To most men, this diligence travelling is charming—­the seat on the banquette on a fine summer’s day is one of the most enjoyable places in life; it is cheap, and certainly not too rapid (five or six miles an hour being the average); and we can sit almost as comfortably in a corner of the banquette as in an easy-chair.  In this beautiful country we should always either drive or walk, if we have time; the diligence is the most amusing and sometimes the slowest method of progress.  Nobody hurries—­although we carry ‘the mails’ and have a letter-box in the side of the conveyance, where letters are posted as we go along, it is scarcely like travelling—­the free and easy way in which people come and go on the journey is more like ‘receiving company’ than taking up passengers.  As we jog along, to the jingling of bells and the creaking of rusty iron, the people that we overtake on the road keep accumulating on our vehicle one by one, as we approach a town, until we become encrusted with human things like a rock covered with limpets.  There is no shaking them off, the driver does not care, and they certainly do not all pay.  It is a pleasant family affair which we should all be sorry to see disturbed; and the roads are so good and even, that it does not matter much about the load.  The neglect and cruelty to the horses, which we are obliged to witness, is certainly one drawback,[57] and the dust and crowding on market days, are not always pleasant; but we can think of no other objections in fine weather, to this quiet method of seeing the country.

Much has been said in favour of ‘a walking tour in Normandy,’ but we venture to question its thorough enjoyment when undertaken for long distances; and it can scarcely be called ‘economical to walk,’ unless the pedestrian’s time is of no value to other people.

Let us be practical, and state the cost of travelling over the whole of the ground that we have mapped out.  We may assume that the most determined pedestrian will not commence active operations until he reaches Havre, or some other seaport town.  From Havre to Pont Audemer by steamboat; thence by road or railway to all the towns on our route (visiting Rouen by the Seine, from Honfleur), and so back to Havre, will cost a ‘knapsack-traveller’ 46 francs 50 c., if he takes the banquette of the diligence and travels third class, by railway.  Thus it is a question of less than two pounds, for those who study economy, whilst at least a month’s time is saved by taking the diligence.

One argument for walking is, that you may leave the high roads at pleasure, and see more of the country and of the people; but the pedestrian has his day’s work before him, and must spend the greater part of an August day on the dusty road, in order to reach his destination.  There are districts, such as those round Vire and Mortain, which are exceptionally hilly, where he might walk from town to town; but he will not see the country as well, even there, as from the elevated position of a banquette.  The finest parts of Normandy are generally in the neighbourhood of towns which the traveller (who has driven to them) can explore on his arrival, without fatigue; chacun a son gout—­these smooth, well-levelled roads are admirably adapted for velocipedes—­but we confess to preferring the public conveyances, to any other method of travelling in France.