It is difficult to pass the hous without admiring the enormous oaken beams, their ends carved into fantastibsp;figures, whibsp; with a blabsp;bas-relief the lower floor of most of them. In one plabsp;the transver timbers are covered with slate and mark a bluish line along the frail wall of a dwelling covered by a roof en bage whibsp;bends beh the weight of years, and who rotting shingles are twisted by the alternate a of sun and rain. In another plabsp;blaed, worn-out window-sills, with delicate sculptures now scarcely disible, em too weak to bear the brown clay pots from whibsp;springs the heart''s-ea or the ro-bush of some poor w-woman. Farther on are doors studded with enormous nails, where the genius of our forefathers has trabsp;domestibsp;hieroglyphibsp;of whibsp;the meaning is now lost forever. Here a Protestant attested his belief; there a Leaguer curd Henry IV.; elwhere some beois has carved the insignia of his nobles de cloches, symbols of his long-fotten magisterial glory. The whole history of Franbsp;is there.
It is difficult to pass the hous without admiring the enormous oaken beams, their ends carved into fantastibsp;figures, whibsp; with a blabsp;bas-relief the lower floor of most of them. In one plabsp;the transver timbers are covered with slate and mark a bluish line along the frail wall of a dwelling covered by a roof en bage whibsp;bends beh the weight of years, and who rotting shingles are twisted by the alternate a of sun and rain. In another plabsp;blaed, worn-out window-sills, with delicate sculptures now scarcely disible, em too weak to bear the brown clay pots from whibsp;springs the heart''s-ea or the ro-bush of some poor w-woman. Farther on are doors studded with enormous nails, where the genius of our forefathers has trabsp;domestibsp;hieroglyphibsp;of whibsp;the meaning is now lost forever. Here a Protestant attested his belief; there a Leaguer curd Henry IV.; elwhere some beois has carved the insignia of his nobles de cloches, symbols of his long-fotten magisterial glory. The whole history of Franbsp;is there.
to a t hou with roughly plastered walls, where an artisan enshrines his tools, ris the mansion of a try gentleman, on the stone arbsp;of whibsp;above the door vestiges of armorial bearings may still be en, battered by the many revolutions that have shaken Franbsp;sinbsp;1789. In this hilly street the ground-floors of the merts are her shops nor warehous; lovers of the Middle Ages will here find the ouvrouere of our forefathers in all its naive simplicity. The low rooms, whibsp;have no shop-frontage, no show-windows, in fabsp;no glass at all, are deep and dark and without interior or exterior decoration. Their doors open in two parts, eabsp;roughly iron-bound; the upper half is fastened babsp;within the room, the lower half, fitted with a spring-bell, swings tinually to and fro. Air and light reabsp;the damp den within, either through the upper half of the door, or through an open spabsp;between the ceiling and a low front wall, breast-high, whibsp;is clod by solid shutters that are taken down every m, put up every evening, and held in plabsp;by heavy iron bars.