drawbridge with massive doors, studded with iron nails and strong iron
bolts and chains which defend the entrance, making one think of old
feudal days, when might was right, and if a man wanted his neighbours
property, he simply took it. Even some of the smaller chateaux have
moats. I think they are more picturesque than comfortable--an
ivy-covered house with a moat around it is a nest for mosquitoes and
insects of all kinds, and I fancy the damp from the water must finish by
pervading the house. French people of all classes love the country and a
garden with bright flowers, and if the poorer ones can combine a rabbit
hutch with the flowers they are quite happy.

I have heard W. speak sometimes of a fine old chateau in our
department--(Aisne) belonging to a deputy, who invited his friends to
shoot and breakfast. The cuisine and shooting were excellent, but the
accommodations fantastic. The neighbours said nothing had been renewed
or cleaned since the chateau was occupied by the Cossacks under the
first Napoleon.

We got very little country life during those years at the Foreign
Office. Twice a year, in April and August, W. went to Laon for his
Conseil-General, over which he presided, but he was rarely able to stay
all through the session. He was always present on the opening day, and
at the prefet's dinner, and took that opportunity to make a short
speech, explaining the foreign policy of the Government. I don't think
it interested his colleagues as much as all the local questions--roads,
schools, etc. It is astonishing how much time is wasted and how much
letter-writing is necessitated by the simplest change in a road or
railway crossing in France. We had rather a short narrow turning to get
into our gate at Bourneville, and W. wanted to have the road enlarged
just a little, so as to avoid the sharp angle. It didn't interfere with