waters, and a vessel moored to the side, where a Breton woman is hanging
out clothes to dry, and a man on deck is lazily smoking his pipe. Behind
you is a timber yard, sending forth its strawberry-pine perfume. There
is always some attractions in a timber yard. Whether you will or not it
fascinates you; you enter for a moment, and stroll about through the
little alleys between the stacks, as numerous and complicated as the
twistings and turnings of a maze. You imagine yourself once more a boy
playing at hide-and-seek, and revel in the hot sunshine that is pouring
down upon you and bringing out the perfume of the wood.

Returning to the river, your eye wanders far down the stream, until a
large building upon its banks arrests your attention. It looks the
emblem and abode of peace; perhaps is so. It is the ancient Couvent des
Cordeliers, founded by Jean de Rohan, in 1488. But monks no longer tread
its corridors and offer up the midnight mass in its small chapel. It is
now occupied by ladies--les Dames du Calvaire, as they are called. If
the monks were to arise from their little graveyard, would they rush
back horrified and affrighted at such desecration? and if the walls had
voices, would _they_, too, be ungallant enough to cry "To such base uses
do we come?" The ancient convent of the Ursulines has been turned into a
Penitentiary, thus in a measure fulfilling its original destiny.

Not far from Landerneau, also, on the banks of the Elorn, is the Avenue
of the Château de la Joyeuse Garde, celebrated as being the rendezvous
of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Nothing now remains
but the ruins of a subterranean vault and a romantic Gothic Gateway of
the twelfth century, covered with ivy and creeping shrubs. The whole
surroundings are beautiful and romantic; undulations, here wooded and
rocky, there richly cultivated; laughing and fertile slopes running down
into warm and sheltered valleys, through which the river winds its