98 A Corner of Brittany. 
The eastern side of the peninsula is still more picturesque than the 
western. It forms a part of the magnificent bay of Morlaix and its 
cliffs rise abruptly out of the sea. Here the fortress of Taureau, 
a wonder of Brittany, projects out of the ocean from a submarine 
reef. 
There is but one road leading to Roscoff from the mainland, 
and that bisects the peninsula entering the main street near the 
church. It is the national road to the neighboring city called 
Saint Pol. On either side there branch off true Breton lanes lined 
by lofty embankments thrown up by the farmers. No trees, noth- 
ing but sandy fields of onions and potatoes line its borders. Every- 
where the, land swept by the high winds of the Atlantic, has a som- 
ber, melancholy look. The hills are low, and here and there rocks 
project through the thin covering of sand, but otherwise the land- 
scape is little varied. 
The sea, however, at Roscoff makes up the interest where the 
land fails to attract. Nowhere have I seen such a variety in the 
sky and horizon, nowhere a more savage coast resisting a more de- 
There are many neighboring islands, the largest of which is called 
the He de Batz, a strange name, taken from a tongue reaching back 
before the origin of the modern French tongue. Nearby this Island 
there are the so-called Bourguinous, and still further away Tisosou, 
"the house of the English." Some miles more distant seaward the 
rock of Pighet, all of which islands are remnants of a former battle- 
ment which, resisting the inroads of the sea, are fast loosing their 
form and size in protecting the mainland. Sown here and there are 
submerged rocks most fatal to navigation around which course "cail- 
loux" or currents which render the approaches to the port so dreaded 
by sailors. As one glances across the channel from the island, Ros- 
coff seems a very large city. Its sea-wall, its row of houses along 
the shore and the elegant church would lead one to exaggerate the 
size, but the town is simply a crescent of houses, enclosing fertile 
fields of potatoes and onions. 
Such is a brief sketch of the place to which we are hastening 
through Brittany by way of the railroad from Paris to Brest. ^^ 
alighted at Morlaix, a picturesque old town, which has contributed 
many a sketch to the artist's portfolio, early in the evening, and take 
a branch road to Koscoff. Somewhat later the train halts and we 
have reached our destination. 
