hay-oft, and to the best of my memory never slept more delightfully.
When I opened my razor case on the following morning, I found a paper,
upon unrolling of which I found a ringlet of hair, with the word Felice
on the envelope. Once for all, the French women can think of nothing but
gallantry, and live for nothing but love. Sweet girl, I will keep thy
ringlet, and when weary of the world, will remember thee, and
acknowledge that life may still have a charm.

We remained at Planchoury till the noon of the following day, when we
resumed our journey, with the intention of dining at Tours. From
Planchoury throughout the whole way to Tours, the scenery exceeded all
the powers of description. The Loire rolled its lovely stream through
groves, meads, and flowers. On both sides was a border of meadow clad in
the richest green, varied sometimes by hills which hung over the river,
the sides of these hills robed in all the rich livery of the ripening
grape, and the towers and battlements of castles just surmounting the
woods in which they were embosomed. How delightful must it be to wander
in a summer's evening along these lovely banks, far from the din of the
distant world, and where the deep tranquillity is only interrupted by
the song of the nightingale, the whistle of the swain returning from
labour, or the carol of the milkmaid as she is filling her pail. Surely
man was formed most peculiarly to relish the charms of Nature. Would
Heaven grant me my fondest wish, it would be to wander with * * * * on
the banks of the Loire. How sweetly, and even justly, did Felice
express the true image of love, when she wished me the golden
dream,--that I was wandering with my love in the corn-fields of Saumur.

We passed through Langeais, a small town, celebrated for its melons,
with which it supplies Paris, and all France. This town was known to the
Romans, by whom it was called Alingavia. We stopped to examine its
castle, which is celebrated in the history of France, as the scene of
the marriage of Charles the Eighth and Anne of Bretagne. The castle, as
may be expected, is now in ruins; but enough remains of it, to prove its
former magnificence. It frowns with much sublimity over the subject
land. I never remember to have passed through a more lovely country,
more varied scenery, abounding in vines, corn, meadow, wood, and water,
than the whole of the road between Saumur and Tours. Well might Queen
Mary of Scotland exclaim, when leaving t