d in this way much of the beautiful scenery may be enjoyed. By this
means, however, the country appears as only a series of changing pictures
and to see anything of the detail of such charming places as Caudebec, and
Lillebonne, or the architectural features of Tancarville Castle and the
Abbey of Jumieges, the road must be followed instead of the more leisurely
river.

Havre with its great docks, its busy streets, and fast electric tramcars
that frighten away foot passengers with noisy motor horns does not compel a
very long stay, although one may chance to find much interest among the
shipping, when such vessels as Mr Vanderbilt's magnificent steam yacht,
without a mark on its spotless paint, is lying in one of the inner basins.
If you wander up and down some of the old streets by the harbour you will
find more than one many-storied house with shutters brightly painted, and
dormers on its ancient roof. The church of Notre Dame in the Rue de Paris
has a tower that was in earlier times a beacon, and it was here that three
brothers named Raoulin who had been murdered by the governor Villars in
1599, are buried.

On the opposite side of the estuary of the Seine, lies Honfleur with its
extraordinary church tower that stands in the market-place quite detached
from the church of St Catherine to which it belongs. It is entirely
constructed of timber and has great struts supporting the angles of its
walls. The houses along the quay have a most paintable appearance, their
overhanging floors and innumerable windows forming a picturesque background
to the fishing-boats.

Harfleur, on the same side of the river as Havre, is on the road to
Tancarville. We pass through it on our way to Caudebec. The great spire of
the church, dating from the fifteenth century, rears itself above this
ancient port where the black-sailed ships of the Northmen often appeared in
the early days before Rollo had forced Charles the Simple (he should have
been called "The Straightforward") to grant him the great tract of French
territory that we are now about to explore.

The Seine, winding beneath bold cliffs on one side and along the edge of
flat, rich meadowlands on the other, comes near the magnificent ruin of
Tancarville Castle whose walls enclose an eighteenth century chateau. The
situation on an isolated chalk cliff one hundred feet high was more
formidable a century ago than it is to-day, for then the Seine ran close
beneath the forbidding walls,