for excursions, each interesting in a different way. The striking
contrast with the homely ease and well to do _terre-a-terre_ about us is
the princely chateau of the Rothschilds at Ferrieres, which none should
miss seeing on any account whatever. With princely liberality also,
Baron Rothschild admits anyone to his fairy-land who takes the trouble
to write for permission, and however much we may have been thinking of
King Solomon, Haroun al Raschid, and the thousand and one nights, we
shall not be disappointed. The very name of Rothschild fills us with awe
and bewilderment! We prepare ourselves to be dazzled with gold and gems,
to tread on carpets gorgeous as peacock's tails, softer than eider-down,
to pass through jasper and porphyry columns into regal halls where the
acme of splendour can go no farther, where the walls are hung with rich
tapestries, where every chair looks like a throne, and where on all
sides mirrors reflect the treasures collected from different parts of
the world, and we are not disappointed.

Quitting the railway at the cheerful and wealthy little town of Lagny,
we drive past handsome country-houses, and well-kept flower-gardens,
then gradually ascend a road winding amid hill and valley to the
chateau, a graceful structure in white marble, or so it seems, proudly
commanding the wide landscape. The flower-gardens are a blaze of
colours, and the orange trees give delicious fragrance as we ascend the
terrace, ascend being hardly the word applicable to steps sloping so
easily upwards, so nicely adjusted to the human foot that climbing Mont
Blanc, under the same circumstances, would be accomplished without
fatigue. It is impossible to give any idea of the different kinds of
magnificence that greet us on every side, now a little Watteau-like
boudoir, having for background sky-blue satin and roses; now a
dining-hall, sombre, gorgeous, and majestic as that of a Spanish palace;
now we are transported to Persia, China, and Japan, the next we find