as if some trenchant instrument of an irresistible force, had shaved away many of the figures; but more especially the heads and the arms.  This was only one, but the most striking, specimen of revolutionary Vandalism.  There were plenty of similar proofs, on a reduced scale.  In the midst of these traces of recent havoc, there was a pleasure mingled with melancholy, in looking up and viewing some exceedingly pretty specimens of old stained glass:—­which had escaped the destruction committed in the lower regions, and had preserved all their original freshness.  Here and there, in the side chapels, the priests were robing themselves to attend confession; while the suppliants, in kneeling attitudes, were expecting them by the side of the confessionals.  From the church I bent my steps to the principal bookseller of the place, whom I found to be an intelligent, civil, and extremely good-natured tradesman.  But his stock was too modern.  “Donnez vous la peine de monter”—­exclaimed he precipitately; begging me to follow him.  His up-stairs collection was scarcely of a more ancient character than that below.  There were more copies of Voltaire and Rousseau than I should have supposed he could sell in six years—­but “on the contrary” (said he) “in six months’ time, not a single copy will remain unsold!” I marvelled and grieved at such intelligence; because the poison was not extracted from the nourishment contained in these works.  To an enquiry about my old typographical friends, Verard, Pigouchet, and Eustace, the worthy bibliopole replied “qu’il n’avoit jamais entendu parler de ces gens-la!” Again I marvelled; and having no temptation to purchase, civilly wished him good evening.

Meanwhile Mr. L. had attained the castle heights, and was lost in a sort of extacy at the surrounding scene.  On entering the outer walls, and directing your steps towards the summit, you are enchanted with a beautiful architectural specimen—­in the character of a zigzag early Norman arch—­which had originally belonged to a small church, recently taken down:  The arch alone stands insulated ... beyond which, a new, and apparently a very handsome, church is erecting, chiefly under the care and at the expence of the present Duke of Orleans;—­as a mausoleum for his family—­and in which, not many days before our arrival, the remains of one of his children had been deposited.  I wished greatly for a perfect drawing of this arch ... but there was no time ... and my companion was exercising his pencil, on the summit, by a minute, bird’s eye of the sweep of country to be seen from this elevated situation—­through the greater part of which, indeed, the diligence from Verneuil had recently conducted us.  I should add, that not a relic of that CASTLE, which had once kept the town and the adjacent country in awe, is now to be seen:  but its outer walls enclose a space hardly less than twenty acres:—­the most considerable area which I had yet witnessed.  To give a more interesting