Had it remained in Flemish hands, it would now have been flourishing.
I doubt if any English visitor ever troubles its stagnant repose. Yet
it boasts its 'grand' _place_, imposing enough as a memorial of
departed greatness, and, as usual, a Flemish relic, in the shape of a
charming belfry and town-hall combined. It was really truly
'fantastical' from the airiness of its little cupolas and galleries,
and was in tolerable order. Like the old Calais watch-tower, it was
caked round by, and embedded in, old houses, and had its four curious
gargoyles still doing work.

On this 'grand' _place_ I noticed an old house bearing date '1625,'
and some wonderful feats in the way of red-tiled roofing, of which
there were enormous stretches, all narrow, sinuous, and suggesting
Nuremberg. I confess to having spent a rather weary hour here, and
sped away by the next train.




VIII.

_LILLE._


Two o'clock. We are on the road again; the sun is shining, and we are
speeding on rapidly--changing from Flanders to France--which is but an
hour or so away. Here the bright day is well forward. Now the welcome
fat Flemish country takes military shape, for here comes the scarp,
the angled ditch, the endless brick walling and embankment--a genuine
fortified town of the first class--LILLE. Here, too, many travellers