by a blaze of gold in the west, but those
who are fortunate enough to see such an effect may get a small suggestion
of the scene from the illustration given here. The little painted figure of
the Virgin and Child stands in a niche just over the arch, and by it
appears the prayer "Marie protege la ville!"

One of the charms of Vire is its cleanliness, for I can recall no
unpleasant smells having interfered with the pleasure of exploring the old
streets. There is a great market on the northern side of the town, open and
breezy. It slopes clear away without any intervening buildings to a great
expanse of green wooded country, suggestive of some of the views that lie
all around one at Avranches. The dark old church of Notre Dame dates mainly
from the twelfth century. Houses and small shops are built up against it
between the buttresses in a familiar, almost confidential manner, and on
the south side, the row of gargoyles have an almost humorous appearance.
The drips upon the pavement and shops below were evidently a nuisance, and
rain water-spouts, with plain pipes leading diagonally from them, have been
attached to each grotesque head, making it seem that the grinning monsters
have developed a great and unquenchable thirst. Inside, the church is dark
and impressive. There are double rows of pillars in the aisles, and a huge
crucifix hangs beneath the tower, thrown up darkly against the chancel,
which is much painted and gilded. The remains of the great castle consist
of nothing more than part of the tall keep, built eight hundred years ago,
and fortunately not entirely destroyed when the rest of the castle came
down by the order of Cardinal Richelieu. An exploration of the quaint
streets of Vire will reveal two or three ancient gateways, many gabled
houses, some of which are timber-framed visually, and most of them are the
same beneath their skins of plaster. The houses in one of the streets are
connected with the road by a series of wooden bridges across the river,
which there forms one of the many pictures to be found in Vire.

Mortain is separated from Vire by fifteen miles of exceedingly hilly
country, and those who imagine that all the roads in Normandy are the flat
and poplar bordered ones that are so often encountered, should travel along
this wonderful switch-back. As far as Sourdeval there seems scarcely a yard
of level ground--it is either a sudden ascent or a breakneck rush into a
trough-like depression. You pas