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a triple Roman fortification. Séné and the isle of Conleau, and many other curiosities, should be visited; they are at distances not too far for good walkers.

The sailors of the peninsula of Séné are called Sinagots, and use a very useful kind of boat pointed at each end. In Séné, as in other villages on the Morbihan, the men are fishers and the women cultivate the soil.

At Limur, in this peninsula, is a little chapel dedicated to St. Ufévrier. In the chapel is a statue of the saint, one foot of which is pierced through and through with pins. St. Ufévrier is supposed to be a husband-finding saint, and the young girl who can succeed in sticking a pin firmly in his foot will have a husband before the end of the year. She, on the contrary, whose pin falls out will have to wait some time for a lover, and it may be will not get one.

MORBIHAN.

THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES.

CHAPTER V.

Elven-Trédion.

E had heard so much of the Château de Largouët and

WE

its Tour d'Elven that we wanted a long day there. So we started early, having arranged overnight to have our breakfast packed to take with us, which was done very nicely by our landlady. The first part of the road was bordered by chestnut-trees, and then the country opened widely on each side, showing stretches of blue distance. Not long afterwards we came in view of the tower of Elven, which is a landmark for some time before it is reached. After driving rather more than two hours from Vannes a road appeared on the left, cut across a desolate common overgrown with furze, at the farther side of which was the tower.

Our driver said that visitors usually went on foot from this point, as the road was very bad; but, although it was still early, the heat had become intense, and there was no shade to be seen on the long track across the common, so we did not feel inclined to walk. The road was

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certainly very bad. Our little carriage pitched up and down alarmingly; and when we reached the thick wood which surrounds the tower, and hides it on nearer ap; proach, we all preferred to walk, for the road had become a series of ruts almost a foot in depth, and so rough that it was not easy even to walk on their edges. Our guide said the incessant rains of the last few weeks had made the approach much worse than usual. At length we reached the end of the picturesque maze which seemed to circle round the fortress, and came out in sudden view of the ruins.

Then we saw that a much older large round tower had been hidden by the massive donjon, and that we were surrounded by the ruins of the old castle. another square tower, overgrown with ivy. very striking.

Beyond was The effect was

Monsieur Octave Feuillet, who has laid the scene of the most dramatic portion of his book, "Le Roman d'un jeune Homme pauvre," in the Tour d'Elven, gives a most faithful and admirable description of the ruins in the sentences beginning, "Rien de plus imposant, de plus fier et de plus sombre que ce vieux donjon," &c.

The donjon is in excellent preservation, and is almost perfect; and this tall octangular tower with its crenelated. top, and a smaller tower rising from the platform within the battlements, has a most marvellous effect, surrounded on all sides by its deep wooded moat, while all about are the ruins and the surrounding trees. The tall dark frowning Tour d'Elven looks doubly grim seen through the tender green of ash and beech. Just facing its low-browed portal a narrow drawbridge crosses the moat.

There is a small farmhouse close by inhabited by the

concierge. He was going out, but he said his sister could show us the tower just as well as he could.

We were too hungry to explore it at once; so we strolled down among the trees beyond the ruins, seeking a pleasant spot to breakfast in. We soon found a charming green

slope crowned by high trees, which made a screen from the blaze of the sunshine; in front was the open country stretching away for some distance; and here we unpacked. the two baskets provided by our landlady. The fare was excellent, but alas! although she had packed scrviettes for

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each person and a table-cloth, she had left out plates and knives and forks; and, although some of the breakfast consisted of what Monsieur Fouquet calls "provisions de bouche," we found it extremely difficult to carve chicken with a penknife. However, we managed to enjoy our breakfast thoroughly, and that sunny morning on the grass outside the old castle of Largouët will always be a bright memory of Brittany.

The concierge passed us on his way. He stopped to tell us that he was a martyr to neuralgia, and he wanted to know if we could tell him of a cure.

The sun had risen above our screen of trees, and shone down on us so fiercely that we were glad to go back among the ruins. Our driver, who had turned his horse loose into one of the fields, went and summoned a guide, while we stood gazing up at the lofty imperious-looking tower. It may arise partly from its position, girt as it is on all sides with trees, and yet rising loftily above all; it may be from its dark, frowning appearance; but we thought this tower of Elven, for its size, the most imposing-looking ruin we saw in Brittany.*

The castle was built in 1356 by Odon de Malestroit, who is said to have used for its model a strong fortress which he took in Palestine, when he accompanied St. Louis to the Crusades. This castle of Largouët passed with the rest of the Malestroit property to the Rieux family by marriage during the civil wars which preceded the marriage of Duchess Anne with Charles. Then it was taken and dismantled. It was not till the end of the fifteenth

* M. Fouquet says that in the moat and among the ruins may be found a rare snail-shell (H. Quimperiana).

H