From still, let me conduct you to active life.  In other words, let us hasten to take a peep at the Horse and Cattle Market; which is fixed in the very opposite part of the town; that is, towards the northern Boulevards.  The horses are generally entire:  and indeed you have scarcely any thing in England which exceeds the Norman horse, properly so understood.  This animal unites the hardiness of the mule with the strength of his own particular species.  He is also docile, and well trained; and a Norman, from pure affection, thinks he can never put enough harness upon his back.  I have seen the face and shoulders of a cart-horse almost buried beneath a profusion of ornament by way of collar; and have beheld a farmer’s horse, led out to the plough, with trappings as gorgeous and striking as those of a General’s charger brought forward for a review.  The carts and vehicles are usually balanced in the centre upon two wheels, which diminishes much of the pressure upon the horse.  Yet the caps of the wheels are frightfully long, and inconveniently projecting:  while the eternally loud cracking of the whip is most repulsive to nervous ears.  On market days, the horses stand pretty close to each other for sale; and are led off, for shew, amidst boys, girls, and women, who contrive very dexterously to get out of the way of their active hoofs.  The French seem to have an instinctive method of doing that, which, with ourselves, seems to demand forethought and deliberation.

Of the STREETS, in this extraordinary city, that of the Great Clock—­(Rue de la Grosse Horloge) which runs in a straight line from the western front of the Cathedral, at right angles with the Rue des Carmes, is probably the most important, ancient, and interesting.  When we were conveyed, on our entrance, (in the cabriolet of the Diligence) beneath the arch to the upper part of which this old fashioned clock is attached, we were lost in admiration at the singularity of the scene.  The inhabitants saw, and enjoyed, our astonishment.  There is a fountain beneath, or rather on one side of this arch; over which is sculptured a motley group of insipid figures, of the latter time of Louis XIV.  The old tower near this clock merits a leisurely survey:  as do also some old houses, to the right, on looking at it.  It was within this old tower that a bell was formerly tolled, at nine o’clock each evening, to warn the inhabitants abroad to return within the walls of the city.[61]

Turning to the left, in this street, and going down a sharp descent, we observed a stand of hackney coaches in a small square, called La Place de la Pucelle:  that is, the place where the famous JEANNE D’ARC[62] was imprisoned, and afterwards burnt.  What sensations possess us as we gaze on each surrounding object!—­although, now, each surrounding object has undergone a palpable change!  Ah, my friend—­what emotions were once excited within this small space!