New Britain herald., 1930-12-11
GH0STLIKE RUINS
 LINE SEINE BANKS
French "Water Highway" Un-
 ending Pageant of Beauty

The Seine, Paris water highway to the sea, has been flooded until in places 1t has overf1owed it's banks. according to recent news dispatches. A bulletin from the Washington, D. c. headquarters of the National Geographic Society describes some of the beauty spots to be seen along the river when it flows more gently.
 Most Americans journeying to Paris become acquainted with the lovely views along Frances most famous river very soon after they set foot on French soil" says the bulletin. Those who land at le Havre ride in a boat train that parallels the Seine for almost the entire trip to Paris; while those ar irving at Cherbourg and travelling by rail to the capital are in sight of the river for the last 50 miles of their journey. Less usual is the trip up the river by boat which gives an entirely different viewpoint for the Seine's beauties.
 InOStly RulnS OH E3dnkS
 The glorious river that leads from le Havre to Rouen and on to Paris is a stream of delights, wind ing tortuously among little towns, farms. the ghostly ruins of former grandeur like Jumieges. and between chalky cliffs now and again, that rise hundreds of feet above the river, or, low and beetling, shelter astonishing cave communities, whose homes are bored right into the solid rock
 Splendid wooded peninsulas jut out into the stream, that Widens be- low Rouen into as majestic a flood as the Hudson; and then the ancient pirate stronghold itself comes into view, shrouded with the smoke of its factories and busy with the ac- tivities which have taken the place of the industries of a thousand years ago.
 How can one describe this city Of the pirates; how give a picture of the long quays beside the river, shining in the brilliant sunshine: the broad thoroughfares powed right through the old town and lined with dull modern houses: the occasional bits of the middle ages that still finger here and there in some old street whose houses peep and nut ter at one another across the way? Such is the dark, crooked, villain ously paved Rue de St. Romain, be- side the cathedral.
 Where Joan of Arc Lost
 'The deepest interest of the traveller in Rouen lies in the lonely tower of the city's former defenses, where Joan of Arc was tried for her life-and lost. The great. cone topped cylinder is rugged and stall wart, a perfect trestored) picture of q defensive tower of medieval times. with its wooden hoardings and machicolations. Nearby slabs, in the pavement and upon the wall of the Old Market, mark the spot where the heroic maid paid for her pa triotism by passing through the fire. And upon the hill of Bon Secours, beyond the city, a huge me morial to her crowns the height and looks down upon the silver bosomed Seine.
 Above Rouen, the river sweeps away in great arcs to right and left past rich bottom lands, checkered with cool, tender greens and warm russet browns. A whole archipelago of lovely little islands, seven of them, f1ecks the furnished mirror of the stream. Bushily their raise their green heads of balsamy pines and lacy poplars against the sky in deli cate silhouettes. and the long tows of river barges glide slowly past them like so many swollen sea-ser- pents.
 But perhaps the loveliest spot in all the winding miles of beauty along the river between Rouen and Paris is Petit Andely. Ragged and shat tered-looking. 7thc stony hill rears proudly up above placid river and sleepy town, and squarely upon it's crest looms the ruins of Richard the Lion Hearts Castle Gallant-a great. burst keep and a few bits of mas sive wall. Once the castle Haunted its menacing leopard standards against the blue and white and gold Of the Franlish skies: but that was before Philippe -Auglistc stormed |, and smashed it. and smashed the townsfolk while he was doing it.
 Nov, ghostly and wan, the stark | rum shimmers upon it's hill. with | never a single spear to glint from keep or barbican. The spears are | still far from glowing-the stout | young poplars on river bank and | island sentineling through golden days when the river is gleaming Jade: in the fiery sunsets, when it | mirrors back every sturdy limb and