THE MAID OF ORLEANS.

RETURNING to the Grande Rue, and passing the Tour de la Grosse Horloge, we reach presently the Place de la Pucelle.

The area of this spot, filled at once with ennobling and humiliating associations, is small. A well and a statuethe latter inferior even to that at Orleans itself-marks the place where the heroic girl died. Some hackney-coachmen sleep on their boxes close by; the population of the city floats along, without turning the head-without raising the eyes.

The Protestant church of Saint Eloi, close beside the hotel, merits little attention. It stood formerly upon an island, which afterwards formed part of the terres neuves that, in the eleventh century, were the fauxbourgs of Rouen.

From the Place Saint Eloi a few steps take us into the Rue du Vieux Palais, along which we proceed to its end further from the river. Here, on the left, is a narrow street, or rather lane, called the Rue de Pie, into which we entreat the reader to follow us. We stop at a certain door, and contemplate respectfully a bust which ornaments it, neither in bronze nor marble, but in common plaster. Is our companion surprised? Let him cast his eyes a little higher up, and read on the slab fixed in the wall,

PIERRE CORNEILLE

EST NÉ DANS CETTE MAISON

EN 1606.

and was finished by Henry VI, five years before the celebrated siege of Rouen. The governor of the fortress lodged in this tower, the walls of which were fifteen feet thick. The whole edifice was protected on the south by the Seine, and everywhere else by wide and deep ditches.

This palace, of which we do not now see a stone, was inhabited by Talbot, the general of the English, in 1449.

On the site of the Halles there stood a palace built by Richard I, the grandson of Rollo; and by its side a tower was afterwards elevated, which served as a state prison, and was distinguished from more modern constructions by the name of the Vieille Tour. The monument we have mentioned is supposed to be the remains of the building which is pointed out by historians as the place where John Lackland assassinated his young nephew with his own hands.

The Halles, or market-halls, are themselves ancient, dating from the thirteenth century; and it is to them a stranger must still betake himself who would obtain an accurate idea of the wealth, industry, and animation of the Norman capital. A hall is set apart for each of the staple kinds of merchandise; and the scene of bustle presented in them all is hardly surpassed either in England or the Netherlands. The whole population of the country, as well as of the town, seems congregated in one spot. There is the place to study costume and physiognomy; and there you find the descendant of the Norman pirates truly at homebehind his counter.

The Rue Malpalu, behind the Halles, leads us to the church of Maclou, a structure of the fifteenth century, possessing a beautiful Gothic staircase, and the memory of an elegant spire. Near this is the cathedral, to which no

direction is required.

It is impossible to contemplate the façade of this re