were perfectly comfortable, and even elegant.

The moat which encircles, not only the castle, but the town—­and which must have been once formidable from its depth and breadth, when filled with water—­is now most pleasingly metamorphosed.  Pasture lands, kitchen gardens, and orchards, occupy it entirely.  Here the cattle quietly stray, and luxuriously feed.  But the metamorphosis of the castle has been, in an equal degree, unfortunate.  The cannon balls, during the wars of the League—­and the fury of the populace, with the cupidity or caprice of some individuals, during the late revolution—­helped to produce this change.  After breakfast, I felt a strong desire to survey carefully the scite and structure of the castle.  It was a lovely day; and in five minutes I obtained admission at a temporary outer gate.  The first near view within the ramparts perfectly enchanted me.  The situation is at once bold, commanding, and picturesque.  But as the opposite, and immediately contiguous ground, is perhaps yet a little higher, it should follow that a force, placed upon such eminence—­as indeed was that of Henry the Fourth, during the wars of the League—­would in the end subdue the garrison, or demolish the castle.  I walked here and there amidst briars and brushwood, diversified with lilacs and laburnums; and by the aid of the guide soon got within an old room—­of which the outer walls only remained—­and which is distinguished by being called the birth-place of WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.

Between ourselves, the castle appears to be at least a century later than the time of William the Conqueror; and certainly the fine round tower, of which such frequent mention has been made, is rather of the fourteenth, if not of the beginning of the fifteenth century;[167] but it is a noble piece of masonry.  The stone is of a close grain and beautiful colour, and the component parts are put together with a hard cement, and with the smallest possible interstices.  At the top of it, on the left side, facing the high road from Vire,—­and constructed within the very walls themselves, is a well—­which goes from the top apparently to the very bottom of the foundation, quite to the bed of the moat.  It is about three feet in diameter, measuring with the eye; perhaps four:  but it is doubtless a very curious piece of workmanship.  We viewed with an inquisitive eye what remained of the Donjon: