shines in my eyes! what a horrible abyss! Great God! what a frightful day shines in my eyes! what sad fires! Yes, hell, to avenge my crime, is open, and awaits its victim. Great God! what a future, weeping and groaning, and always hating thee."

In the afternoon I am again near the same great church. I have asked whether I shall not finish by liking St. Augustine's. Like many, if not all, of the fine buildings of Paris, it has an open place; it is not crowded so that one cannot see it. This afternoon, in the open space before the church, the funny low fountain, with its many jets, is playing. Church and state are close together; there is the great stone barrack,-the altar and the sword. See the funny little soldiers, who do not stand up straight, who wear short, wide red trousers and big red epaulets. Are not many of them clumsy from having worn wooden shoes? Near by is an omnibus office. What lovely omnibus horses! it is an enjoyment to look at them.

Hereby Mr. Gréard is forever acquitted of having allowed me to visit a boys' school. Yes, the card of introduction which I carry this afternoon to the principal of the school, 33 Rue Tournefort, was given to me by a private person, whom I met in a private house. While I am now preparing this volume, France has a republican senate. Let us then confidently trust that no harm will befall the principal for admitting me. On the way to the school I see some little children at play in a shady yard, boys and girls together. On a bench a woman is sitting, probably a teacher, and she invites me to visit this school, which is a Protestant infant-school. It is the evangelical Euvre de St. Marcel,

not a government establishment, but supported by private contributions.

Going a short distance farther, I arrive at the manuallabor school, and find the principal in the shop. This school is a large one, and to it is attached a workshop for modelling, moulding, sculpture, cabinet-work, turning, blacksmithing, and tool-making. Doubtless the principal is a man of varied talents. Out of three hundred and seventy pupils, only forty-five, however, are at manual labor. I see at work intelligent-looking boys, from eleven to fourteen years old. Leaving the workshop and going through the yard, Mr. L. shows me the Sunday games. Every Sunday morning he accompanies the boys to mass from nine to ten, only about half of them coming for this purpose. He must always accompany them to church, and then he conducts them to the school, and as a recompense allows them to play until breakfast-time at croquet, ninepins, and other active games, the materials for which are here provided. (Imagine the noise, as at the school lately mentioned.) Mr. L. takes me into different parts of the school, and also into a decent kitchen with a range, where a woman is in charge. Here, for two sous, the scholar can get something for breakfast. To-day it has been beans, cooked with pork; two days it is a ragout; and on Friday, potatoes cooked with milk, the boys bringing their own bread. About eighty out of the three hundred and seventy buy food here. I ask Mr. L. who the persons are that send children to the public schools. He says that the rich send to private schools, colleges, and lycées, but that grocers, bakers, workingmen, etc., send to communal or public schools. I venture to inquire of Mr. L. concerning a violet ribbon which he wears in the buttonhole of his coat, and learn that he is officer of academy,―a grade of honor.

There is a higher grade,―officers of public instruction, who wear the rosette; and women may obtain both. Madame Pape-Carpentier, before mentioned, author of the gymnastic games for children, belongs to the former grade. This violet ribbon, however, is not the only honor to which Mr. L., of the manual-labor school, has attained. He has received twenty medals in silver, bronze, and so forth. I understand that there are seven grades through which teachers may pass, namely: especial mention, honorable mention, bronze medal, silver medal, academic badge (the ribbon), public instruction badge (the rosette), and the cross of the Legion of Honor. With this violet ribbon are connected silver palms, to wear on great occasions, and, to the higher grades, gilded palms. I say to Mr. L. that I should like to remain until school closes. However, it does not finish at four, like most of the communal schools. At four they have gymnastics, and school closes at half-past six. This large establishment of three hundred and seventy pupils is divided into six classes and has fifteen professors.

I call to-day to see a lady living in the same quarter of Paris, an American woman whom I have met at the banker's. I pass through Rue St. Médard, and find scarcely an elevated sidewalk, but the gutters running at a few feet distance from the houses. What funny names some of the Paris streets have! One of my acquaintances lives in Hell Street,-Rue d'Enfer. Victor says that there are Paradise Street and Heaven Street, and that all that is wanting is Purgatory Street. This afternoon I find Street of the Hermit's Well, and here is another barrack and more soldiers. My friend boards on the Place Monge. The house has a garden, that rarity in Paris; it is not very large, to

be sure, but it is planted and you can sit in it. She has succeeded in obtaining very low board, paying here one hundred francs (twenty dollars) a month; she tells me, too, of other moderate places in a very fashionable quarter. She has been for a considerable time in Europe, and she is now attending lectures in Paris. She speaks of very fine lectures at the College of France, and there are also free lectures at the Garden of Plants.

CHAPTER VIII.

Wednesday, May 22d.-As I wish to hear the earlier part of the catechism, I go this morning to the Madeleine church; but I hear that the catechism is at the Assumption, and when I arrive there I am told that it has been finished for some time; so I suppose that the first communion at the Madeleine has already taken place. This small church of the Assumption is furnished with benches; a lady tells me that it is a chapel belonging to the Madeleine, where the catechism is held.

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To-day I visit the Garden of Plants. Just outside of one of the entrances is a large old hospital; on its front is, 'Hospital of our Lady of Pity. Founded in 1613. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity," and the tri-color swaying softly in the afternoon air. I enter the archway, but am not allowed to visit the hospital, being told that all the hospitals of Paris are open to the public on Thursday and Saturday, from one to three. One-fourth of the population of Paris die in hospitals, alms-houses, and prisons. I meet here a French gentleman with whom I was acquainted

in Philadelphia. Speaking to me of our hard times, he adds, "You have no hospitals in America."

I enter the Garden of Plants, that celebrated resort, in the morning of this day, and see something of its walks, its trees, and grass. In going about, I meet a soldier with the cross of the Legion of Honor; probably he is one of the guards. He says that he is retired, having served twentyfive years, and is fifty-one. But he has beautiful teeth. He tells me that he was in the Crimean and Chinese wars, and has been in Algiers also. I speak of our not loving to spend much money upon armies, but on our public schools; and he replies that we spend four hundred millions of francs upon our public schools, and they spend fifty-five millions only. He adds that the French public-school system really went into operation under Guizot, as minister, in 1833. I leave the garden to obtain lunch, and find a little creamery near by upon the Rue Linné, named for Linnæus. The creamery is paved with six-sided tiles. It is kept by a woman, and here I can get chocolate with milk. The woman tells me that her husband works upon a railroad, and that she keeps this place and has a small custom; she has two children, a son of thirteen and a daughter of five, boarding with her parents, who are alone in the Vosges. After a simple lunch I return to the garden, where, besides my soldier just mentioned, I had observed an old man and woman seated on a bench, she having two fine children in charge. He has a basket with bits of paper in it, and a stick with a nail in the end; he talks so fast and has such poor teeth that I cannot understand him. Doubtless he is a rag-picker by profession, but how decent he looks compared with the same class in my native city! Among