hind. A beggar-woman is in the court-yard, to-day, chanting almost like a priest. Afterwards there are two, a woman singing, a man sometimes accompanying. Then she speaks, and I catch the word "charitable." Sometimes the money can be heard that is thrown from windows. Upon the street, beggars are very rarely seen, except the blind, and in a court-yard where I afterwards live, beggars are not allowed until after the proprietor has gone away in the summer. To return to the lone lady upon the former court-yard-what can she want with three carriages and three horses and five waiting-men, and how many women? How do such people pass their time? She is said to be sixty. The concierge tells me that the master and the coachman of the other carriage-house have gone to be soldiers for fifteen days in the territorial army; they have gone to make the exercise or to train. The master is a young man; he does not live on our court-yard, he rents this remise. If there should be a war, he and his man will have to go.

At a branch of a well-known American house, the cashier tells me that they are not sufficiently advanced here to have bank-books, but they give check-books. He says that in France separate receipts are given for all deposits, which is much more troublesome to the clerk than to have a bank-book in which to enter the deposit. Here in Paris, when checks are presented at a bank; they are always paid in cash, but in America and England bankers can pay with checks on other banks where they keep deposits, which is a great deal safer and more convenient. I receive at the bank a note of five hundred francs, which I feel inclined to ridicule for its blue impression on such common-looking white paper. The gold coins here are

elegant, and the silver are well enough, but the big copper pieces of two sous are as ugly as the English penny.

I sit down with my note-book at a little table before a restaurant and ask a young man for water and a small glass of wine. He replies that they do not sell less than a bottle. Then I ask for ice-water.

"With sugar?" he inquires.

'No; only ice-water.”

"One does not ask for water," he replies.

"Can I not have ice-water if I pay for it?" but he answers not. Stupid that I am! could I not have taken the sugar?

I am often in the vicinity of the Madeleine church. The sculpture at the top, in what I may call one of the gable-ends, represents the passage,-" Then shall the King say to those on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father: and to those on his left, Depart from me, ye cursed." Over the church-door is conspicuously visible the legend, "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity." While writing this about the church, I occupy a chair on the Place Madeleine, or open space near the great church, and a woman comes up, whom I understand to say, "One sou for the chair;" but when I hand it, she says, "Ten centimes." When I give the two sous, she hands me a bit of paper, upon which I read, "Seats of the Promenades of Paris, Chair Of, 10 c." If I had taken a seat upon the bench near by, there would have been no charge.

CHAPTER III.

Wednesday, May 1st.-The Exposition opens to-day. I see cavalry in a street near the Boulevard des Capucines, and one person thinks that the prince of Italy is there. Another, who seems to be a merchant in the neighborhood, says, "It is probably the escort of a prince," as if this is a matter in which he has no great interest. This evening, Mr. C., the gentleman who has before been mentioned, receives his friends, and I go to his house, and also see the illumination. Little colored lanterns with candles inside make no great show, but the restaurants and the churches illuminated with gas are much finer. When we leave our friend's house, the young Swiss gentleman, before mentioned, kindly takes me to see the Place de la Concorde, the Hippodrome, and the residence of Marshal MacMahon, which are brilliantly illuminated. There are so many people upon the street, that I ask how long this will be kept up, and the young man thinks until two or three o'clock.

At our friend's house, in the evening, our names are announced as we enter, but there is no other introduction. Before eleven tea is handed round with sugar, but no milk; also, little sweet biscuits. Madame S. serves, and pours from a bottle into some of the cups brandy or other spirits. One present hands me a circular, showing that his wife and daughter keep a Protestant boarding-school. He tells me that co-education of the sexes is forbidden by law. Our

friend has illuminated his five windows upon the street, and 'way down upon another floor some other windows are lighted by lanterns, but all the rest of the large building is dark. I learn that the holding of the Exposition is considered a victory for the republicans, as it shows what the nation can accomplish under republican rule, after all their reverses. I hear a statement that those who do not illuminate are Bonapartists and clericals. A literary man present becomes very animated in conversation. I endeavor to explain the views of certain persons, and quote the text, "There is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth them understanding;" but the literary gentleman does not seem to like the expression "the Almighty," but to prefer "natural laws."

Thursday, May 2d.-In a mourning-store near the Madeleine is a picture of a nun, with the inscription, "Mourning is a worship for the nun." At the Madeleine they are taking down immense dark hangings within and without the church. I venture to ask the meaning of a large D which, in white, is upon them in several places. "It is for the name of the deceased." "Is it for an eccle

siastic or a private person ?" I ask. "No, madame, it is a military man." These hangings I understand are a part of the funeral pomps of Paris, belonging to the city. Within the church is a large man, whom I imagine to be from the provinces, come to see Paris and the Exposition. As he is about to leave, he bends a knee before one of the statues. I see a box to receive offerings for the poor, who are assisted by Mr. the Curé; Mr. the Curé, being head-priest of the church and his assistants vicars. I also see a large notice, "Offerings for St. Peter's pence.'

After leaving the Madeleine, as I walk the street, I observe at a height upon a large building a long sign, "Great Lying-in House, under the direction of Madame Consultations from one to five." It is very strange to me to see such a sign so conspicuous, and I feel as if there is something rotten in the state. But of these houses I shall say more hereafter. I call to-day to present my letter of introduction to another of the three gentlemen to whom it is addressed; but I do not find him at liberty to offer me such attentions as I have received from Mr. C. (or Carpentier, as I will call him who entertained me in his own house). However, he gives me another letter addressed to a distinguished person, a professor, and a writer in one of the journals. Before leaving to present this, I speak of the recent illumination and of the affair being kept up very late, but this gentleman says that the restaurants have to be closed at midnight. He adds that it has been desired that they should be kept open later during the Exposition, but he thinks that this would not be favorable to public morals. "You observe," he adds, "the condition of our streets now?" But on this point I cannot decide.

I seek the residence of the distinguished gentleman to whom my new letter is addressed, and am so fortunate as to find him at home and kindly inclined to converse. I tell him what objects I desire to observe in this great city, and among them, mention the drainage. He tells me to write upon the subject to Mr. Prefect of Police, and he suggests this form, "I have come from America to study the administration of the city of Paris, and especially the construction of the sewers. I beg you, then, to grant me permission to visit them. Be pleased, Mr. Prefect, to receive the assurance of my most distinguished considera

tion."

He tells me that a woman must not say to a man,