us hall,
where he asked me to wait while he went to announce my arrival to
the General. The hall was a large oblong room, plainly, but neatly
furnished, with a piano at one end, its tessellated oaken floor highly
polished, and communicating by folding-doors with an inner room, in
which I caught a glimpse of a bright wood-fire, and a portrait of Bailly
over the mantel. On the wall, to the left of the folding-doors, was
suspended an American flag with its blue field of stars and its red and
white stripes looking down upon me in a way that made my American veins
tingle.

But I had barely time to look around me before I heard a heavy step on
the stairs, and the next moment the General entered. This time he gave
me a French greeting, pressing me in his arms and kissing me on both
cheeks. "We were expecting you," said he, "and you are in good season
for dinner. Let me show you your room."

If I had had my choice of all the rooms in the castle, I should have
chosen the very one that had been assigned me. It was on the first--not
the ground--floor, at the end of a long vaulted gallery and in a tower.
There was a deep alcove from the bed,--a window looking down upon the
calm waters of the moat, and giving glimpses, through the trees, of
fields and woods beyond,--a fireplace with a cheerful fire, which had
evidently been kindled the moment my arrival was known,--the tessellated
floor with its waxen gloss,--and the usual furniture of a French
bed-room, a good table and comfortable chairs. A sugar-bowl filled
with sparkling beet sugar, and a decanter of fresh water, on the
mantel-piece, would have shown me, if there had been nothing else to
show it, that I was in France. The General looked round the room to make
sure that all was comfortably arranged for me, and then renewing his
welcome, and telling me that the castle-bell would ring for dinner in
about half an hour, left me to take possession of my quarters and change
my dress.

If I had not been afraid of getting belated, I should have sa

Margaret Oliphant Oliphant (nee Margaret Oliphant Wilson) (April 4, 1828 - June 25, 1897), Scottish novelist and historical writer, daughter of Francis Wilson, was born at Wallyford, near Musselburgh, East Lothian.

Stephen Oliver can refer to:

Various, or Various Production, is an English dubstep/electronic music duo formed in 2003. The group blends samples, acoustic and electronic instrumentation, and singing from a revolving cast of vocalists. Its members, Adam and Ian, purposefully give very little information about the group or themselves, and tend to do little in the way of self-promotion.[1] Nevertheless, the group began winning critical acclaim with its single releases in 2005 and 2006.[2] Their full-length for XL, The World is Gone, arrived in July of 2006.[3][4][5][6][7] They have released a large number of vinyl EPs and 7 records, as well as digital exclusives for Rough Trade, iTunes, and Boomkat.[8]