The last wave of your handkerchief, when we parted from you at Southampton, made me feel quite sad for some time; but the bustling scene around me at length diverted my thoughts from their gloomy course, and I employed myself in observing the rapid movements of the sailors, as they obeyed the orders of their captain, who had the voice of a stentor, and took no pains to soften it. Our fellow passengers were an elderly gentleman and his two sons, whom he was going to place at a boarding school near Havre. We reached this celebrated port in the evening, and I am happy to tell you (now that it is over,) not without an adventure. Our parents and Edgar were not very sea sick, but alas! for Sigismund and myself; we were the Jobs of the party. I mean as regards suffering, not patience; for of the last we both stood in need. I already detest the sea, and dread re-crossing it. But all this time you are unacquainted with our adventure; it was this. When within a few miles of Havre, a sudden squall arose, and for more than an hour our situation was truly terrifying. Fortunately the wind blew from the land, or we should have been wrecked on the "iron bound coast" which was very near us. The sails of our small vessel flapped with such violence, that the captain says they must have been torn to pieces if they had not been perfectly new. We have occupied ourselves since our arrival here, in walking about the town and riding in its neighborhood. Yesterday we visited the two light houses on Cape la Héve, and ascended one of them to view from its roof the surrounding country, which is beautiful, and bounded on three sides by the ocean. We purchased of an old woman residing in the light house, some specimens of shell work; and I chose for you a little dog, ingeniously made of small white shells, whose tiny black eyes shine as brightly as your own. This morning we surveyed the Frescati Baths, and the reservoir for oysters in front of them. The baths are kept in elegant order, and the spacious mansion containing them presents a handsome exterior. I did not relish the oysters; they taste of copperas, as do those we get at home—and this is natural enough, as they come out of the same waters. On the shore, contiguous to the bathing establishment, we witnessed the amusing spectacle of ladies and gentlemen in Turkish costume, struggling in the briny element, whose billows almost threw them down, although supported by the arms of sturdy sailors, and clinging to ropes suspended from stakes on the beach. Last night we went to the theatre, and were much entertained by the performance of Lepeintre, an excellent comic actor from Paris. Havre is enclosed by lofty walls, outside of which are deep moats, and the borders of these are covered with a bright verdure. In the town there is a pleasant walk shaded by lime trees, and the square in front of the theatre is laid off in gravel walks, with seats on each side. Here the gentry of the city, and hosts of children, with their nurses to guard them, assemble every afternoon. It is also usual for a military band to play there at sunset. The most interesting object in Havre is an old structure called the "Tower of Francis the First," in which that monarch was sumptuously feasted by the [primeval] inhabitants of this place, three centuries ago. But money must have been of extreme value, and provisions very cheap in that age, as it is said the banquet cost only thirty pounds; or perhaps what then was considered a feast, would in these days of luxury be thought an ordinary meal. The following anecdote will give you an idea of the strength of the edifice. A crazy soldier once shut himself up in it while the garrison were dining, and although he was strongly besieged, maintained possession for two hours ere he was overcome. As we are to rise at five o'clock to-morrow morning, for the purpose of embarking for Rouen in the steamboat, I most retire to rest. Accept our love, and remember us affectionately to aunt Margaret and Albert. I hope you had a safe journey home from Southampton, and found all well at the Lodge. Yours,
LEONTINE.
LETTER SECOND.
The Seine—Quillebeuf—Candebeck—Curious Rite at the Village of St. Arnold—La Mailleraie—Abbey of Jamièges—Charles the Seventh and Agnes Sorrel—Chateau of Robert le Diable—Arrival at Rouen.
ROUEN, ——.
My Dear Jane:—
What a silly creature you are to be sure!—to have preferred the shades of Morren Lodge, and the company of good aunt Margaret, (not to say that of somebody else, for fear of a blush,) to accompanying us in our present tour! I am more and more enchanted as we proceed, and cannot help bewailing your decision, whenever we are partaking of any pleasure or amusement. 'Tis true, you tell us that after your marriage next spring, Albert intends visiting the continent; but dear me! how many things may occur in the meanwhile to alter your plans. Nay, the knot may never be tied—for its no "wonder of wonders" now-a-days for lads and lasses to change their minds. And should you prove a "constant couple," and the wedding take place, I doubt that Albert will be able to tear himself from his books and musty parchments. You know I've often told you, that he never would have fallen in love with your ladyship, I'm convinced, had he not surprised you that eventful morning in papa's study, reading the life of the American President Thomas Jefferson, while the rest of us were playing at battledore on the lawn; and this you may tell him if you choose. "Well, enough of rattle, Leontine, (I hear you say,) and do let's have something interesting." So you shall, sister Jane; and I hasten to give you an account of our voyage from Havre to this ancient capital. It was delightful! We were favored with clear skies and propitious breezes, and remained on deck the whole day to enjoy the scenery, for the banks of the Seine are highly cultivated, and at every turn present beautiful points of view. We glided by many villages, and several monasteries and castles. Among the former I will only mention Quillebeuf and Candebeck. Quillebeuf is famous for its ninety-nine pilots; and as the navigation there is extremely dangerous for vessels, they have full employment. It is remarkable that their number has always been ninety-nine from time immemorial. Candebeck is situated immediately on the bank of the river, and Vernet, the celebrated marine painter, pronounced the view from its quay one of the most beautiful water prospects in France. An old lady on board the steamboat, told mamma and myself, as we were passing Candebeck, that a few miles from it there is a village called St. Arnold, which contains a pool of stagnant water, that many credulous people believe efficacious in healing cutaneous diseases, and that at a certain period of the year, numbers who are afflicted with such disorders go to bathe in the pool. First, however, a particular ceremony must be performed, or the water will have no effect. Each applicant for health, must steal from the neighboring woods a stick, and cast it down to assist in forming a pile. In the evening this is set on fire by the curate of the village, who comes forth dressed in his sacerdotal robes, and accompanied by priests chanting a hymn. When the smoke begins to darken the air, a white pigeon is let loose from the spire of the church, and the poor deluded sufferers firmly believe it to be the holy ghost descending from heaven to cure them! Quillebeuf and Candebeck are both associated with historical recollections. The former was fortified by Henry the Fourth, who considered it an important point, and wished to have it called Henry'sville, after himself. This was not done however, and since his death the fortifications have been destroyed. It was at Candebeck that William the Conqueror crossed the Seine in 1047, on his way to Arques, to quell a sedition among the people there, under the Count of Arques. It was governed by the famous Talbot during the reign of Henry the Fifth of England, and the inhabitants distinguished themselves by their bravery in a combat with the English. At one period it was noted for its manufactures of hats and gloves; and at that time no one of bon ton would wear a hat that was not made at Candebeck. The revocation of the edict of Nantz proved a death blow to the industry of this town. Soon after leaving it, we passed the Chateau of La Mailleraie, once the residence of Mademoiselle De la Vallière, during her youth. The mansion is spacious, and its gardens and thickets looked very inviting. In 1824 the Duchess of Berri visited this retreat, and breakfasted in the garden; and to commemorate this circumstance, a white marble column has been erected there. I wonder they did not surmount it with a coffee-pot. Beyond La Mailleraie the scenery is rather monotonous, but at length you approach the Abbey of Jamièges, (founded by Saint Philibert,) and the landscape becomes lovely. This noble ruin, with its numerous Gothic windows, was a majestic spectacle. Being situated on a peninsula, round which our course extended, we had a view of it for a considerable time; at last, to my regret, it faded from our sight. Charles the Seventh built a fine villa in the neighborhood of Jamièges, and here the beautiful, but sinful and unhappy Agnes Sorrel, resided. At her death her heart was deposited in the Abbey, and her body carried to Loches, where it was interred with great ceremony in the choir of the collegiate church, for Agnes had been extremely munificent to the canons of Loches, giving them two thousand crowns and quantities of jewels, tapestry and pictures; and these crafty ecclesiastics paid her remains all due respect during the life of Charles the Seventh, her royal lover; but after his demise, while Louis the Eleventh was visiting their church, knowing that he detested Agnes, and designing to flatter him, they pointed out her tomb and requested permission to have it removed. "I consent," replied the monarch, (indignant at their duplicity and ingratitude,) "but you must first restore the riches she lavished upon you." The last object I will now describe to you is the Chateau of "Robert le Diable," a wicked wretch, whose crimes sullied the earth, and whose spirit is believed by the superstitious still to haunt the places that witnessed them. The scanty remains of his fortress are just visible on a rocky height on the southern bank of the Seine. Beneath the steep you behold La Vacherie, a neat little country seat that is worthy of notice, as being the residence of Madame Bocage when she composed her "Colombiade." We landed at Rouen about six o'clock, and are located in a comfortable hotel, where papa says we will remain until we have seen all the curiosities of this interesting old city. You will therefore hear from me again ere our departure. Yours truly,
LEONTINE.