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the people collect journals for them, as is done among us for those in hospitals?

I take a very long walk to the Luxembourg palace, having a card of introduction to present to Mr. Gréard, who is at the head of grammar-school education here. I get into Old Paris, and sit down upon a bridge over the Seine, the Pont Neuf, and talk with a couple of women, one of them of that numerous class who wear caps, but no bonnets. She is quite intelligent, and tells me that the Pont Neuf was built by Henry IV. She points out the equestrian statue of Henry close by, and we talk about his history. How sensible some of these women are! On the street are hanging little colored pictures, which I stop to see, and beside me is another of these women. "They ridicule the priests," I say to her, and she gives me a look indicating that she has not much regard for the priests. What a wonderfully interesting city Paris is! Reaching that old palace, the Luxembourg, I seek the office of Mr. Gréard, director of communal schools. I do not see him, however; I hear that he is much occupied with the Exposition, but I can see his secretary. These offices are up four flights of stairs, and that of the secretary is small and plain, paved with hexagonal tiles. I show him my letter of introduction to the learned professor before mentioned, and he says, "You desire to visit public schools; probably those of the girls?" He does not seem to suppose that I want to see the boys. I reply that I want to visit both, but if I cannot obtain permission to do so, I will take that to visit the girls. He notes down what I want and my address. The matter this important matter-will doubtless be referred to his chief, so I depart.

Victor Leblanc, my host, says that he favors co-educa

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tion of the sexes; he proposed it in some private societies for instruction. I tell him about men's smiling when the subject is mentioned, and he says, "We have people who think we are lost when they see a boy and girl together. We are so corrupt that we imagine there is evil in it." For myself, the great care which so many French people have to guard the intercourse of the young of both sexes reminds me of the dread which our temperance people have for the use of any intoxicating drink.

May 10th. The narrative of the preceding day is very long. This is caused by my having gone forward in order to preserve more unity in subjects upon which I write. Mrs. Leblanc comes in this morning with bread and meat, which she has been buying for the eleven o'clock breakfast, and goes at once to the book to put down what she has bought and the price. She says that every month they reckon up their expenses.

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The window of my room looks upon the court-yard, which is kept in beautiful order by the concierge and his wife, being much nicer than one near by. The floor of my room is waxed, and there is a rug before the bed. I ask Victor whether I may shake the mat out of my window, and he replies that I may, if I do it before the concierge is up, adding that the concierges are the plagues of houses, like the plagues of Egypt. Being up lately about halfpast three, I shake the rug at the window with impunity. Looking out of my window one Sunday morning, Mrs. Leblanc and I see the man, the concierge, below scraping asparagus. Mrs. L. says that the concierges live very well at times, better than some who rent apartments; but that it is a life of slavery, because the two can never go out together.

This pair have quite a handsome room, but she says that she knows a concierge, a widow, who is very unhealthily lodged.

In speaking of marriages, Mrs. Leblanc says, "Among people like ourselves and among mechanics marriages are made for love,—d'inclination,—but it is not so among the rich; they only wish to marry the rich, and they make very bad marriages. They are called suitable marriages,—de convenance, but I call them unsuitable."

This evening I receive from Mr. Gréard permission to visit a goodly number of girls' primary or grammar schools, but none to visit the boys'. Can any danger be anticipated from the mother of a collegian? Further, there is no permission to visit the asyles or infant schools, nor any of the clerical schools.

What a quantity of little dogs upon the streets! although Victor tells me that they are taxed ten francs a year. But a large dog is rarely seen. One afternoon, when the season is more advanced, I see a fat woman upon the street, redfaced, as if warm, and leading by chains two small dogs. One of them is a female, apparently in an interesting



May 11th.-To-day I have the pleasure of calling upon Mr. Gréard, and I afterwards receive permission to visit other schools, but none of the boys'. Although the Luxembourg was a palace, all parts of it are not elegant; but

Mr. Gréard's office is large, neat, and carpeted. From the palace an arched way opens directly into the Luxembourg gardens; and how lovely they seem on leaving the office which was dark in comparison! A sentry, a young soldier, is on guard; and, looking towards the palace, I ask him who built it. "I cannot tell you," he says; but I afterwards learn that soldiers on guard are not expected to converse. There has been a shower; the garden-grass is of a light-green and the flowers are bright. I sit down upon a bench, on the other end of which is a woman falling asleep,an old woman in a cap, with a red face as if she has been drinking. As it is lunch-time, I find a cheap restaurant outside, and am not delighted with a dirty cloth, poor butter, acrid wine, and two chattering young men at the same table, one of whom wears his hat all the time. I see some other parts of the premises which are even less pleasing, and when I go forth and again enter the gardens they are again charming, especially by contrast. Here a woman in a cap seems to have finished her lunch, and is feeding sparrows with bread-crumbs, while a young man upon the same bench, at a little distance, is looking on. How many young men there are here, and in the busiest part of the Parisian's day, between the eleven o'clock breakfast and the evening dinner! Here, too, are women with their sewing, -one young woman on the bench with me is embroidering, -and there are plenty of children. The water is flowing in the fountain, the large one with statues; some one calls it the Fountain de Medicis; birds are bathing and drinking in its waters. Horse-chestnut trees are yet in bloom, and their shade is growing heavy. Quantities of chairs are turned up around trees, I suppose for use when there is music. A A company of youths pass through, going to some school. A young man sits down and is sociable with the

young embroiderer on this bench; nearly opposite me, in a chair, is a young man with books and portfolio. There comes into my mind the student-at-law who abandons the girl in one of Victor Hugo's novels.

The size of the Luxembourg gardens surprises me. Behind me an old man has been spading a large garden-bed, and now they are unloading plants from a wagon; birds are warbling; what a paradise after all those crowded holes! What sort of a place has this young embroiderer come out of? While she talks she stitches. She and the young man help me to fix the date of their late revolution, September 4th, 1870; and from this epoch, as Victor has told me, date the words so often seen on public buildings, "Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité."

The fountain of which I have spoken is finely built and imposing. Close by it is a nice-looking man with two young girls. I ask him who built it, but he cannot tell. Walking around it, I see a poor woman with a baby; neither does she know; she thinks there may be an inscription on the other side, but I find only a coat-of-arms and a crown cut in the stone. Not far off is a soldier in handsome uniform putting a collar upon a dog,—a much larger and finer animal than the puppies of Paris. The soldier tells me that Marie de Medicis built the Luxembourg. "Was she the wife of Henry the Fourth?" I ask; but he thinks that Henry's wife was Margaret of Valois; then I suggest that he was twice married.* I venture to inquire whether the decoration on the breast of the soldier is that

* In 1572, Henry of Navarre married Margaret of Valois, daughter of Catherine de Medicis, and sister of the reigning king, Charles the Ninth. In 1599 this marriage was dissolved, and Henry, become king of France, married Marie de Medicis, niece of the grand duke of Tuscany.

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