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existence in France are called out, I infer, by the society's being an international one.
Sunday, June 2d.-One morning recently I was out, and was late at breakfast, which I took about 12.30. I had an excellent piece of boiled ham, such as Victor buys by the slice, already cooked, and pays for it about forty-three cents a pound.
I ask him what that woman lives on who earns thirty sous a day. "I do not know," he answers; "probably on les restes," or what is left at the restaurants. "There are people," he continues, "who, when they have a boiled dinner, sell the meat instead of eating it, because that is cheaper for them. I will show you that at the Madeleine market."
Although this is Sunday, I again hear the boys at play in the garden of the clerical school before mentioned, and I ask Victor how this can be, as it is only a day-school. He answers, "They go and gather up the children to have them attend to their religious duties, because there are parents so infamous that they would not take their children to mass." The expression "so infamous" is, of course, satirical on Victor's part.
Last evening, at the house of a friend, I saw a photograph of one of our acquaintances, and under it is written Widow Latour. Victor says that this is the fashion; and when I tell him that we should not think it good taste in my country, he warms up and inquires how we should know that she is not Miss or Mrs., as it is not written in her face.
Coming up our street to-day (Sunday) from the boulevard,—not a very long distance,-I count seven shops shut
and thirteen open, besides the apothecary's and several restaurants. It is not very uncommon in Paris to see upon shop-shutters the sign, "Closed on Sundays and Festivals."
When I reach our apartments I find Madame L. up and dressed for the first time since the birth of the little one; and now she is walking about the rooms. The doctor insisted upon ten days in bed, and she is getting along very well. Victor is exerting himself to prepare a great breakfast. I go to the cellar with him, and wait while he draws the wine. He puts into the pannier, or metallic basket, also two bottles of Bordeaux. I say, "You are going to feast; you only draw white wine." He looks at me by the light of the candle, and smiles. Perhaps he is going to celebrate madame's getting up. At breakfast, about half-past twelve, we have, among other things, sardines à l'Anglaise, sardines broiled and dressed with butter.
We must not suppose that pet names are not heard in France; perhaps they are more common among young married people, as in the following style: "Kiss me, my child!" "Dost thou want wine, my child?" "Yes, my dear." One evening, when I got home late to dinner, I found the Leblancs eating out of one plate, like little birds.
To-day at dinner we also have Bordeaux, but I cannot see the charm in it. Probably this is not first quality. However, when you have a treat of this kind, you must drink healths, and Victor drinks to my husband and family and to the United States, adding, "And may they never allow the Catholic religion to become the religion of state!" which makes me laugh, and then we have an argument on the subject. He has heard from one or more friends in New York that the Catholics are circulating petitions with this aim. I endeavor to show him the unreasonableness of the idea, and at length I speak of England, and ask
whether it is likely that such petitions would be circulated. there. I think that I succeed in reassuring the unhappy youth.
I tell him of a mistake that I had made in taking certain persons who visited here for employés in a restaurant. Madame remarks that it would not be wrong to invite such, and Victor says that Victor Hugo invites the poor and unfortunate. I add that Jesus Christ says, "When thou makest a feast, invite the poor." "Do not tell me about Jesus Christ," he says; and afterwards tells of Protestants who would not join them in the league against prostitution, but organized one of their own and did nothing. But as he goes on to speak of the Christian religion he seems to identify it with Catholicism.
Monday, June 3d.-Being out this morning about halfpast eight, I see omnibuses labelled "École Monge,” which are taking boys to school. Another omnibus with fine horses belongs to the school of St. Anne. Madame Leblanc tells me of the first that it is a school of high standing, and sends its omnibuses into all quarters of Paris to take up outside students. In the same manner, she adds, does the Jesuit college before spoken of. It has many omnibuses,—not labelled "College of St. Ignatius," however, but "Day-School of the Street of Madrid."
I see also this morning two processions, one of boys and one of lads and young men, coming from different directions; perhaps they are going to a lycée in this quarter of Paris.
While in France the weather was very rarely too warm for me, and our extremes of heat and cold may seem almost barbarous to them. This morning, however, is warm, and I
see in my walk an ecclesiastic with his broad-brimmed, turned-up hat, carrying upon his arm his over-robe, which, by the way, seems to be a little moth-eaten.
To-day I call upon a gentleman of my acquaintance, who is a doctor of law. He lives upon the Quai and I afterwards discover that I have been upon one of the islands in the Seine,-the Isle de la Cité, and one of the oldest parts of Paris. My friend is unmarried, but has apartments. The staircase is not so well kept as ours at Leblanc's, but when I get up I find that he has quite a nice parlor, with a large, handsome rug, and books, and plants. I see a picture of Garibaldi, and he tells me that he was a member of Garibaldi's regiment.
I tell him of one of my acquaintances in our country who, having children, left all his property to his wife. This cannot be done here, he says: if a man has one child, he can leave half his property to his wife or to some other; if two, he can will away the third; if more than two, he can only give away the fourth. Upon the law of divorce the gentleman also speaks. Under the Convention divorce was allowed by mutual consent, if the parties appeared before a legal tribunal and received the permission; the Code Napoléon also allowed divorces for various causes; but in 1816 divorce was abolished, and all demands for divorce are changed into demands for separation. The wife, in cases of separation, may be obliged to give something for the husband's support if she be rich and in fault. In speaking of judges, I learn that in France all judges are appointed for life by the minister of justice, with the signature of the president of the republic. All magistrates are appointed for life in the same way.
Before leaving these subjects I desire to add that I meet persons in Paris who are demanding a law for divorce and
a law to prove paternity, an unmarried woman eighteen years of age who has a child being now unable to recover anything from the father.
I ask my friend the lawyer to explain the Commune, and he says that many who are republicans do not understand it, nor do those who were in it. Was it like one of those sudden outbursts of passion in which a man does and says things quite unpremeditated?
This evening we receive a visit from a very agreeable gentleman, the liberal Protestant lately mentioned. The conversation turning upon two of the great divisions of Christians, Mr. D. says, "There is a saying in France that when there are three Catholics together two of them appoint the third a pope, but when there are three Protestants each goes to work to form a new Church or religion." I understand Mr. D. to say that there are in France thirtyeight millions called Catholics, and about four hundred thousand Protestants. Then the disproportion is greater than I had thought. The revocation of the Edict of Nantes, which drove so many Protestants out of the kingdom, of course had much to do with this.
Mr. D. explains to us the troubles of the liberal Protestant Church in Paris; some of the terms are difficult to understand. It seems that Coquerel, who preached in this church, was the suffragan of Martin Pachoud, of the Reformed Church of France, and was obliged to renew his suffraganship every five years. In 1863 he appeared for this purpose, and by the action of Guizot, the historian, it was refused to Coquerel. Guizot appeared in the consistory, and, reading passages from Coquerel's sermons, asked him whether he could say that he believed in the divinity