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3, 1863.] meadows on either hand, is pleasant and pretty. Up a narrow lane, from whose walls of unhewn stones hung common English ferns, I passed more huge boulders wedged in the ground. Some peasant women were sitting on them, resting and enjoying the lovely view of the valley of the Loire, with Saumur and its four-towered castle crowning the rocks. For the French peasant has a keen sense of natural beauty. Similar boulders were scattered all along my way, half buried in the ground. The Pierre was the smallest I had seen. It is in a field opposite a solitary farm-house, from whence there is a most lovely view. For the last three days there has been bustle enough in the little town. Le quinze d’Août was at once the fête de la ville et de l’Empereur. So we had a fair and fireworks, and crowds of peasants in holiday costume, with wondrous superstructures of lace and embroidered muslin upon their heads. I cannot help thinking those curious round towers which seem suddenly to spring out of the walls a l’improviste, are modelled after a Normande bonnet, and meant as a compliment to the fair sex; or, at least, that the bonnet suggested the towers. Of course I went to see the fireworks and the illumination of the town-hall and market-house, which was pretty, and no more. I had set my heart on seeing it from the bridge, and watching the effect of light and shade on the water of the Loire, and on the turreted and crenellated Hotel de Ville, and the massive castle above. Madame Bayot and her daughters thought only of les feux d’artifices. I was forced to content myself with a walk across the bridge after all was over. That was more beautiful than rocket or bouquet. Looking down from the parapet one did not see by night the huge sand-banks which disfigure the Loire: the coloured lamps decorating a house in the suburb were reflected on the still, glassy waters, and the contrast of the illuminated Hotel de Ville, the lit-up town, the dark-wooded hill des Petits Puits, and the Loire, dark as night, except where the moonlight fell upon it, or some lamp or illuminated house cast a white, quivering gleam,—was as poetically beautiful as heart could desire. At that hour I do not think Venice itself could have looked more lovely. On Sunday there was a race, to which I did not go, of course, but I saw from my window the officers ride or drive past in all their variety of resplendent uniforms, and yesterday I went to the carrousel, which is one of the gayest, prettiest sights I ever saw, and must, I should think, greatly resemble an ancient tournament. Knowing no one in the town, I had not an officer’s ticket, and the benches of les Tribunes, to which only our billets de l’Hôtel de Ville admitted us, were so crammed, Mdlle. Nina and I returned home in despair. As we bewailed our hard fate in not seeing the carrousel, to Mdlle. Louise, a Monsieur passed, who was someway employed in the École. He took us back with him and admitted us with some bourgeoises, friends of his, into the École itself. Up stone stair after stair, through long corridors and vaulted passages, we hurried till we reached le grenier, where planks and soldiers’ bedsteads, pillows, and mattresses, were piled neatly away ready for use. In front of the garret windows stages of planks were erected, clearly for sight-seers, and on to these we scrambled, not without danger to our heads from the beams of the roof, and the planks above us. From the open window the view was splendid. Before us was the sanded closed-in arena for the carrousel, on the left the tribunes for the populace, on the right the officers’ tents, the General’s in the centre, marked by its superior height and decorations and flag, all full of gay ladies and gentlemen; and facing us, under cover, beyond the arena, the orchestra,—while behind the levée, or artificial bank raised to protect the town from the inundations of the Loire, was one mass of heads, above which spread like a panorama Pont Fouchart, Baguieu, and les terres fortes closing in the gay scene with leafy trees and green sloping fields. But, alas, we had not long enjoyed it when the General spied us, and sent orders for every one to leave the windows. I pleaded that I was a stranger, an écrivaine, finally that Lord Brougham had given me authority to use his name in travelling whenever it could benefit me, and I was sure, had I written and stated that to Messieurs les officiers Français, they would have given me an officer’s ticket at once. Monsieur, who had admitted us, retired, and shortly afterwards we were informed that we might remain, but les croisées must be closed. Vexatious, for the officers were just entering the arena, but military orders must be obeyed, and every croisée was closed. In they filed, two by two, fine young men in splendid uniforms. I was told there were eighty-two concurrents for the prizes that day. There are generally between three and four hundred sous officiers at the École. Among the jousters were three Spaniards,—for foreign officers are permitted to study here,—and there are Russian, Swedish, and Wallachian officers. The Duke of Wellington was partly educated at the Ecole de Cavalerie at Angers, since transferred to Saumur. The French may therefore at least boast with truth, that they taught our greatest general how to beat them.

It is impossible to describe the gay and splendid uniforms. There were four with steel corslets on the breast and back, and four with similar golden corslets. One Spanish officer had a light blue hussar jacket richly braided with black, and red trowsers. Some wore cocked-hats, dark blue or green coats edged with red and gold, and tight-fitting white breeches, like our hunters. The beautiful prancing horses had knots of coloured ribbon on their foreheads and manes. The prettiest were some bright bays, with violet purple ribbons and reins. To each officer as he reached the middle of the arena a sort of lance, with a pennon streaming from it, was handed, which he took, held out at arm’s length, and riding up to the general’s tent, lowered it gracefully as a salute, the horses of most seeming to make a sort of bend also, and then each rode off to the end of the lists. When all had saluted they rode backwards and forwards, passing and repassing each other, still with the lance poised in the outstretched arm. Their arms must have