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ble cottage, with a little garden of flowers before it, 
and is embosomed in apple-trees, vines, &c. In a 
small arched building near it, the Marquis at first 
intended to have buried Rousseau, but changed his 
mind. From this place we soon reached the front 
of the house opposite to that whence we set out, 
and our delightful tour was at an end. 
I think you will not be displeased at my giving 
you so particular an account of it, so I make no 
apology for the length of my letter; but I have 
more to tell you. 
Hearing that the widow of Rousseau was living 
ata place not far out of our road to Paris, and 
that many strangers visited her, we felt a strong de- 
sire to do the same; but had some fears lest we 
should discover something in her which might ex- 
cite disagreeable sensations, and even perhaps lessen 
our veneration for her husband; for we heard that 
she had been his servant, and after having lived 
with him in that capacity ten years, he said to her, 
“© Ma bonne amie, I am satisfied with your fidelity, 
and wish I could make you an adequate return. I 
have nothing to give you but my hand. If you think 
that worth having, it is yours.” They were mar- 
ried; and lived together sixteen years afterwards 
very comfortably. She was several years younger 
than her husband.—At last curiosity prevailed, and 
we went to see her. She received us with the 
greatest politeness, and appeared much pleased with 
our visit; spoke in the most becoming manner of 
her husband, and readily answered every question 
1 put to her. What I principally learned from her 
