ns very carefully cultivated, and so much
in the style of England, that, but for some characteristic frivolities,
I could scarcely believe myself in France. In every garden, or orchard,
I invariably observed one tree distinguished above the rest; it had
usually a seat around its trunk, and where its top was large enough, a
railed seat, or what is called in America a look-out, amongst its
branches. I had the curiosity to ascend to some of these, for the garden
gates were invariably only latched, and small pieces of wood were nailed
to the trunk, so as to assist the ascent of the women. The branches,
which formed the look-out, were carved with the names of the village
beauties, and in one of the seats I found a French novel, and a very
pretty paper work-box. I saw enough to conclude, that Ancennis was not
without the characteristic French elegance; and I must once for all say,
that the manners of Marmontel are founded in nature, and that the
daughters of the yeomanry and humbler farmers in France have an
elegance, a vivacity, and a pleasantry, which is no where to be found
out of France.

On my return I found Mademoiselle Sillery at the breakfast table; and in
answer to her inquiries as to the object of my walk, informed her of my
observations. She replied, that they were very well founded, and added a
reason for it which seemed to me very satisfactory. "The French girls,"
said she, "all at least who learn to read, are formed to this elegance
and softness by the very elements of their education; their class-book
is Marmontel, and La Belle Assemblee, the last, one of the prettiest
novels in France. They are thus taught love with their letters, and they
improve in gallantry as they improve in reading; and I will venture to
say," continued this elegant girl, "that by this method of instruction
we make a great earned where there is a love-story at the end of it."

We shortly afterwards resumed our progress, and passed through a country
of the same kind as on the preceding day, alternate hill and valley. The
Arno, as described by the Tuscan poets, for I have never seen it, must
bear a strong resemblance to the Loire from Ancennis to Angers; nothing
can be more beautiful than the natural distribution of lawn, wood, hill
and valley, whilst the river, which borders this scenery, is ever giving
it a new form by its serpentine shape. The favourite images in the
landscapes of the ancient painters here meet the eye almost every
leag