GOOD NIGHT. 85 



sweet, mild, warm, and balmy airs of France, so full 

 of gentleness and love ! — may no more scenes of vio- 

 lence and blood distract the towns and cities around 

 which they breathe, nor scare nor trample down 

 the forests, woods, and flowers through which they 

 whisper, oh so gracefully, and well ! A huntsman, 

 stranger — once a foe to France, but now, he trusts, 

 for evermore her friend, his nation's prejudice for- 

 gotten — puts up a prayer for her prosperity. 



Hark ! the carriage is driving to the door — my 

 hearty friends are calling for me — when, with a kind 

 adieu to our hospitable open-hearted entertainers, we 

 rattle off, and are soon put down at the little inn 

 where abide our fine white mare and little open 

 carriage. At length, and late at night and very 

 sleepy, I stretch in my ample comfortable bed at 

 the chateau, falling off into a grateful oblivion so 

 refreshing to mind and body. 



G 3 



