We have taken up our quarters at the Hotel des Princes, in the place Pucelle D'Orleans. In the centre is the statue of this famous personage, erected upon the spot where she was burnt. The house in which she was tried and condemned is close by.

We have already witnessed, in this city, the Roman Catholic worship in all its pomp. We were at the Cathedral this evening, and heard the vespers. To-morrow is one of the greatest festivals of the Romish church, the Fête Dieu, and the most magnificent procession in honour of it is to take place. The Cardinal Archbishop of Rouen is to grace it with his presence. The people are lining their houses with carpets, sheets and tapestry-and strewing the streets through which it is to pass with flowIt is to move at four o'clock in the afternoon.

ers.

Adieu,

Your's, &c.

LETTER IV.

Rouen.

MY DEAR

THIS city was formerly the capital of Normandy, and is now the first city of the department of the Lower Seine. It has six suburbs, and is said to be seven miles in circumference. The houses are chiefly built of wood, and the streets are narrow and crooked. It is at present famous for its manufactories of cotton, &c. and is to France, almost what Manchester is to England. It contains about 80,000 inhabitants, and is delightfully situated on the northern bank of the river Seine, over which there is a bridge of boats, that rises and falls with the tide. This bridge being esteemed a curiosity, of course we went to see it; but it by no means equalled our expectation as to its appearance. Its utility, however, must be obvious, as the tide rises so high, and runs with such rapidity, that no other bridge has ever been able to resist its force.

Pursuing our ramble through the city on Saturday, and suddenly emerging from one of its dark and narrow streets, we burst in a moment upon the sublime and stupendous front of the cathedral. The effect produced by the instantaneous and unexpected developement of so much magnificence, may be more

easily conceived than described. We were riveted for some minutes in silent admiration to the spot. The front of the cathedral is equal, if not superior, to any thing I ever saw, not excepting even York Minster. The workmanship of it is most exquisite. One can scarcely imagine it possible that stone can be wrought so highly, rivalling, as it does, the delicacy of paper and the fineness of lace.

It has two towers-that to the north is most ancient, and is Saxon in its architecture. The whole of the front, with this exception, is Gothic, and perhaps one of the purest and richest specimens of this style of architecture in Europe. The spire is remarkably lofty. It is built of wood covered with lead. It was burnt down about fifty years ago, and is now eighty feet lower than it was previous to that conflagration. Its great defect is, that it does not harmonize with the rest of the edifice, it being Grecian. We were informed that it is 420 feet in height-but the correctness of this information I am inclined to doubt: for that would make it higher than St. Paul's in London. It is certainly, however, a very lofty and elegant spire.

The church of St. Ouen is also a most magnificent edifice. In some respects it is superior to the cathedral; for though its front is less highly wrought, and not perhaps so vast in its dimensions-yet it has greater uniformity, and the building, as a whole, is more solemn and majestic. The first view of the interior, on entering the great western door, is extremely grand and imposing. There is nothing to interrupt the sight-but clusters of gothic pillars,

towering to an amazing elevation, stretch, in prolonged perspective, on either side to the eastern window, which is the richest exhibition of painted glass I have yet beheld. There is an air of gloomy grandeur about this building that strikes one with awe; and combined with the pomp and splendour of Catholic worship-the voices of the chanters— the pealing of the organ-the chorus of hundreds and thousands suddenly rising till every arch and every pillar rings with the sound-and then sinking into the softest and tenderest notes again, captivates the senses and absorbs the soul.

Yesterday morning we repaired first to the Cathedral. High Mass was performing when we entered. The church, spacious as it is, was crowded in every part-the body of it was entirely filled with the military. The attire of the priests was most splendid. Those of a superior order wore a magnificent mantle, richly embroidered with flowers of various colours on a ground of gold. We were present at the elevation of the host, when all in the cathedral fell upon their knees, and, the censers being thrown aloft, the richest odours were diffused throughout the edifice. We remarked that none of the military were uncovered during this most solemn ceremony of their religion. We were told they would not. While these rites were performing in the chancel of the church, a venerable old man, in the attire of a priest, came through the crowd with a basket full of bread broken into small pieces, which he distributed amongst the people. This is the bread of charity.

Loaves are presented by individuals to the priest, who breaks them and blesses them, and then they are thus dispersed to all who choose to take. I observed one soldier who took a piece-smelt at it, and then turned up his nose most contemptuously before he ate it.

From the Cathedral we went to the Protestant Church, and heard a good sermon, as far as it went. The church is large, and has been magnificent; but it is sadly neglected and gone to decay. The congregation was small, but serious and attentive, and the whole service was conducted with great decorum and solemnity. A clerk read from a sort of desk, at the opening of the service, select portions of the scriptures, including the ten commandmentsand also the apostles creed. They sung the psalms of David. The Minister used a form of prayer in part, and in part prayed extempore. There seemed to be much elegance in the composition of the sermon—and it was gracefully delivered. I regret that this is the highest eulogium it merited.

In the afternoon we saw the procession of the Fête Dieu. The host was borne under a magnificent canopy through the streets, which, in honour of the procession, were strewed with flowers; while the fronts of the houses were hung with carpets, tapestry, and linen. Every body was out of doorsand as they proceeded to elevate the sacred wafer at the various altars which pious individuals had raised before their houses in those streets through which it was to pass, the people with one accord fell upon