vel in the hot sunshine that is pouring
down upon you and bringing out the perfume of the wood.

Returning to the river, your eye wanders far down the stream, until a
large building upon its banks arrests your attention. It looks the
emblem and abode of peace; perhaps is so. It is the ancient Couvent des
Cordeliers, founded by Jean de Rohan, in 1488. But monks no longer tread
its corridors and offer up the midnight mass in its small chapel. It is
now occupied by ladies--les Dames du Calvaire, as they are called. If
the monks were to arise from their little graveyard, would they rush
back horrified and affrighted at such desecration? and if the walls had
voices, would _they_, too, be ungallant enough to cry "To such base uses
do we come?" The ancient convent of the Ursulines has been turned into a
Penitentiary, thus in a measure fulfilling its original destiny.

Not far from Landerneau, also, on the banks of the Elorn, is the Avenue
of the Chateau de la Joyeuse Garde, celebrated as being the rendezvous
of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Nothing now remains
but the ruins of a subterranean vault and a romantic Gothic Gateway of
the twelfth century, covered with ivy and creeping shrubs. The whole
surroundings are beautiful and romantic; undulations, here wooded and
rocky, there richly cultivated; laughing and fertile slopes running down
into warm and sheltered valleys, through which the river winds its
graceful course.

Having made a slight acquaintance with the old streets and ancient
houses, we went back to the inn, where we found the carriage ready to
take us to le Folgoet.

A strong wind had suddenly arisen and clouds of dust accompanied us.
Under ordinary circumstances the drive would have been pleasant, though
uneventful. The road is somewhat monotonous, and very little attracts
the attention beyond small, well-wooded estates, breaking in upon the
long stretches of richly cultivated country, where life ought to run in
a very even tenor.

After awhile we turned into a by-road, and presently descending between
high hedges, the object of our excursion suddenly and unexpectedly
opened up before our astonished vision.

It would be difficult to forget the effect of that first view of le
Folgoet. The high hedges on either side had concealed everything. These
fell away, and within a few yards of us, in a barren and dreary plain
uprose the wonderful church.

A few poor houses and cottages comprise the v