the summit, and there are very few of these
wood-tufted hills, which have not their castle or ruined tower. In some
of these ancient buildings, there was scarcely any thing remaining but
the two towers which guarded the grand portal; but others, being more
durably constructed, were still habitable, though still retaining their
ancient forms. I have frequently had occasion to observe, that the
French gentry, in making their repairs, invariably follow the style of
the building; whether through natural taste, or because they repair by
piece-meal, and therefore do only what is wanted, I know not. But there
is one necessary consequence from this practice, which is, that the
remains of antiquity are more perfect in France than in any other
kingdom in Europe. From Mauves to Oudon, where we dined, the country is
still very thickly wooded and inclosed; the properties evidently very
small, and therefore innumerable cottages and small gardens. These
cottages usually consist of only one floor, divided into two rooms, and
a shed behind. They were generally situated in orchards, and fronted the
Loire. They had invariably one or two large trees, which are decorated
with ribbons at sunset, as the signal for the dance, which is invariably
observed in this part of France. Some of the peasant girls, which came
out to us with fruit, were very handsome, though brown. The children,
which were in great numbers, looked healthy, but were very scantily
clad. None of them had more than a shift and a petticoat, and some of
them girls of ten or twelve years of age, only a shift, tied round the
waist by a coloured girdle. As seen at some distance, they reminded me
very forcibly of the figures in landscape pictures.

We remained at Oudon till near sunset, when we resumed our road to
Ancennis, where we intended to sleep. As this was only a distance of
seven miles, we took it very leisurely, sometimes riding, and sometimes
walking. The evening was as beautiful as is usual in the southern parts
of Europe at this season of the year. The road was most romantically
recluse, and so serpentine as never to be visible beyond an hundred
yards. The nightingales were singing in the adjoining woods. The road,
moreover, was bordered on each side by lofty hedges, intermingled with
fruit-trees, and even vines in full bearing. At every half mile, a cross
road, branching from the main one, led into the recesses of the country,
or to some castle or villa on the high grou