a good country for a traveller minded as I was. The
scenery is not grand. It does not exact the highest admiration; but it
is, perhaps, not on that account the less suitable for the purpose of
those who seek repose. The country is very like the most rich and
beautiful parts of England. Its lanes and hedge-rows are indeed so
thoroughly English, as to suggest that it was laid out under influences
similar to those which determined the aspect of the country in England,
and unlike those which determined it in other parts of France. It is
well wooded; and as the trees stand not in masses, but in lines along
the hedge-rows, you see distinctly the form of each tree. This is one of
its characteristic features. The number of poplars interspersed with the
trees of rounder outline is another, and very grateful to the eye. The
general greenness rivals that of England. The valleys are wide, and the
views from the hill-tops very extensive. I am speaking chiefly of the
western part of Normandy: the parts about Caen approach more nearly to
the flatness, monotony, and dreary treelessness of ordinary French and
German scenery. The air is pure and bracing,--especially in the little
towns built on old castled heights. Why do we not always build our
towns, when we can, on heights, in what Shakespeare calls nimble and
sweet air?
The Norman towns are full of grand old churches, old castles, historic
memories, shadows of the past. In these, where I spent most of my
holiday, there are no garrisons, no Zouaves, no _fanfares_, no signs of
the presence of the empire, except occasionally the abode of a
_sous-prefet_. The province retains a good deal of its old character. In
the great towns, such as Rouen and Caen, the people are French; but in
the country they are Normans still. The French are sensible of the
difference, and do the Normans the honor (as, if I were a Norman, I
should think it) of acknowledging it by habitual flouts and sneers at
the "heavy" race who inhabit "the land of cider."
If you do not mind outward appearances,--if you have the resolution to
penetrate beyond a very dirty entrance, perhaps through the kitchen,
into the rooms within,--you may make yourself extremely comfortable in a
little Norman inn. You have only to behave to your landlord and landlady
as a guest, not as a customer, and you will find yourself treated with
the utmost civility and kindness. You will get a large, airy room, not
so tidy as an English room, but w
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