Just before leaving France, now a year ago, on a clear and lovely day of October, in company with a friend, I visited this famous seat, which at once reminded me of the prints of it so common at shop-windows in my childhood. It is a picturesque and venerable castle, with five round towers, a moat, a drawbridge, an arched gateway, ivy-clad walls, and a large court-yard within, embosomed in trees, except on one side, where a beautiful lawn spreads its verdure. Everything speaks to us. The castle itself is of immemorial antiquity,--supposed to have been built in the earliest days of the French monarchy, as far back as Louis le Gros. It had been tenanted by princes of Lorraine, and been battered by the cannon of Turenne, one of whose balls penetrated its thick masonry. The ivy so luxuriantly mantling the gate, with the tower by its side, was planted by the eminent British statesman, Charles Fox, on a visit during the brief peace of Amiens. The park owed much of its beauty to Lafayette himself. The situation harmonized with the retired habits which found shelter there from the storms of fortune. It is in the level district of Brie, famous for its cheese, and forming part of the province of Champagne, famous for its wine,--about forty-five miles to the east of Paris, remote from any high-road, and at some distance from the railway recently opened through the neighborhood, in a country rich with orchards and smiling with fertility of all kinds. The estate immediately about the castle contains six hundred acres, which in the time of Lafayette was enlarged by several outlying farms. The well-filled library occupied an upper room in one of the towers, and near a window overlooking the farm-yard still stood the desk at which Lafayette was in the habit of sitting, with the speaking-trumpet by which he made himself heard in the yard, and with the account-book of the farm lying open as he had left it. All about were souvenirs of our country, showing how it engaged his thoughts. The castle is now occupied by the family of one of his grandchildren, whose hospitable welcome to us as Americans gave token of their illustrious ancestor, hardly less than these precious memorials and the full-length portrait by Ary Scheffer which looked down from the walls. * * * * * And now holding up to view a model of surpassing fidelity in support of Human Rights, I am not without hope that others may see the beauty of such a character and try to make it in some measure their own. There is need of it among us. We, too, must be faithful. * * * * *