tands fairly well in the Place St. Pierre, but the houses are much
too near. It should have more space around it. There was a market going
on, on the other side of the square--fruit, big apples and pears,
flowers and fish being heaped up together. The apples looked tempting,
such bright red ones.

We went to the two abbayes--both of them quite beautiful--St.
Etienne--Abbaye aux Hommes was built by William the Conqueror, who was
originally buried there. It is very grand--quite simple, but splendid
proportions--a fitting resting-place for the great soldier, who,
however, was not allowed to sleep his last sleep, undisturbed, in the
city he loved so well. His tomb was desecrated several times and his
remains lost in the work of destruction.

We went on to the Abbaye aux Dames which is very different; smaller--not
nearly so simple. The facade is very fine with two square towers most
elaborately carved, the steeples have long since disappeared; and there
are richly ornamented galleries and balustrades in the interior of the
church, not at all the high solemn vaulted aisles of the Abbaye aux
Hommes. It was founded by Queen Mathilde, wife of William the Conqueror,
and she is buried there--a perfectly simple tomb with an inscription in
Latin. There was at one time a very handsome monument, but it was
destroyed, like so many others, during the Revolution, and the remains
placed, some years after, in the stone coffin where they now rest. We
hadn't time to see the many interesting things in the churches and in
the town, as it was getting late and we wanted some tea before we
started back. We found our way to the patissier's quite easily, but
certainly couldn't have had any tea if d'Y---- had not told us to use
his name and ask for the club-room. The little shop was crowded--people
standing and making frantic dashes into the kitchen for chocolate and
muffins. The club-room upstairs was quite nice--painted white, a good
glass so that we could arrange our hair a little, one or two tables--and
we were attended to at once. They brought us the specialite of the
place--light, hot brioches with grated ham inside--very good and very
indigestible.

We went home by a different road, but it looked just like the
other--fewer little hamlets, perhaps, and great pasture fields, filled
with fine specimens of Norman dray horses and mares with long-legged
colts running alongside of them. It was late when we got home. The
lighthouses of Honfleur an