As this was unnecessary, we thanked him and departed; and, arriving soon after at the station, found our deaf and dumb porter had not played us false.  He was cunning enough to ask us three times his proper fare, and when we gave him half his demand seemed surprised at so much liberality.  Conversation had to be carried on with paper and pencil, and by signs and tokens.

The train started after a great flourish of trumpets.  We had a journey of many hours before us through North Brittany; for Brittany is a hundred years behind the rest of France, and however slow the trains may be in Fair Normandy they are still slower in the Breton Provinces.  In due time we reached Dinan, when we joined the train that had come round from St. Malo.

Nothing in Brittany is more lovely and striking than the situation of Dinan.  It overlooks the Rance, and from the train we looked down into an immense valley.

Everywhere the eye rested upon a profusion of wild uncultivated verdure.  The granite cliffs were steep and wooded.  Far in the depths “the sacred river ran.”  A few boats and barges sailing up and down, passed under the lovely viaduct; Brittany peasant girls were putting off from the shallow bank with small cargoes of provisions, evidently coming from some market.  Under the rugged cliffs ran a long row of small, unpretending houses, level with the river; a paradise sheltered, one would think, from all the winds of heaven:  yet even here, no doubt, the east wind finds a passage for its sharp tooth to warp the waters.

[Illustration:  ST. MALO.]

Further on one caught sight of an old church, evidently in the hands of the Philistines, under process of restoration, and an ancient monastery.  The town crowned the cliffs, but very little could be seen beyond churches and steeples.  We left it to a future time.

The train went through beautiful and undulating country until it reached Lamballe, picturesquely placed on the slope of a hill watered by a small stream, and crowned by the ancient and romantic ruins of the Castle which belonged to the Counts of Penthievre, and was dismantled by Cardinal Richelieu.  A fine Gothic building, of which we easily traced the outlines.  The present church of Notre Dame was formerly the chapel of the Castle.

Here we longed to explore, but it did not enter into our plans.  So, also, the interesting town of Guingamp had to be passed over for the present.

For we were impatient to see Morlaix.  Having heard much of its picturesqueness and antiquity, we hoped for great things.  Yet our experiences began in an adventurous and not very agreeable manner.

Darkness had fallen when we reached the old town, after a long and tedious journey.  Nothing is so tiring as a slow train, which crawls upon the road and lingers at every station.  Of Morlaix we could see nothing.  We felt ourselves rumbling over a viaduct which seemed to reach the clouds, and far down we saw the lights of the town shining like stars; so that, with the stars above, we seemed to be placed between two firmaments; but that was all.  Everything was wrapped in gloom and mystery.  The train steamed into the station and its few lights only rendered darkness yet more visible.  The passengers stumbled across the line in a small flock to the point of exit.