the inn where the
family were staying.

If the building had lost the grandeur it possessed for his childish
imagination, it was still full of artistic possibilities for a
beautiful picture.

It is a solid structure, and we fancy that the builders did not have
far to bring the stone of which it is composed. The great granite
cliffs which rise from the sea must be an inexhaustible quarry.
The building is low and broad, to withstand the bleak winds. A less
substantial structure, perched on this plateau, would be swept over
the cliffs into the sea. There is something about it suggestive of the
sturdy character of the Norman peasants themselves, strong, patient,
and enduring. It is very old; the passing years have covered the walls
with moss, and nature seems to have made the place her own. It is as
if, instead of being built with hands, it were a portion of the old
cliffs themselves.

The grassy hillock against which the church nestles is filled with
graves, a cross here and there marking the place where some more
important personage is buried. Here is the sacred spot where Millet's
saintly old grandmother was laid to rest. A rough stone wall surrounds
the churchyard, as old and moss-grown as the building itself. Some
stone steps leading into the yard are hollowed by the feet of many
generations of worshippers. In the rear is a low stone house embowered
in trees.

The square bell-tower lifts a weather-vane against the sky, and the
birds flock about it as about an old home. The rather steep roof is
slightly depressed, as if beginning to sink in.

With a painter's instinct Millet chose the point of view from which
all the lines of the church would be most beautiful and whence we may
see to the best advantage the quaint outlines of the tower. Beside
this, he took for his work the day and hour when that great artist,
the sun, could lend most effective help. So we see the simple little
building at its best. The sky makes a glorious background, with fleecy
clouds delicately veiling its brilliancy. The bright light throws
a shadow of the tower across the roof, breaking the monotony of its
length. The bareness of the big barn-like end is softened by the
shadow in which it is seen. The plain side is decorated with the
shadows of the buttresses and window embrasures.

The sheep are as much at home here as the birds. They nibble
contentedly in the road by the wall, and are undisturbed by the
approach of a villager. Beyond, a