I was scarcely out of the town half a mile, when I began to ascend.  I found myself quickly in the middle of those rising grounds which are seen from the promenade or Place du Caffe, and could not look without extraordinary gratification upon the beautiful character of spring in its advanced state.  The larch was even yet picturesque:  the hazel and nut trees were perfectly clothed with foliage, of a tender yet joyous tint:  the chestnut was gorgeously in bloom; the lime and beech were beginning to give abundant promise of their future luxuriance—­while the lowlier tribes of laburnum and box, with their richly clad branches, covered the ground beneath entirely from view.  The apple and pear blossoms still continued to variegate the wide sweep of foliage, and to fill the air with their delicious perfume.  It might be Switzerland in miniature—­or it might not.  Only this I know—­that it seemed as though one could live embosomed and enchanted in such a wilderness of sweets—­reading the fabliaux of the old Norman bards till the close of human existence!

I found myself on a hard, strait, chalky old road—­evidently Roman:  and in due time perceived and entered the town of LILLEBONNE.  But the sky had become overcast:  soft and small rain was descending, and an unusual gloom prevailed ... when I halted, agreeably to my instructions, immediately before the gate of the ancient Castle.  Venerable indeed is this Norman castle, and extensive are the ruins which have survived.  I have a perfect recollection how it peeped out upon me—­through the light leaf of the poplar, and the pink blossom of the apple.  It lies close to the road, on the left.  An old round tower, apparently of the time of William the Conqueror, very soon attracts your attention.  The stones are large, and the interstices are also very considerable.  It was here, says a yet current report, that William assembled the Barons of Normandy, and the invasion of England was determined upon.  Such a spot therefore strikes an English beholder with no ordinary emotions.  I alighted; sent the cabriolet to the inn, and wished both postilion and horses to get their dinners without delay.  For myself, I had resolved to reserve my appetite till I reached Bolbec; and there was food enough before me of a different description, to exercise my intellectual digestion for at least the next hour.  Knocking at the massive portals, I readily obtained admittance.

The area, entirely a grass-plat, was occupied by several cows.  In front, were evidently the ruins of a large chapel or church—­perhaps of the XIVth century.  The outer face of the walls went deeply and perpendicularly down to the bottom of a dry fosse; and the right angle portion of the building was covered with garden ground, where the owner showed us some peas which he boasted he should have at his table within five days.  I own I thought he was very likely to carry his boast into execution; for finer