afternoon. Riding home in the omnibus, I meet a nicelooking colored woman, neatly dressed and very ladylike in her behavior; she is companion or attendant of a boy of about fifteen, dressed in a Lycée uniform. She is from South America, and cannot speak English. The lad is eating his bread and meat in the omnibus, as if he had been obliged to hurry away from school. He is quite open and pleasant, and tells me that he is from Venezuela, but he has not a Spanish look, having light eyes. His talk is very hard for me to understand, perhaps from the Spanish accent; he may be the son of some person of wealth or importance, who has brought him or sent him to be taught in Paris. Now I am not so much surprised that people should ask me from what part of America I come. At the Exposition I see a guard of the section of South America, bearing upon his cap the words Latin America, Amérique Latine. And this reminds me that while in Paris I heard Mr. Carpentier speak of a literary society for the Latin races only. But this Mr. Carpentier does not approve; he wishes to unite Europe.

This evening, May 11th, I attend a lecture,—they call it a confèrence. The hall is a pretty one, the ceiling not very high, but it and the walls are ornamented somewhat like our theatres. It looks as if lighted with short candles, but when the gas is turned up I perceive that they are jets. At this conference several ladies sit upon the platform; but I believe this is quite unusual in Paris. I am introduced to Monsieur and Madame G. He is not a large man, but he is a great Phalansterian, or Fourierite, and addresses me upon the subject before the lecture begins. I afterwards hear that Mr. and Mrs. G. are rentiers,—they live on the interest of their money; that they are very active in good works or in progress, and that they are united; wherever

you see Madame G. you always see Mr. G. At the lecture we applaud, men and women. Occasionally there is spoken approval, "Well !" "Very well!" "Bravo!" The lecturer is a very gentlemanly man; he has been a professor, but has had trouble on account of certain sentiments published in a book; he has lost his place, or has been removed. He speaks of America, of our country, and of emulating our example, and thinks they may yet excel us. After the lecture I shake hands with him, and in the antechamber tell him that I do not think they will excel us; that there are two points which we regard as of the highest importance, namely, the independence of church and state, and the entire liberty of the press. The slender, gentlemanly Frenchman answers not.

When we get home and talk upon this subject, Victor says, "Before we surpass America, some water will run under the bridge," which makes me laugh, for of course I am pleased.

One of the gentlemen whom I met at the lecture once lived in Algeria, and now exhibits Algerine cotton at the Exposition. I also heard Algiers mentioned at the Luxembourg gardens. A young lady spoke to me, and told me that she is the daughter of the Lutheran minister at whose home I sought board. She has five brothers, and three of them are pastors (the title here for Protestant ministers), and one of these is in Algeria. So this AfricanFrench colony must be of importance in their eyes.

Sunday, May 12th.-It has been suggested that we should go to the country this afternoon, but Victor is fatigued and occupied. Last evening he had to go early to the hall, and make preparations for the lecture. After the

meeting I missed him, and came back in an omnibus; but he and his wife walked home, in spite of his lameness, because the flags which he brought from the hall could not be taken into the omnibus. This morning, without eating breakfast, he is off early, to serve an old and valued friend, by superintending the bottling of wine. After eleven, when he returns, he says that he is quite exhausted.

In conversation, I remark that the lecturer last evening did not drink his wine. Before him there had been a decanter, a bottle of water, and some nice white sugar. They tell me that it was not wine, and Victor adds, "Rum." "Oh!” said I, adding something more. "That is good," said Victor; "you make very good rum in America." After the twelve o'clock breakfast he and I have a very long conversation, from which I learn that the Christian Brothers who teach are not always obliged to submit to an examination, as other teachers are. This subject is hard to investigate, but I finally understand that a letter from a superior sometimes qualifies a monk or nun to teach without passing the examination to which all others in France must, by law, submit before teaching either a public or private school. While on these subjects, I will add that a person in authority has told me that the reason that the public is not allowed to visit public schools, is political differences. "The law dates from 1850," says my informant, "from the Empire. The Republic will change it."

Victor is very much occupied to-day, for in the afternoon he goes to seek board for a friend. Nevertheless, we still have leisure to talk. He speaks with great warmth on the morals of the clergy; says that they are guilty of filthiness, the proceedings of the courts show it; that he was not married by a priest, and that none shall baptize any child of his. He and his wife unite in the opinion

that celibacy produces death at an early age, say about thirty; or loss of mental power at about fifty. "Those people," he adds, "began my education, and at the age of twelve years I was very pious, so that when my mother came to see me and gave me my weekly pence, instead of buying barley-sugar, apples, and cakes, I gave the money to the priests, the curés; and Mr. Carpentier was more fanatical than I he continued to practise until he was eighteen" (to practise the rites of religion).

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"But why do you not join the Protestants?" I inquire. Carelessly he replies, "It is not worth while; I do not need the religion of the Protestants in order to live or do good. I like the Protestants better than the Catholics, but that is no reason for my joining them."

He is told about our different sects, and how, if the great evangelical sects, being united, could exterminate the Catholics, Unitarians, and others, they would then begin to quarrel among themselves.

"That is why," he answers, "I would not care to have any religion."

"No," says one, in reply, "you must not be discouraged from seeking the truth because other men love falsehood." "But I love truth," he answers.

"But, if you could prove that people who hold your sentiments are really good people

"Look at Mr. and Mrs. C. She gave her money, although she was not rich, to establish schools for girls, so that if they should marry and their husbands should abandon them, they would be able to carry on business for themselves. She was a freethinker."

Monday, May 13th.-Victor gives their washing every

Monday to a man who comes from the country, and who brings back at the same time that of the previous week. This morning he brings me a large quantity of washed and ironed clothes, and the bill is something of a curiosity. Thus eleven handkerchiefs, eleven sous; nine pairs of cuffs, eighteen sous; and six collars, six sous. Almost invariably these are very well starched. Altogether there are forty-three pieces, and the whole charge is about eighty cents. I cannot say that I think the people very well paid, but while in Paris I hear of a gentleman who was on a commission from France to our Exhibition, who was charged one dollar for doing up a shirt!

Upon my bed are long linen sheets. Madame tells me that for one person they only change the sheets once a month. One morning, when I am taking my coffee with milk, she puts a little into hers, saying that she is something of an epicure, a little gourmande. Milk is about seven sous the litre (nearly the same as a quart), and ordinary wine is about thirteen sous, yet I understand Victor to say that he and his wife drink three litres of wine a day. Then why should she be called an epicure if she puts milk into coffee? I am told that the cheapest tea is six francs the French pound (which is one-tenth heavier than ours). I have said that the only question asked me by the customhouse officer was whether I had tea. The cheapest coffee is three francs, or, unbrowned, two and a half. Their taxes, we may remember, are heavier since the war. Victor says that everything is taxed but perfumes, and that they ought to be.

To-day I go to Versailles, about thirteen miles from Paris. Here the Assembly or Legislature still meets, both the House of Deputies and the Senate, though the legislative