We returned to Conquet by way of the cliff. The breakers were dashing
against its foot. Driven by a sea-breeze, they would come rushing in,
strike the rocks and cover them with rippling sheets of water. Half an
hour later, in a _char-a-banc_ drawn by two sturdy little horses, we
reached Brest, which we left with pleasure two days afterwards. When you
leave the coast and approach the Channel, the country undergoes a marked
change; it becomes less wild, less Celtic; the dolmens become scarcer,
the flats diminish as the wheat fields grow more numerous, and, little
by little, one reaches the fertile land of Leon, which is, as M.
Pitre-Chevalier has gracefully put it, "the Attica of Brittany."
Landerneau is a place where there is an elm-tree promenade, and where we
saw a frightened dog running through the streets with a pan attached to
its tail.
In order to go to the Chateau de la Joyeuse-Garde, one must first follow
the banks of the Eilorn and then walk through a forest, in a hollow
where few persons go. Sometimes, when the underwood thins out and
meadows appear between the branches, one catches sight of a boat sailing
up the river.
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