t the little prince with his bright
eyes and proud bearing, that the end of his life would be so
melancholy--exile and death in a foreign land.

There are all sorts of interesting pictures and engravings scattered
about the house in the numberless corridors and anterooms. One most
interesting and very rare print represents a review at Potsdam held by
Frederick the Great. Two conspicuous figures are the young Marquis de
Lafayette in powdered wig and black silk ribbon, and the English
General Lord Cornwallis, destined to meet as adversaries many years
later during the American Revolution. There are many family pictures
on the great stone staircase, both French and English, the Marquis de
Lasteyrie, on the maternal side, being a great-grandson of the Duke of
Leinster. Some of the English portraits are very charming, quite
different from the French pictures.

In the centre panel is the well-known portrait of Lafayette by Ary
Scheffer--not in uniform--no trace of the dashing young soldier; a
middle-aged man in a long fur coat, hat and stick in his hand;
looking, as one can imagine he did when he settled down, after his
brilliant and eventful career, to the simple patriarchal life at La
Grange, surrounded by devoted children, grandchildren, and friends.

We were interrupted long before I had seen all the interesting part of
the house and its contents, as it was time to start for La Houssaye,
where all the party were expected at tea. We went off in three
carriages--quite like a "noce," as the Marquise remarked. The drive
(about an hour) was not particularly interesting. We were in the heart
of the great agricultural district and drove through kilometres of
planted fields--no hills and few woods.

We came rather suddenly on the chateau, which stands low, like all
chateaux surrounded by moats, turning directly from the little village
into the park, which is beautifully laid out with fine old trees. We
had glimpses of a lovely garden as we drove up to the house, and of
two old towers--one round and one square. The chateau stands well--a
very broad moat, almost a river, running straight around the house and
gardens. We crossed the drawbridge, which always gives me a sensation
of old feudal times and recalls the days of my childhood when I used
to sit under the sickle-pear tree at "Cherry Lawn" reading Scott's
"Marmion"--"Up drawbridge, grooms--what, Warder, ho! Let the
portcullis fall!" wondering what a "portcullis" was, and i