Poitiers abounds in antiquities of one kind or another; and there is a great variety and originality in its old buildings. Old stone doorways and steep conical roofs are to be seen, specially in Pilory Square. Hemming them in were purple-tinted trees, which made a fringe of delicate embroidery against the cold slate of the houses. Under one of the houses in Rue Cloche Perse were magnificent cellars, or caves, with massive round arches, and the ceiling of rough masonry blackened with age. The men who showed me the place declared the "_caillouc_" was known to be Roman work, and the door above to be thirteenth century, or earlier. Some of the old houses are tiled all down their frontage, and the effect on the eye is a soft violet of diagonal pattern. Some are square, some pointed. The house to which St. Jeanne d'Arc came in 1428 is one of the latter. Over the door is the inscription: "Ne hope, ne fear, Safe in mid-stream;" and these words placed there by _La Société des Antiquaires de l'Ouest, Mars, 1892_. _Ici était l'hôtellerie de la Rose, Jeanne d'Arc y logea en Mars, 1429 (sic) Elle en partit, pour alier délivrer Orléans Assiégé par les Anglais._ It is evident that formerly there was some crest affixed to the frontage. Inside the old black fireplace in one of the front rooms had been a statue in days gone by. The house of Diane de Poitiers is roofed in greyish lilac slates, alternating with red tiles. One cannot come to Poitiers without being insistently aware of the _charbonnier_--the minstrel of the street. The shrill characteristic "Root-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-toot-TOO--!" of his little brass trumpet every three minutes during most parts of the day, sometimes _crescendo_, sometimes _diminuendo_ according to its distance are special features of the streets of Poitiers. He is accompanied by his little covered cart, with its flapping green curtains, in which sit Madame, and his stock of charcoal. Most of the street cries here are in the minor key--are in fact exactly like the first part of a Gregorian chant, and sound very melodiously on one's ear when heard at a little distance. I met a woman pushing a barrow once, containing a little of everything: fish, endive, apples, sweets, and little odds and ends, so to speak, waifs and strays of food. She was singing to a little melody of her own, "_Des pe ... tites choses! des pe ... tites choses!_" Round about Poitiers are many charming old _châteaux_, each one so distinctly French in character and individuality, that they could, by no possibility, have their nationality mistaken. At Neuville-de-Poitou are some curious old monumental stones: "_Dolmen de la Pierre-Levée_." Illustration: CASTLE AVANTON, VIENNE. [_Page 112._