d curious houses with gables and
towers--one street most picturesque, very narrow, with wooden houses,
their projecting roofs coming so far over the street one could hardly
see the sky in some places. There were all kinds of balconies and
cornices most elaborately carved--the wood so dark one could scarcely
distinguish the original figures and devices, but some of them were
extraordinary, dragons, and enormous winged animals. We did not linger
very long as we were in our new auto--a Martini hill-climber--built in
Switzerland and, of course (like all automobilists), were anxious to
make as fast a run as possible between Villers and Caen.

The approach to Caen is not particularly interesting--the country is
flat, the road running through poplar-bordered fields--one does not see
it at all until one gets quite near, and then suddenly beautiful towers
and steeples seem to rise out of the green meadows. It was
Saturday--market day--and the town was crowded--every description of
vehicle in the main street and before the hotel, two enormous red
60-horse-power Mercedes--farmers' gigs and donkey carts with cheeses and
butter--a couple generally inside--the man with his blue smock and
broad-brimmed hat, the woman with a high, clean, stiff-starched muslin
cap, a knit shawl over her shoulders. They were not in the least
discomposed by the bustle and the automobiles, never thought of getting
out of the way--jogged comfortably on keeping to their side of the road.

We left the auto at the hotel and found many others in the court-yard,
and various friends. The d'Y----s had come over from Grangues (their
place). He is Conseiller General of Calvados, and market day, in a
provincial town, is an excellent occasion for seeing one's electors.
There were also some friends from Trouville-Deauville, most of them in
autos--some in light carriages. We tried to make a rendezvous for tea at
the famous patissier's (who sends his cakes and bonbons over half the
department), but that was not very practical, as they had all finished
what they had to do and we had not even begun our sightseeing. However,
d'Y---- told us he would leave our names at the tea-room, a sort of club
they have established over the patissier's, where we would be quieter
and better served than in the shop which would certainly be crowded on
Saturday afternoon. We walked about till we were dead tired.

St. Pierre is a fine old Norman church with beautiful tower and steeple.
It s