Ouen; and we do this, not only because it is more picturesque, but
because the modern aspect of Rouen is familiar to the majority of our
readers.

But we must examine the old buildings whilst there is time, for (as in
other towns of Normandy) the work of demolition grows fast and furious;
and the churches, the _Palais de Justice_, the courts of law, and the
tower of the _Grosse Horloge_ will soon be all that is left to us. The
narrow winding streets of gable-ended houses, with their strange
histories, will soon be forgotten by all but the antiquary; for there is
a ruthless law that no more half-timbered houses shall be built, and
another that everything shall be in line.

We are surrounded by old houses, but cannot easily find them, and when
discovered they almost crumble at the touch--they fade away as if by
magic; and there is a halo of mystery, we might almost say of sanctity,
about them which is indescribable; it is as if the blossoms of an early
age still clung to the old walls and garlanded with time-wreaths their
tottering ruins.

Rouen is disappearing like a dissolving view--a few more slides in the
magic lantern, a few more windows of plate-glass, a few more '_grandes
rues_' and the picture of old Rouen fades away.

Let us hasten to the _Place de la Pucelle_, and examine the carving on
the houses, and on the _Hôtel Bourgthéroude_, before the great Parisian
conjuror waves his wand once more. But, hey presto! down they come, in a
street hard by--even whilst we write, a great panel totters to the
ground--heraldic shields, with a border of flowers and pomegranates,
carved in oak; clusters of grapes and diaper patterns of rich design,