decimals. I have not yet discovered that there is any mental arithmetic in the girls' communal schools; but there seems to be some good practical, of which I bring away an example in decimals, done by a little girl of nine. The teacher dictates to them some problems to be done at home, or out of school-hours. These are devoirs or duties, and this expression is also applied to compositions. It is not long before some of the children come back from church. One brings an engraving, a very pretty one, "Jesus blessing St. Joseph." Another has a gilt-edged book, "Illustrious Christians from St. Peter to St. Augustine." Within the book is a slip of paper, bearing the words, "Parish of Souvenir of the Catechism of the 1st Communion." About half-past two (school begins at one) ten or twelve return, bringing books or pictures, all have something. These, I learn, are still too young for the first communion; they have been examined in the Little Catechism. The teacher of this third class is Madame She, too, is the mother of a family, having one child. The teacher of the fourth class, she whose class I lately visited,—being now sick, there is in her class a substitute or remplaçante, appointed thus: if one of the teachers is sick, she calls in a physician, who gives her a certificate that she is not able to teach, and tells her how many days she will probably be disabled. She sends the certificate to Mr. Gréard, at the Luxembourg, with a request that she shall have a remplaçante. There is a body of these substitutes provided by the city or by the department, and by it paid, so that the teacher does not lose any part of her salary. I tell Madame whose class I am now visiting, how our teachers in the country where I live have been accustomed to go round and visit other schools. She says that these substitutes, male and female, go from one . end of Paris to the other, and that she herself is liable to be changed to any other school or class of the same grade. Madame also tells me of the little Jewess here (and a pretty little Jewess she is) that she is not obliged to go to church. She rises during the prayer and the creed. The teacher stands also, but most of the pupils kneel upon their seats. Before school closes, the principal comes into this classroom, to give notice that at half-past three to-morrow, Sunday, the scholars who are to be catechised for their first communion will be here to go to church. On Monday and Tuesday those who are to go to church to be catechised will bring their baskets (with their breakfasts). The scholars who live at a distance are generally allowed to bring their baskets; but now, on account of the first communion, those who are going to be catechised will go to church morning and afternoon. I hear that to-morrow, Sunday, the teachers have to go to church twice, on account of the first communion. They are not forced to go, but it is expected of them, to keep the children in order. One thing that surprises me at Paris is the manner in which one dish is introduced after another, dishes that we should serve together. This evening, at dinner, we have a nice little bit of veal, roasted as I have before described, and then laid into a large dish of boiled sorrel, the juice or gravy being poured over. I eat heartily, with bread, water, and wine; and after eating his veal Victor goes out, and what he is doing I do not know. He has already put upon the table a plate of little oranges and apples, and what is he doing? He appears with a small, soft cheese,—very small,—a very little butter in a dish with water in it, and then, quite triumphantly, as it were, he produces a dish of ashy-looking potatoes in their skins. I laugh, and tell him that with us we eat the potatoes with our meat. He says that they sometimes have potatoes around the meat, but that they never eat them with meat when thus cooked. No, it is to be a distinct treat, it seems, of potatoes and butter. I wonder whether this manner of bringing on one dish after another is in any way connected with scarcity of fuel or with economy, so that a fire need only be lighted in one of those little receptacles for charcoal? A com In the evening I am again at Mr. Carpentier's. munication from America is read, and the question is before us of the non-resistant views of a certain peace society in America. I apply to them the saying of Jesus: “But I say unto you that ye resist not evil; but whosoever shall smite thee upon thy right cheek, turn to him the other also." Then Mr. Carpentier says that the opinions of a society in which he is active here are founded upon duty and right, which were the ideas of their Revolution, and which he prefers to Christianity. Among the guests is the pretty lady before spoken of; I will call her Madame Vibert-Fontaine, Vibert being her husband's name and Fontaine hers before marriage, written in the opposite manner from our own. She gives me their cards,--Charles Vibert-Fontaine, Marie Vibert-Fontaine, without any titles. She explains to me that if a man in business thus joins his wife's name to his own, the property of the wife is responsible for the husband's debts. She does not know whether their little son will choose to keep both names, but she hopes he will. I frequently meet in Paris-for they reside here—a gentleman and lady from Alsace, to whom I will give English names, calling him Brown and her Smith. He writes himself Brown-Smith, but she writes herself Brownsmith. There is in Paris. Madame Marie Pape-Carpentier, author of a little work which I saw at the infant school. I thought of calling upon her, and was told to look for the name Pape. After wards, in the north of France, I found this joining of names extremely common; but I do not remember it where I was located in the centre. It will now appear why the deputy inquired for Mrs. Ward when speaking of Julia Ward Howe. This evening Mr. Carpentier is speaking again about the hasty marriages made in France, and mentions that a lady of his acquaintance met a gentleman who desired to marry her, and to whose suit she listened; but when the preliminaries had been discussed, the gentleman declared that he desired to marry in a month. She, however, said, “If this gentleman is in such a hurry, it will be better for me not to go on with the matter." When we separate this evening, at about a quarter before twelve, Madame Vibert-Fontaine has no one to wait upon her home. She is very pretty, with dark eyes and a good deal of color, and is showily dressed. She does not seem troubled at going alone, but says that her home is close by. I tell them of a gentleman from New York who had told me that there is no danger for a woman of a certain age in going alone to Paris, but that the case is different with Madame Vibert-Fontaine. Mr. Carpentier inquires how it would have been with me when I was young. I reply that some one upon the street might have asked to wait upon me home. "And what would you have done?" "I should have been frightened." "When I was twenty two," said Mr. Carpentier, "I saw a lady in the omnibus,— a young lady almost as pretty as madame here. The pavement was slippery, and I asked if I might escort her to her house. She did not refuse; and when we got there she invited me to walk in, saying that her husband would like to make my acquaintance." During my stay in Paris I was not unfrequently out in the evening. Three persons at different times escorted me home, one was the young Swiss before mentioned, one a German gentleman long resident in America, and one a young countryman of my own. Once I say to Victor and madame that Mr. G., the young Swiss, has been more polite in waiting upon me home in the evening than any one else. One or both reply that if gentlemen wait upon ladies home here it causes remark; and if a young gentleman is seen walking with a young lady, Paris is going to be destroyed. But Victor adds that it is not so in Switzerland, for there young people can walk out together. CHAPTER VII. May 19th, Sunday.—Madame Leblanc and I, looking out into the court-yard, see a man-servant shake a mat out of the fifth story of the large house which fronts upon the street and has its back windows on this cour. I ask her whether these servants are not often idle. "Oh, yes," she says, "they loaf about,-ils flanent. It is not so with the poor workmen, who are obliged to work all the time for fear of not earning their living; while these people are lodged and fed, and have their clothes washed while idling.” |