children need not play on dustheaps and under carriage-wheels. There is
a small open square in the heart of Rouen, laid out with rocks and
trees, and a waterfall, which we should dearly like to shew to certain
'parish guardians.'

The modern business-like aspect of Rouen communicates itself even to
religious matters, and before we have been here long, we think nothing
of seeing piles of crucifixes, and 'Virgins and children', put out in
the street in boxes for sale, at a 'fabrique d'ornaments de l'église.'
We, the people of Rouen, do a great business in _chasublerie_, and the
like; we drive hard bargains for images of the Saviour in zinc and iron
(they are catalogued for us, and placed in rows in the shop windows); we
purchase _lachryma Christi_ by the dozen; and, for a few sous, may
become possessed of the whole paraphernalia of the Holy Manger.

We have been cheated so often at Rouen, that we are inclined to ask the
question whether we, English people, really possess a higher working
morality than the French. Are we really more straightforward and
honourable than they? Are there bounds which they overstep and which we
cannot pass? It has been our pride for centuries to be considered more
noble and manly than many of our neighbours; is there any reason to fear
that our moral influence is on the wane, in these days of universal
interchange of thought, free-trade, and rapid intercommunication?

In the course of our journey through Normandy, we have not said much
about modern paintings, but at Rouen we are reminded that there are many
French artists hard at work. The most prominent painters are those of
the school of Edouard Frère, who depict scenes of cottage life, with the
earnestness, if not always with the elevated sentiment of Mason, Walker,
and other, younger, English painters. The works of many of these French