been seized upon, the interesting old place levelled, and a
factory-like red-brick pile rapidly erected in its place. It was
impossible not to feel a pang at this discovery; I felt that Calais
without its Dessein's had lost its charm. Madame Dessein, a
grand-niece or nearly-related descendant of _le grand Dessein_, still
directs at Quillacq's--a pleasing old lady.

There is still a half hour before me, while the gorgers in 'Maritime
Calais' are busy feeding against time; and while I stand in the
_place_, listening to the wheezy old chimes, I recall a pleasant
excursion, and a holiday that was spent there, at the time when the
annual _fêtes_ were being celebrated. Never was there a brighter day:
all seemed to be new, and the very quintessence of what was
foreign--the gay houses of different heights and patterns were decked
with streamers, their parti-coloured blinds, devices, and balconies
running round the _place_, and furnishing gaudy detail. Here there
used to be plenty of movement, when the Lafitte diligences went
clattering by, starting for Paris, before the voracious railway
marched victoriously in and swallowed diligence, horses,
postilions--bells, boots and all! The gay crowd passing across the
_place_ was making for the huge iron-gray cathedral, quite ponderous
and fortress-like in its character. Here is the grand _messe_ going
on, the Swiss being seen afar off, standing with his halbert under the
great arch, while between, down to the door, are the crowded
congregation and the convenient chairs. Overhead the ancient organ is
pealing out with rich sound, while the sun streams in through the
dim-painted glass on the old-fashioned costumes of the fish-women,
just falling on their gold earrings _en passant_. There is a dreamy
air about this function, which associated itself, in some strange way,
with bygone days of childhood, and it is hard to think that about two