in
comparison with those of England. Along the banks of the Loire,
moreover, France has woodlands, and lawns, and an, intermixture of wood
and water, and of every possible variety of surface, which no country in
the world but France can produce. The Loire is perhaps the only river in
Europe which is bordered by hills and hillocks, and which, in so long a
course, so seldom passes through a mere dead level. Accordingly, from
the earliest times of the French monarchy, the rising grounds of the
Loire have been selected for the sites of castles, monasteries, abbeys,
and chateaux, and as the possessors have superadded Art to Nature, this
natural beauty of the grounds has been improving from age to age. The
Monks have been immemorially celebrated for their skill as well in the
choice of situations as in their improvement of natural advantages;
their leisure, and their taste, improved by learning, have naturally
been employed on the scenes of their residence, on their vineyards and
their gardens. Innumerable are the still remaining vestiges of their
taste and of their industry, and I have a most sincere satisfaction in
thus doing them justice; in thus bearing my testimony, that, so far from
being the drones of the land, there is no part of a province which they
possessed, but what they have improved. The scenery along the Loire has
a character which I should think could not be found in any other
kingdom, and on any other river. Towns, windmills, steeples, ancient
castles and abbeys still entire, and others with nothing remaining but
their lofty walls; hills covered with vines, and alternate woods and
corn-fields--altogether form a landscape, or rather a chain of
landscapes, which remind one of a poem, and successively refresh,
delight, animate, and exalt the imagination. Is there any one oppressed
with grief for the loss of friends, or what is still more poignantly
felt, for their ingratitude and unkindness? Let him traverse the banks
of the Loire; let him appeal from man to Nature, from a world of passion
and vice, to scenes of groves, meads, and flowers. His must be no common
sorrow who would not forget it on the banks of the Loire.

After a short rest at Chantoce, a village of the same rank and
character with Mauves, we arrived at Angers, where we proposed to remain
till the following Monday, having arrived there on the Thursday evening.
We had scarcely reached the inn, before a gentleman of the name of Mons.
de Corseul