land, it is said that great iron rings have been seen in some ruined walls near Graville, which were used some centuries ago for mooring vessels. The ruins are the remains of a very ancient fortress, which protected the barks of the Scandinavians, and which was not entirely demolished sixty years ago. One of the above-mentioned family of Mallet lost his head for espousing the cause of Charles the Bad, king of Navarre, against King John of France; and his son is the hero of an adventure related with great naïveté by Froissart. This William of Graville, in order to avenge his father's death, determined to deliver into the hands of the adherents of Navarre the chateau of Evreux, then an important point; and the method he took displayed equal patience and boldness. The governor, Oudart, was a man of a cold, phlegmatic disposition, who was never, by any accident, off his post, rarely quitting the exterior wicket of the fortress. He one day observed from the walls a gentleman lounging lazily on the esplanade, and looked at him for a moment; the next day his attention was attracted in the same manner; and the next, and the next; till at length, Oudart, a man made up of habit, would have felt a positive inconvenience from missing a sight of the stranger. Sometimes this idler would make a remark as he lounged along; and sometimes the governor himself would speak first: till, in process of time, attracted as if by some chemical affinity, they began to fancy themselves acquainted. One day, as the stranger passed, the governor stood at the outer wicket, and they pulled off their hats to one another with great civility. The stranger soon began to talk of the news of the country; and the governor, who rarely heard anything, listened with something like interest. His attention, however, was still more strongly excited by a remark which fell accidentally from his gossiping companion: "And by the same token," said he, "when my friend sent me this news, he sent me along with it the most capital chess-board in the world." Now, chess happened just to be the thing that Oudart liked best upon earth. He inquired eagerly as to the form of the chess-board, and argued stoutly on the details of the game; till, at length, the stranger-an enthusiast like himself-proposed that they should send for the materials, and try their skill forthwith. His servant happened to be within call, and was accordingly despatched into the town close by, with the governor's hearty consent; and the stranger, in the meantime, suggested that they should go in and prepare the scene for the engagement. Oudart was very willing; and his companion, out of good breeding, complied with his polite desire, by entering first. He then turned round, and seeing the governor stoop his head as he passed under the wicket, William de Graville-for it was he-struck him with a small hatchet, "tellement qu'il le pourfendit jusques aux dents, et l'abattit mort à ses pieds." The chess-men then made their appearance in the form of Navarrian warriors, and took the castle at one move. At the port of Eure, where there now stands a farmhouse, there was formerly a chapel, built in the year 1294, on the edge of the sea, and dedicated to Notre Dame des Neiges. The anchorage at the bottom of the walls was chiefly frequented by small vessels loaded with glass, the feudal duty on which was exacted in rather an odd manner. The merchant was required to present one of the largest of his glasses to the provost, who in turn filled it with wine, which he gave him to drink. If the custom-payer was able to swallow the beverage without drawing breath, it was all very well—he returned the empty glass, and the affair was over; but if unfortunately he paused in the draught, either to enjoy its flavour or to digest his disgust, he was obliged to pay two glasses. It is said that mariners in general consented at once to pay the second glass rather than drink the provost's wine. This antique port is now filled up by the sands washed continually by the action of the tide from the Point of the Hoc. It was here that, in the middle of the seventeenth century, a seventy-gun ship called the 'Rouen' was lost in the quick-sands. There are persons now living, who remember seeing the end of one of her masts above the surface of the water. The chapel of Notre Dame des Neiges stood formerly on an island, although there is now not the slighest trace of any separation from the rest of the land; but when the traveller has reached the further side of the Point, the changes that have taken place in the aspect of the coast are on a scale so great as to strike him with awe. While wandering along the embouchure of the little river Lézarde, in vain he endeavours to discover the roads where the navy of our Henry V once floated in triumph. He ascends the beautiful and quiet stream, in search of the place which Monstrelet calls "le souverain port de Normadie," and arrives at length at a small, neat inland town, without harbour, without fortifications, and surrounded with rich pastures instead of basins, filled with grazing cattle instead of ships. This is Harfleur. Harfleur was once the Havre of the Seine. The merchantships of Spain and Portugal delivered there their cargoes free of duty; and, besides being a great entrepôt of commerce, its home manufactures, particularly of cloth, were held in great estimation. So late as the beginning of the sixteenth century the ships of Harfleur sailed beyond the tropics! At the beginning of the fifteenth century the decline of Harfleur began to take place. In the year 1415, Henry V of England disembarked close to its walls, and besieged the town during forty days; when food and ammunition failing the garrison, at one moment it surrendered to an army of thirty thousand men. Henry, transported with this success, vowed to erect a temple to God on the site of the humble church of Harfleur, worthy of his name; and, in the meantime, pillaging of their property sixteen hundred families of the inhabitants, he sent them prisoners to Calais. The temple was erected "C'est le clocher d'Harfleur, debout pour nous apprendre Twenty years after, a body of one hundred and four of the citizens, rising suddenly, massacred the English garrison, and retook the town. In memory of this deed, it was long the custom at Harfleur-now forgotten-to strike one hundred and four blows on the great bell of the church every morning at daybreak, the hour of the attack. In 1440, this unhappy town again fell into the hands of the "natural enemies" of France; and nine years after was again retaken, by Charles VII in person, "sa salade sur la tête," as Monstrelet says, " et son pavois en main." By this time it was no longer of importance as a maritime town. Its ships, denied access to their parent port by the sands, carried their wealth elsewhere; by and by Havre arose almost by its side; the religious wars of 1562 paralysed its remaining industry; and in 1685, the revocation of the |