by grands seigneurs, handsome equipages rolled through the streets, and its society prided itself on its exclusiveness and grand manner.  It used to be said that to rouler carrosse at Valognes was a titre de noblesse, and the inhabitants considered their town a “petit Paris.”  In one of the plays of the time, a marquis, very fashionable and a well-known courtier, was made to say:  “Il faut trois mois de Valognes pour achever un homme de cour.”  One can quite imagine “la grande vie d’autrefois” in the hotel of the Florians.  Their garden is enchanting—­quantities of flowers, roses particularly.  They have made two great borders of tall pink rose-bushes, with dwarf palms from Bordighera planted between, just giving the note of stiffness which one would expect to find in an old-fashioned garden.  On one side is a large terrace with marble steps and balustrade, and beyond that, half hidden by a row of fruit-trees, a very good tennis court.  We just see the church-tower at one end of the garden; and it is so quiet one would never dream there was a town near.  The country in every direction is beautiful—­real English lanes, the roads low, high banks on each side, with hawthorn bushes on top—­one drives between thick green walls.  We have made some lovely excursions.  They have a big omnibus with a banquette on top which seats four people, also a place by the coachman, and two great Norman posters, who go along at a good steady trot, taking a little gallop occasionally up and down the hills.

  [14] Mareuil is the name of the village near our place in France.

Countess de Nadaillac, Countess Florian’s sister-in-law, arrived to-day with her daughter for a short visit.  We had a pleasant evening with music, billiards, and dominoes (a favorite game in this country).  The dowager countess always plays two games, and precisely at half-past nine her old man-servant appears and escorts her to her rooms.  We all break up early; the ten o’clock bell is usually the signal.  It rings every night, just as it has done for hundreds of years.  The town lights are put out and the inhabitants understand that the authorities are not responsible for anything that may happen in the streets of Valognes after such a dangerous hour of the night.

...  There are some fine places in the neighborhood.  We went to-day to Chiffevast, a large chateau which had belonged to the Darus, but has been bought recently by a rich couple, Valognes people, who have made a large fortune in cheese and butter.  It seems their great market is London.

They send over quantities via Cherbourg, which is only twenty minutes off by rail.  It is a splendid place—­with a fine approach by a great avenue with beautiful old trees.  The chateau is a large, square house—­looks imposing as one drives up.  We didn’t see the master of the house—­he was away—­but madame received us in all her best clothes.  She was much better dressed than we were, evidently by one of the good Paris houses.