pression of the
defence of La Rochelle. The _hotel de ville_ is a pretty little
building, in the style of the Renaissance of Francis I.; but it has left
much of its interest in the hands of the restorers. It has been "done
up" without mercy; its natural place would be at Rochelle the New. A
sort of battlemented curtain, flanked with turrets, divides it from the
street and contains a low door (a low door in a high wall is always
felicitous), which admits you to an inner court, where you discover the
face of the building. It has statues set into it and is raised upon a
very low and very deep arcade. The principal function of the deferential
old portress who conducts you over the place is to call your attention
to the indented table of Jean Guiton; but she shows you other objects of
interest besides. The interior is absolutely new and extremely
sumptuous, abounding in tapestries, upholstery, morocco, velvet, satin.
This is especially the case with a really beautiful _grande salle_,
where, surrounded with the most expensive upholstery, the mayor holds
his official receptions. (So at least said my worthy portress.) The
mayors of La Rochelle appear to have changed a good deal since the days
of the grim Guiton; but these evidences of municipal splendour are
interesting for the light they throw on French manners. Imagine the
mayor of an English or an American town of twenty thousand inhabitants
holding magisterial soirees in the town hall! The said _grande salle_,
which is unchanged in form and in its larger features, is, I believe,
the room in which the Rochelais debated as to whether they should shut
themselves up, and decided in the affirmative. The table and chair of
Jean Guiton have been restored, like everything else, and are very
elegant and coquettish pieces of furniture--incongruous relics of a
season of starvation and blood. I believe that Protestantism is somewhat
shrunken to-day at La Rochelle, and has taken refuge mainly in the
_haute societe_ and in a single place of worship. There was nothing
particular to remind me of its supposed austerity as, after leaving the
_hotel de ville_, I walked along the empty porticos and out of the Tour
de l'Horloge, which I have already mentioned. If I stopped and looked up
at this venerable monument, it was not to ascertain the hour, for I
foresaw that I should have more time at La Rochelle than I knew what to
do with; but because its high, grey, weather-beaten face was an obvious