the house.

We had tea in the dining-room downstairs--a large room with panels and
chimney-piece of dark carved wood. Two portraits of men in armour
stand out well from the dark background. There is such a wealth of
pictures, engravings, and tapestries all over the house that one
cannot take it all in at first. The two drawing-rooms on the first
floor are large and comfortable, running straight through the house;
the end room in the tower--a round room with windows on all sides--quite
charming. The contrast between the modern--English--comforts (low,
wide chairs, writing-table, rugs, cushions, and centre-table covered
with books in all languages, a very rare thing in a French château,
picture papers, photographs, etc.) and the straight-backed,
spindle-legged old furniture and stiff, old-fashioned ladies and
gentlemen, looking down from their heavy gold frames, is very
attractive. There is none of the formality and look of not being lived
in which one sees in so many French salons, and yet it is not at all
modern. One never loses for a moment the feeling of being in an old
château-fort.

It was so pretty looking out of my bedroom window this morning. It was
a bright, beautiful autumn day, the grass still quite green. Some of
the trees changing a little, the yellow leaves quite golden in the
sun. There are many American trees in the park--a splendid Virginia
Creeper, and a Gloire de Dijon rose-bush, still full of bloom, were
sprawling over the old gray walls. Animals of all kinds were walking
about the court-yard; some swans and a lame duck, which had wandered
up from the moat, standing on the edge and looking about with much
interest; a lively little fox-terrier, making frantic dashes at
nothing; one of the sons starting for a shoot with gaiters and