one of the hills, a long procession of men and
women--headed by an ecclesiastic, elevating a cross--who were about to
celebrate, at some little distance, one of their annual festivals. The
effect--as the procession came in contact with a bright blue sky, softened
by distance--was uncommonly picturesque ... but the day was getting on
fast, and there was yet a considerable distance to perform,--while, in
addition, we had to encounter the most impassable part of the road.
Besides, I had not yet eaten a morsel since I had left Vire. Upon holding a
consultation, therefore, it was resolved to make for the inn, and to dine
there. A more sheltered, rural, spot cannot be conceived. It resembled very
many of the snug scenes in South Wales. Indeed the whole country was of a
character similar to many parts of Monmouthshire; although with a miserable
draw-back in respect to the important feature of _wood_. Through the whole
of Normandy, you miss those grand and overshadowing masses of oak, which
give to Monmouthshire, and its neighbouring county of Glocester, that rich
and majestic appearance which so decidedly marks the character of those
counties. However, we are now at the inn at Pont Ouilly. A dish of river
fish, gudgeons, dace, and perch, was speedily put in requisition. Good
wine, "than which France could boast no better!" and a roast fowl, which
the daughter of the hostess "knew how to dress to admiration" ... was all
that this humble abode could afford us." "But we were welcome:"--that is,
upon condition that we paid our reckoning....

The dinner would be ready in a "short half hour." Mr. Lewis, went to the
bridge, to look around, for the purpose of exercising his pencil: while I
sauntered more immediately about the house. Within five minutes a
well-looking, and even handsome, young woman--of an extremely fair
complexion--her hair cut close behind--her face almost smothered in a white
cap which seemed of crape--and habited in a deep black--passed quickly by
me, and ascended a flight of steps, leading to the door of a very humble
mansion. She smiled graciously at the _aubergiste_ as she passed her, and
quickly disappeared. On enquiry, I was told that she was a nun, who, since
the suppression of the convent to which she had belonged, earned her
livelihood by teaching some of the more respectable children in the
village. She had just completed her twentieth year. I was now addressed by
a tall, bluff, shabby-looking man--who soon