the left, a few miles out of Caen on the road to Creully, stands the
Abbaye d'Ardennes where Charles VII. lodged when his army was besieging
the city in 1450. The buildings are now used as a farm, and the church
is generally stacked with hay and straw up to the triforium.

Although they start towards the east, the canal and the river Orne
taking parallel courses run generally towards the north, both entering
the sea by the village of Ouistreham, the ancient port of Caen. Along
the margin of the canal there is a good road, and almost hidden by the
long grass outside the tall trees that line the canal on each bank,
runs the steam tramway to Cabourg and the coast to the west of the
Orne. Except when the fussy little piece of machinery drawing three or
four curious, open-sided trams, is actually passing, the tramway
escapes notice, for the ground is level and the miniature rails are
laid on the ground without any excavating or embanking. The scenery as
you go along the tramway, the road, or the canal, is charming, the
pastures on either side being exceedingly rich, and the red and white
cattle seem to revel in the long grass and buttercups. Heronville,
Blainville and other sleepy villages are pleasantly perched on the
slight rise on the western side of the canal. Their churches, with red
roofs all subdued with lichen into the softest browns, rise above the
cottages or farm buildings that surround them in the ideal fashion that
is finally repeated at Ouistreham where locks impound the waters of the
canal, and a great lighthouse stands out more conspicuously than the
church tower. Seen through the framework of closely trimmed trees
Ouistreham makes a notable picture. The great Norman church is so
exceedingly imposing for such a mere village, that it is easy to
understand how, as a port in the Middle Ages, Ouistreham flourished
exceedingly.

The tramway crosses the canal at Benouville on its way to Cabourg, and
leaving the shade of birches and poplars takes its way over the open fields
towards the sea. Benouville is best remembered on account of its big
chateau with a great classic portico much resembling a section of Waterloo
Place perched upon a fine terraced slope. Ranville has an old church tower
standing in lonely fashion by itself, and you pass a conspicuous calvary as
you go on to the curious little seaside resort known as Le Home-Sur-Mer.
The houses are bare and (if one may coin a word) seasidey. Perched here and
the