was an anti-climax after the outside and after Langeais. When we came out from "viewing the interior," as the guide-books say, I walked all round the Château again, looking up at the carved chimneys and the sculptured windows, the charming turrets, and the sloping roof of blue grey slate; all so light and elegant, seeming to say, "Come and live here. You will be happy." Oh, they have some lovely things in Europe, that we can never have in our new country! We've a good excuse for wanting to come over here. But it's so good to feel that the things are for us, and for everybody—not just for England, or France, or Italy, as the case may be.
To-morrow we are going to try and see three châteaux—Ussé, and Luynes, and Chinon. We'll come back to Tours and our dear Hotel de l'Univers; but the day after—good-bye to both, and how-do-you-do Loches! I'll leave this open, and put in a postscript. I haven't given you a real, characteristic postscript for a long time.
Evening; and Loches.
"Here I am again!" as Jack-in-the-Box says, And we've done all the things I said we were going to. But I'm too full of Loches and too excited about Loches to tell you anything of yesterday's three castles, except to fling them an adjective or two, and pass on. Let me see, what adjective, since I've confined myself to one, shall I give Ussé? "Splendid," I think. "Interesting" is all I can afford for Luynes, though it deserves a lot more, if only for its history. And well—"magnificent" must do for Chinon. Per-
