One, two
(decrepit old men); three, four, five (nurses and children); six, seven,
eight (Chasseurs de Vincennes or a 'noble Zouave),' and so on, until the
Rosary is complete and there are no more seats.[50] Every day under our
windows they come and wedge themselves close together on the long stone
seats under the dusty trees, to rest; and thread themselves in rows one
by one, as if some unseen hand were telling, with human beads, the
mystery of the Rosary.
Why do we speak of what is done every day in every city of France?
Because it is worth a moment's notice, that in the day-time of busy
cities men can, if they choose, find time to rest. There are gardens
open, and seats provided in the middle of the cities, so that the poor
children need not play on dustheaps and under carriage-wheels. There is
a small open square in the heart of Rouen, laid out with rocks and
trees, and a waterfall, which we should dearly like to shew to certain
'parish guardians.'
The modern business-like aspect of Rouen communicates itself even to
religious matters, and before we have been here long, we think nothing
of seeing piles of crucifixes, and 'Virgins and children', put out in
the street in boxes for sale, at a 'fabrique d'ornaments de l'eglise.'
We, the people of Rouen, do a great business in _chasublerie_, and the
like; we drive hard bargains for images of the Saviour in zinc and iron
(they are catalogued for us, and placed in rows in the shop windows); we
purchase _lachryma Christi_ by the dozen; and, for a few sous, may
become possessed of the whole paraphernalia of the Holy Manger.
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