At length I have this morning enjoyed the happiness of seeing and admiring the most respectable and interesting of human beings. During the three days we have been at Lagaraye, I have had time to inform myself thoroughly of all he has done. I desired to know him perfectly by his actions before I saw him; and beyond all I wished, that my son (previously to that moment he so anxiously waited for) might be circumstantially acquainted with the degree of admiration which Mons. de Lagaraye merited from him, in order that I might observe the impression, which the first interview with so extraordinary a man produced on Theodore. It was not sufficient for me that my son should behold him with emotion; I would have him unable to approach him without transport; and said to myself, ‘If Theodore is not beside himself at the sight of St. André's benefactor, and of the founder of all these works, I have deceived myself; my system of education is of no value, and I have done nothing worthy of praise.’

This morning my son, awakened by his impatience, rose before day; and all of us were drest and assembled by six o'clock; and conducted by St. André took the road to what is here from habit still called the Castle. It is a quarter of a league from the village, through an avenue of ancient elms. Adelaide and Theodore, though naturally so lively, walked quietly by us, keeping a profound silence, instead of skipping and chattering incessantly, as is their practice when animated by any thing interesting: the truth is, they were really struck. A common sentiment is exprest by lively and quick motions, but a deep impression even produces a kind of oppression and recollection, which renders us at once equally serious, attentive, and sedate. We were all on foot, and after a quarter of an hour's walk we perceived at the bottom of the avenue a castle, whose elegant and noble architecture displayed grandeur and magnificence.