now are some who have permission to accompany brothers or sisters to the mass. Next Wednesday there will be another ceremony at church,-the confirmation,-but there will not be so many absent then. I have spoken of the schools being in a state of disorganization; but, in conversing with two of the teachers, they are not satisfied with the expression they consider it more exact to say that on account of the obligatory absence of the principal, and of many of the children, their classes are found depopulated. I inquire of them about the clerical schools, and I understand that these were established before the others; they say that the nuns have money to furnish children with clothing that they may need. "Where do they get it?" I inquire. "It is given to them by rich ladies." "At the clerical school," I say, "there is a crucifix and there are pictures." Triumphantly one or both point to a crucifix, which I had not noticed,—a small one,-on high over the principal's desk. These are furnished to all the city schools (some, of course, would not accept them, the Protestants and Jews). In the principal's room I find that out of thirty-six pupils, six are present to-day. I ask who gives them their lessons in her absence, and they point to the blackboard; their duties are assigned to them. Here I look into a school history, and find it highly enthusiastic on the subject of Napoleon Bonaparte. About half-past ten the principal returns from church. She looks very neat in a black cashmere, handsomely trimmed with black silk, a gay neck-ribbon, and gay bonnet. Afterwards a flower is brought in in a pot; I imagine it a present to her for her attention in bringing the children to church. I finish the morning in the room of the second-class teacher, the only one unmarried. She is very agreeable; I will call her Miss Fleutet. seemed to me more piously inclined than the others, and

She

there appears to be a difference in sentiment between her and others on the question of religious education in the schools. She tells me that those parents who do not want it are spendthrifts and drunkards. She complains that her class is badly graded; the inspector, finding the fourth class too full, had divided pupils from it between the second and third classes. She says that she thinks he is trying an experiment. I ask the salary of inspectors, and she thinks it is six thousand francs. In this school there are two hundred pupils, of whom one is Protestant and one Jewish (already mentioned). In Miss Fleutet's room maps are hanging, and here I observe the same centralization—if I may use the word that I have seen elsewhere. It is France, France, France. There is a map of the ward in which the school stands; one of Paris and its environs; one of the department of the Seine,—that department, small in size but great in population, in which Paris stands; there is also an outline map of France, with a small part of adjacent countries; and the only other unrolled is one of Palestine (I infer for sacred history). She has only one blackboard, and it is not large. There is a little altar or shrine, with a small image of Mary and a couple of flowerpots. But this "Holy Virgin" is also, I think, furnished to the schools. After leaving the school I desire some further information, and I address a note to this teacher, who is so polite as to come and call upon me, as I shall mention.

Among the various objects which I see at this season upon the varied streets of Paris are the young girls dressed for the first communion. I see one to-day in white muslin, no bonnet, but a long, white veil, and white shoes, like a bride. They are interesting. My American friend says

that white prayer-books and white porte-monnaies are also used on this occasion,—a prayer-book bound in bone or ivory, and a white porte-monnaie in which to carry the offering ; but I do not find that a contribution is obligatory. Boys wear a white brassard, or handsome ribbon, around the arm, and sometimes white pantaloons, but the weather as yet is not suited to such clothing.

Upon a wall I see a handbill concerning a sale of the goods of some woman deceased. The handbill is printed. by Widows Renon, Maulde, and Cock, Rue de Rivoli, No. 144. Victor tells me jestingly that their husbands were printers; and, after having well wept them, they continued the business.

I tell him that my relative will think him a dreadful Republican if she sees his invitations headed "Liberty! Equality! Fraternity!" He answers gayly that he is as well known as the white wolf. "When they see me persons say, 'V'la un bon!' There is a good fellow."

Saturday, May 25th.-Summer days are long in this latitude. This morning at about a quarter before four the sparrows begin to twitter, and I can read coarse print at

the window.

To-day, at the Exposition, I see a crowd in our Mechanical Department, gathered around Fay's band-saw, and there are many thoughtful and interested faces. One person is a Swiss, another a German, and workmen in white blouses or in blue clothes are conspicuous among the crowd.

Madame C., the French lady from the south, whose husband is exhibiting here, is attentive to me to-day; and I am delighted to learn that all the difficulties in the way

of my going to their neighborhood are likely to be removed. She and I observe among the crowd of people a young lady dressed in black silk, who holds up her dress and shows her nice white skirt, her sky-blue silk stockings, and her low shoes with plated buckles and very high heels. Madame C. says that those heels fatigue her enormously, but that the lady would not like to say so because of coquetry (or desire to please).

At the Exposition there is a very showy collection of fruit and tomatoes, exhibited by Ella Haller, of Philadelphia. A Belgian woman who is looking at it tells me that we have some very fine fruits in that island there, and it is surprising because we have not a fine sun. Probably she confuses us with England.

Sunday, May 26th.-When I got home last evening, Victor told me of the vexation that he has had about registering the baby's birth. Upon the birth of a child notice must be given within three days at the mayor's office (there being twenty mayors in as many different wards). An old law required that the child should be brought within three days and its sex examined, that France should not be cheated out of a young soldier. But this early exposure was considered so injurious to the health of children that the law was modified, and a certain officer or officers are now allowed to visit the house and see the infant. While I was at the Exposition, and Victor absent awhile, leaving word with the concierge, the officer came, but refused to await Victor's return, and demanded that the child should be presented at the mayor's. Victor wanted to contest this order, but to-day he concludes to get a carriage and go, and I accompany him. I carry the baby (Victor is lame), and although the day is fine, I must be horribly shut up in the carriage on account of that precious infant. We do not

find the mayor, but a clerk; another party is before us,—a man, a woman, and another man to act as witness. That baby has been brought on foot, and is a day old. When they are through, Victor allows the clerk to examine his little one, and I can look at the handbills around the room. Many questions are asked, thus: "What is your name? what your wife's? what is your age? what is hers? what is your business?" "Book-keeper." "What is hers?" "Teacher of the piano." "Is the child to be put away?" "No." So the clerk need not prepare a notice on that account. The law forbids giving family names: if my name is Smith and I have a cousin named Green, I must not name my son Green Smith, because he might choose to call himself Green and cause confusion; but I may call him Byron Smith, because it is permitted to name children for great men. See how guarded France is!

I have spoken of the notices upon the walls of the office. One is of the society to protect infancy, recognized as an establishment of public utility in 1869. This society undertook to send physicians-its agents-to watch over the health of children placed at a distance from their parents, and entirely free of cost to them. But now the government has taken this matter in charge.

I here bring together several different items of interest. As the French so rarely emigrate to our country, I ask Victor what becomes of their surplus population. He says that they have none, but are bringing laborers from Italy and Belgium.

I am told that under the Empire deputies received 12,000 francs a year, and senators 30,000; but that now both are paid alike, 9000, or $1800, which is very low compared with the $5000 paid to our Congressmen.