some other presiding genius; of '_magasins les plus vastes du monde_,'
and of '_loteries impériales de France;_' whichever way we turn, we
cannot get rid of these staring affiches; even upon the 'footsteps of
the Conqueror' the bill-sticker seems master of the situation.

We must now speak of Caen as we see it on fête days, but for the
information of those who are interested in it as a place of residence,
we may allude in passing to the very pleasant English society that has
grown up here of late years, to the moderate rents of houses, the good
schools and masters to be met with; the comparative cheapness of
provisions and of articles of clothing, and to the good accommodation at
the principal inns. The situation of Caen, although not perhaps as
healthy as Avranches, is much more convenient and accessible from
England.

_Caen, Sunday, August_, 186-. It is early on Sunday morning, and Caen is
_en fête_. We have reason to know it by the clamour of church bells
which attends the sun's rising. There is terrible energy, not to say
harshness, in thus ushering in the day. On a mountain side, or in some
remote village, the distant sound of bells is musical enough, but here
it is dinned into our ears to distraction; and there seems no method in
the madness of these sturdy Catholics, for they make the tower of St.
Pierre vibrate to most uncertain sounds. They ring out all at once with
a burst and tumble over one another, hopelessly involved, _en masse;_ a
combination terribly dissonant to unaccustomed ears. Then comes the
military _réveille_, and the deafening 'rataplan' of regimental drums,
and the town is soon alive with people arriving and departing by the
early trains; whilst others collect in the market-place in holiday
attire with baskets of flowers, and commence the erection of an altar
to the Virgin in the middle of the square. Then women bring their