set of rooms upon a public square and keeps no servant, and is "crazy on the subject of order."

The manner of holding this congress is very different from ours in similar conventions. After this opening meeting they will adjourn for several days, and it may be twelve or more before the sessions close. Also there will be a banquet. Paris seems to be very fond of banquets. There was one at the centenary of Voltaire; there will be one of the societies for the protection of animals.

The permanent presidents chosen for the congress are Julia Ward Howe and Antide Martin, a member of the municipal council. Of him Victor Leblanc afterwards tells me that he lived at St. Étienne, a city not far from Lyons, at the time of Napoleon's coup d'état; and that he exerted himself to rouse his fellow-citizens against Napoleon, who had broken his oath to sustain the republic. For this Martin was banished to New Caledonia.

There were present at the congress two Italian ladies whom I especially observed. One was Miss Mazzoni, a young and delicate-looking woman, who brought a letter from the society of the democracy of Rome. Upon the

platform at one end were a number of reporters, and I observed much smiling there, as if two or three were inclined to ridicule a thing so new here as an international congress of women; but when Miss Mazzoni read her address their manner changed: no speaker appeared to make a more profound impression. The other Italian lady was older; she was Madame Aurelia Cimino Folliero, who told me that she is editor of The Cornelia, a serious journal, not for the fashions, but for the education of women. Madame Folliero seemed to think it an important fact that this journal is patronized by the queen. Madame F. is the mother of a large family, having had ten children. She

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tells me that she is a delegate from the Italian government to study the French agricultural schools for women. these she says that there are six or more in which women carry on all agricultural labors.

Before the close of this session of the convention comes up the question of the banquet, and produces the most animated debate. Fifteen francs had before been suggested as the price of admission; but one of my friends, who was making a silk dress which she expected to wear upon the occasion, told me that she did not think she should go if the price was so high. The majority of the congress agree with her, for the price is settled much lower,-I think at six francs. And while speaking on this subject, I will add that a young lady dined with us one evening at Leblanc's, whose brother was a member of the French educational commission to our Exposition. While she is there, mention is made of a ball for teachers of the public schools; and Victor afterwards tells me that there was a supper at the ball, of which you could partake for five francs; and those who did not partake did not have to pay. "But," I ask, "who, then, pays for the music?" "That is comprised with the supper," is the reply.

One morning as I was going to Mr. Carpentier's I saw a woman driving in an open carriage. She was dressed in pink muslin, and her servant was behind her. I spoke to Mr. Carpentier about her, and he said that ladies sometimes drive, and it has become more common within a few years; but they do not drive in conspicuous toilets. He adds that kept women drive a good deal; and says that five or six thousand francs a month are sometimes expended on such women. Dr. P., my German acquaintance, said

that these women are the great vice of Paris; that one man will keep one, two, three, four.

I do not like to close my chapter and division with such a subject. We will now pass to the scenes of rural France, which, as statistics quoted show, is of a different character from the great metropolis.

PART II.

CENTRAL FRANCE.

CHAPTER XVI.

The

Tuesday, July 2d.-Last evening I left Paris for the south, but not the south of Marseilles or Nice: the farm that I visit is in the latitude of Lyons. Great is the press at Paris as we approach the Lyons station, and the detention is considerable; but, as I have no baggage but what I can manage to carry, I am not detained to register it, and I get through. I ride all night in a third-class car. peasant-women who, for a part of the way at least, are with me I suppose to be returning from the Exposition or the fête. How blackened one of them looks! We are in a division for women only,-dames seules. Once, when there seemed to be a little unpleasant familiarity, it subsided on my taking out my note-book and writing in it. I have spoken of my fears before starting upon this journey, and now I feel unpleasantly impressed by hearing towns named for saints. About five in the morning we change cars at St. Germain des Fossés, and here I get bread and wine. Locust-trees by the roadside look familiar. The view is extensive, the country green. "What are those plants?" I ask, and immediately perceive that they are vines. The vineyards are very pretty now, the plants being of a tender, yellowish green. The morning is quite cool. The houses of yellowish stone

and roofs of red tiles, the cut hay, the standing wheat, altogether look as if I might be happy; and that line of Addison occurs to me,—

"How has kind Heaven adorned the happy land."

How laborious, too, man has been!

Another station is St. Germain l'Espinasse. Here tidylooking women get into my division, wearing caps instead of bonnets; and two of them have market-baskets. One has butter at twenty-five sous, which would be about twenty-two and a half cents for our pound. She has eggs at sixteen sous the dozen, and nice cherries at four sous the pound. I buy some, which help out my early lunch. Women in the cars are eating apricots from Paris. How apricots abound in this country! They also have some green things that look like walnuts for pickling, but they cut them open and eat the well-grown almonds from within. I leave the train at R., whence I am to go by another conveyance to my destination. I will call the village Boissière. There is quite a kissing-time at the station; from two to five kisses, always on both cheeks. Women kiss women; men kiss men; men and women kiss; women shed tears; men are not always ashamed to have moisture in their eyes. R., where I leave the railway, is a town of about twenty-four thousand people, having eighteen cottonfactories. Formerly cotton was manufactured here by hand, but within about six years steam has been introduced. Very many cottons are still, however, made by hand. The place has an octroi,—that peculiar tax of French towns. On the street I meet a fine pair of fragrant oxen drawing a wagon, and hear a hoarse voice, which proceeds from a donkey who seems to be drawing his cart home from market. Towards noon I breakfast at the Hôtel du

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