tored, although in the days of a past proprietor the house contained a
great number of antiques and its fame attracted many distinguished
visitors, including Sir Walter Scott and Victor Hugo.

In writing of the hotel I am likely to forget the splendid painted glass in
the church, but details of the stories told in these beautiful works of the
sixteenth century are given in all good guides.

There is a pleasant valley behind Les Andelys running up towards the great
plateau that occupies such an enormous area of this portion of Normandy.
The scenery as you go along the first part of the valley, through the
little village of Harquency with its tiny Norman church, and cottages with
thatched roofs all velvety with moss, is very charming. The country is
entirely hedge-less, but as you look down upon the rather thirsty-looking
valley below the road, the scenery savours much of Kent; the chalky fields,
wooded uplands and big, picturesque farms suggesting some of the
agricultural districts of the English county. When we join the broad and
straight national road running towards Gisors we have reached the tableland
just mentioned. There are perhaps, here and there, a group of stately elms,
breaking the broad sweep of arable land that extends with no more
undulations for many leagues than those of a sheet of old-fashioned glass.
The horizon is formed by simply the same broad fields, vanishing in a thin,
blue line over the rim of the earth.

[Illustration: THE FORTIFIED FARM NEAR GISORS]

At Les Thilliers, a small hamlet that, owing to situation at cross-roads
figures conspicuously upon the milestones of the neighbourhood, the road to
Gisors goes towards the east, and after crossing the valley of the Epte,
you run down an easy gradient, passing a fine fortified farm-house with
circular towers at each corner of its four sides and in a few minutes have
turned into the historic old town of Gisors. It is as picturesque as any
place in Normandy with the exception of Mont St Michel. The river Epte
gliding slowly through its little canals at the sides of some of the
streets, forms innumerable pictures when reflecting the quaint houses and
gardens whose walls are generally grown over with creepers. Near the ascent
to the castle is one of the washing places where the women let their soap
suds float away on the translucent water as they scrub vigorously. They
kneel upon a long wooden platform sheltered by a charming old roof
supported upon