As we rolled on at a very tolerable pace, towards le Mans, we met a troop of conscripts on the road; forced from their homes, torn from all early and dear associations--and there they were, as gay as larks, singing and laughing till the welkin rang. Yet the French people do not like the conscription. The government of Napoleon had become intolerable from it; and the irksome taxes comprised under the title of _droits réunis_, was another source of discontent. It is a very general mistake to suppose that words are merely the representatives of ideas, when every day experience shows us that a change in words is often of much more consequence than a change in things. The Bourbon family, on their restoration, promised that the _conscription_ should be abolished, and that the _droits réunis_ should no longer exist; and consequently their names were expelled from the catalogue of government terms: but as it was found absolutely necessary that the king should be supplied with soldiers, and the state with money, the name of _jeunes soldats_ was substituted for _conscrits_, and _contributions indirectes_ for that of _droits réunis_. This proved highly satisfactory to all; and there were only a few weak-minded individuals, who took snuff, and pretended that, in reality, things remained just as they were. We rolled on.--One little act of kindness, one smile from a warm and benevolent heart, is worth all the cant and politeness in the world. It was a changeable autumn day, and as we came to the top of the hill which overlooks the rich valley of Gacé, a dark heavy storm, which had obscured the sky for more than an hour, suddenly broke away, and left the whole scene beaming in light and loveliness. My friend was much fatigued, and as we were about to change horses here, we agreed to stay and dine. The post-house was the inn, and, on driving up to the door, a fine portly old man, and two black-eyed blooming girls, came out to greet the travellers on their arrival with so much frankness and good-nature in their faces that, had we been travelling on life and death, we must even have stayed to dinner there. The first room in all Norman inns is the kitchen, and thither Monsieur Butet led us, and introduced us in form to _Madame sa femme_, who was the counterpart of her husband--the same age and size for a woman as he was for a man, with the same look of hilarity and health, and the same frank open countenance that bade you welcome before she spoke. Every thing, too, around them was clean and neat, and bespoke a family of cheerful regularity. My feet were very wet with getting in and out of the carriage to pay the postboys, so the two girls took me under their special protection, and setting me by the side of the large chimney, blew up the fire to dry me, while Madame Butet got, the dinner ready, and her husband showed my friend to a room where he could lie down. I will not say they were civil--civil seems a mercenary word--they were kind.