[Illustration: "Le vrai dernier!"] How pleased Mlle. AUBOURG, the waitress, appeared to be when we returned! All the family prepared to kill the fatted calf figuratively, as it took the shape of the sweetest and freshest shrimps as _hors d'oeuvre_, and then it became an omelette _au lard_ ("O La!") absolutely unsurpassable, and a _poulet sauté_, which was about the best that ever we tasted. A good bottle of the ordinary generous, fruit, and then a cup of recently roasted and freshly ground coffee with a thimbleful of some special Normandy cognac,--in which our cheery host joined us, and we all drank one another's healths,--completed as good a _déjeuner_ as any man or woman of simple tastes could possibly desire. [Illustration: M. Aubourg fils comes out for a blow. The Son and Air.] Then the cheery son of the house, dressed in a cook's cap and apron, pauses in his work to join in our conversation. He tells us how he has been in London, and can speak English, and is enthusiastic about the satiric journal which _Mr. Punch_ publishes weekly. M. AUBOURG _fils_ who is a truthful likeness, on a large scale, of M. DAUBRAY, of the Palais Royal, informs me that he can play the horn after the manner of the guards on the coaches starting from the "White Horse," Piccadilly; and so, when we start for Etretat, he produces a big _cor de chasse_, and, while he sounds the farewell upon it, a maid rushes out and rings the parting bell, and M. AUBOURG _pére_ waves his cap, and Madame her hand, and Mlle. her _serviette_, and we respond with hat and handkerchief until we turn the corner, and hear the last flourish of the French "horn of the hunter," and see the last flourish of pretty Mademoiselle's snow-white _serviette_. Then we go on our way to Etretat, rejoicing. But, after this excitement, Etretat palls upon us. After a couple of hours of Etretat, we are glad to drive up, and up, and up, and get far away and above Etretat, where we can breathe again. Far better is Fecamp which we tried two days after, and Fecamp is just a trifle livelier than Westward Ho! Of course its Abbaye is an attraction in itself. It is a place whose inhabitants show considerable public spirit, as it is here that "Benedictine" is made. When at Le Havre drive over to St. Jouin, and breakfast _chez Ernestine_. Another day you can spend at Rouen, returning in the evening to dinner. This is not intended as a chapter in a guidebook, but simply as a hint at any time to those who need a thorough change in a short time, and who do not care to go too far off to get it. When they've quite finished building and paving Havre, I'll return there and take a few walks. Now the authorities responsible for the paving are simply the best friends of the boot-making interest, just as in London the Hansoms collectively ought to receive a handsome Christmas hat-box from the hatters. But mind this, when at Havre drive to Gonneville, and breakfast _chez_ M. AUBOURG. * * * * *