252 THE SPORTSMAN IN FRANCE. 



Towards the latter end of the year 

 1815, I ran down to Caen from Paris, in 

 compliance with an invitation from some 

 old and valued friends of my family, who 

 had taken up their abode in this ancient 

 Norman town. 



I look back, even at this distant period, 

 with no little pleasure, to the happy days 

 I passed within its walls. Even a quar- 

 ter of a century has not v/eakened the 

 ties of friendship, the foundation of which 

 was laid there, and time can never oblite- 

 rate from my mind the unalloyed happi- 

 ness I enjoyed in the society I had the 

 good fortune to be introduced to. 



There are certain epochs in our lives 

 that remain indelibly stamped on the 

 memory, which years can never efface. 

 My visit to Caen is one of these stereo- 

 typed impressions — Shall I say for why ? 



Here it Vv^as that I formed an acquaint- 

 ance which ripened into intimacy, and 

 grew to friendship ; and so long as the 



