brance will be ever dear. Our informants pointed out
a small chapel, which they described as being very beautiful, which
she had built as a depository for her husband's heart; this precious
relic she carried away with her when she left Rosny, which she quitted
with the regrets of every human being in the neighbourhood.

The chateau has been purchased by an English banker, but is now
uninhabited: there was a report of its being about to be pulled down.
It is a large, heavy building, not distinguished by any architectural
beauty, yet having an imposing air, from its extent and solidity.
It is surrounded by fine woods and pleasure-grounds, laid out in
the formal style, which is still the characteristic of French
landscape-gardening. Nothing can be more beautiful than the
surrounding scenery, the winding river with its vineyards hanging
in terraces from the opposite heights, the village reposing beneath
sun-lit hills, while corn-fields, pasture-land, and cattle grazing,
convey the most pleasing ideas of the comfort of those who dwell upon
this luxuriant soil.

The city of Mantes now appeared in the distance, and as we approached
it, our guides pointed out, on the opposite heights of Gassicourt,
a hermitage and Calvary, which had formerly proved a great source
of profit. An ascetic, of great pretensions to sanctity, took up his
abode many years ago in this retreat, carrying on a thriving trade,
every boat that passed contributing twopence, for which consideration
the hermit rung a bell, to announce their arrival at the bridge of
Mantes, giving notice to the town, in order to facilitate the transfer
of baggage or passengers. This tax or tribute the hermit was not
himself at the trouble of collecting, it being scrupulously despatched
to him by the donors, who would have deemed it sinful to deprive the
holy man of what they considered his just due.

The sort of piety, which once supported so great a multitude of
religious mendicants, is greatly on the decline in France. A few
crosses on the bridges and heights, and the dresses of the priesthood
whom we encountered in the streets, were the only exterior signs of
Roman Catholicism which we had yet seen. Our boatmen spoke with great
respect of the Sisters of Charity, pointing out a convent which they
inhabited, and told us that during illness they had themselves been
greatly indebted to the care and attention of these benevolent women.

It was now growing dark, and we very nar