with pump, pipes, and wagon, and take out the contents. Then the vault must be left open until the inspector comes to see whether repairs are wanted. This refuse is taken to the environs and made into poudrette, and those who make it and those who sell it, she says, become rich.

In our dining-room is a porcelain stove; yet not in the room, for not much more is seen than the front covered with white porcelain with brass bands. Mrs. L. says that they burn coke in it, and adds, "That is a gulf! It consumes! it consumes! And then we must watch it every quarterhour for fear it goes out. It is very costly in winter, as regards light and heat."

Speaking of soldiers, Victor gives me the following numbers: There are four hundred and fifty thousand soldiers in France (about one hundred thousand of them in Paris and its environs); also ten thousand sergents de ville, who receive five francs a day; ten thousand municipal or republican guards, who receive four francs a day,-old soldiers on a pension for having served many years in the army. Then, in France there are twenty-five thousand of the gendarmerie, police officers in the country and in small towns. These receive a pension after twenty-five years' service.* I see so many young soldiers in the flower of their age,-for they begin to serve at twenty-one,—that I ask Victor what they do. "They lounge," he answers; "ils flanent, and practise their exercise. When their time is out, they are not willing to busy themselves with anything, they become so

By the proposed budget for 1879, the effective strength of the whole French army, including the gendarmerie and Garde Républicaine, is 496,442 men and 124,279 horses-Statesman's Year Book, McMillan & Co.

lazy." While in barracks the soldier does not prepare his food; this is done by the cantinier. Those who do not know how to read and write are taught; but they rise early, and must have time for other studies, did France desire to teach them, or did they desire to learn. Mrs. Leblanc once said that military life brutalizes a man: "You see a man who has learned a trade, and who is a good workman, but when he becomes a soldier he gets a taste for idleness, and then he is good for nothing. Idleness, we say, is the mother of all the vices. The women who lead a bad life, the cause of it in three-quarters of the cases is idleness; the desire for luxury and idleness is the cause of their leading that base life."

Soon after my arrival at Paris I spoke to a gentleman of its being a heavy burden upon the workingmen to support so many soldiers. The gentleman replied that their heaviest burden is the five years' military service. Once, upon the street, I ask a question of a woman carrying something, and then for a few moments I walk on with her. We meet a man in uniform, and I tell her that in my country we have not many soldiers; in my great country, so much larger than France, there are not so many soldiers as are now in Paris. She answers that there are small towns in France that have not the advantages of Paris. "Do you call that an advantage," I ask, "that is costly?" Apparently she is of the same mind as a young countrywoman of mine here, who said, "I like a military government."*

For myself, I have sympathized with the young soldiers who come up from a life of rural toil to this idleness in barracks. If France were truly a paternal government, what would she do for them? Could she not instruct them until no Prussian soldier could surpass them? Could not

* The army of the United States numbers 25,000 men.

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

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.

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 situation.

CHAPTER V.

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