promising; but where were the towers of the castle? This question we repeated frequently, and the answers assured us that _là haut_ we should see the castle and the "_Trou Meluisin_." We slept well in our snow-white beds; occasionally hearing, during the night, the cracked, hollow, unearthly sound of the great church bell of the Lusignans, to which an equally ghost-like voice on the stair replied. At day-break the noise of hilarity roused us, and we found that a rural meeting was taking place below, in the _grand salon_. Our friends of the day before seemed all met previous to setting out to begin the walnut gathering; and they uttered strange jocund sounds, more wolfish than human, without a word which could be, by possibility, construed into the French language. We hurried up the rugged way which was to lead us to the castle; but, having reached the height, I rubbed my eyes, for I thought the fairy had been busy during the night, and, by a stroke of her wand, had swept away every vestige of the castle. Certain it was that not a stone was left,--not a solitary piece of wall or tower, to satisfy our curiosity! A pretty little girl of fifteen, who had hurried after us, now approached, and offered to be our _guide_. We accepted her civility, as we hoped something would ensue: she led us to a heap of bushes, and, stooping down and pulling them aside, proclaimed to us, as she pointed to a dark chasm beneath, that we stood at the entrance of the "Trou de la Fée." "This," said she, "is the hole which she used to enter, and it has a way which leads to the wood yonder: she could there rise up at her fountain, where she bathed; and from thence there is another way leading as far as Poitiers itself." We asked her if the fairy ever appeared now; but she laughed, and said, contemptuously, "Oh! no, that is all fable: it was a great while ago." She had a tragical story of a soldier who descended, resolving to attempt the adventure; but he was never seen afterwards, as might easily be expected. She, however, accounted for his fate without attributing it to supernatural causes: the superstition of Melusine has disappeared with the turrets of her castle. The church is curious, though very much defaced: in the sacristy is a circular-arched door, elaborately sculptured with the signs of the Zodiac; but the formerly-existing stones on which the effigy of the fairy appeared have been entirely swept away. The castle of Lusignan was once one of the most beautiful and powerful _châteaux forts_ in France; so strong and so singular in its construction that it was attributed to an architect of a world of spirits,--the famous witch, or fairy, Melusine; about whom so much has been written and sung for ages, and who still occupies the attention of the curious antiquary. Her story may be thus briefly told: