in a pleasant, open space, near one of the chief gates or entrances before mentioned.  The evening was uncommonly sweet and serene:  and the moon, now nearly full, rose with more than her usual lustre ... in a sky of the deepest blue which I had yet witnessed.  I shall not readily forget the conversation of that walk.  My companion spoke of his own country with the sincerity of a patriot, but with the good sense of an honest, observing, reflecting man.  I had never listened to observations better founded, or which seemed calculated to produce more beneficial results.  Of our country, he spoke with an animation approaching to rapture.  It is only the exercise of a grateful feeling to record this—­of a man—­whose name I have forgotten, and whose person I may never see again.  On quitting each other, I proceeded somewhat thoughtfully, to an avenue of shady trees, where groups of men and women were sitting or strolling—­beneath the broad moon beam—­and chanting the popular airs of their country.

The next morning I quitted Nancy.  The first place of halting was St. Nicholas—­of which the elegant towers had struck us on the other side of Nancy.  It was no post town:  but we could not pass such an ecclesiastical edifice without examining it with attention.  The village itself is most miserable; yet it could once boast of a press which gave birth to the Liber Nanceidos.[201] The space before the west front of the church is absolutely choked by houses of the most squalid appearance—­so that there is hardly getting a good general view of the towers.  The interior struck us as exceedingly interesting.  There are handsome transepts; in one of which is a large, circular, central pillar; in the other, an equally large one, but twisted.  One is astonished at finding such a large and beautiful building in such a situation; but formerly the place might have been large and flourishing.  The west front of this church may rival two-thirds of similar edifices in France.

Domballe was the next post:  the drive thither being somewhat picturesque. Luneville is the immediately following post town.  It is a large and considerable place; looking however more picturesque at a distance than on its near approach:  owing to the red tiles of which the roofs are composed.  Here are handsome public buildings; a fountain, with eight jets d’eau—­ barracks, a theatre, and the castle of Prince Charles, of Lorraine.  A good deal of business is carried on in the earthenware and cotton trade—­of both which there is a manufactory—­together with that of porcelaine.  This place is known in modern history from the Treaty of Luneville between the Austrians and French in 1801.  From hence we went to Benamenil, the next stage; and in our way thither, we saw, for the first time since leaving Paris, a flock of geese! Dined at Blamont—­the succeeding post town.  While our cutlets were preparing we strolled to the old castle, now in a state of dilapidation.  It is not spacious, but is a picturesque relic.  Within the exterior walls is a fine kitchen garden.  From the top of what might have been the donjon, we surveyed the surrounding country—­at that moment rendered hazy by an atmosphere of dense, heated, vapour.  Indeed it was uncommonly hot.  Upon the whole, both the village and Castle of Blamont merit at least the leisurely survey of an entire day.