About eleven o'clock
On the left , down yonder , lies Rouen , populous Rouen with its blue roofs massing under pointed , Gothic towers . Innumerable are they , delicate or broad , dominated by the spire of the cathedral , full of bells which sound through the blue air on fine mornings , sending their sweet and distant iron clang to me , their metallic sounds , now stronger and now weaker , according as the wind is strong or light . What a delicious morning it was ! About eleven o'clock , a long line of boats drawn by a steam-tug , as big a fly , and which scarcely puffed while emitting its thick smoke , passed my gate . After two English schooners , whose red flags fluttered toward the sky , there came a magnificent Brazilian three-master ; it was perfectly white and wonderfully clean and shining . I saluted it , I hardly know why , except that the sight of the vessel gave me great pleasure . May 12 .