separation of bodies, or of bodies and goods. Even the party who sues and obtains this separation cannot marry, and I am told that such half-divorced persons often form illegitimate connections. If I mistake not, the Code Napoléon allowed divorce on the continued, mutual request of the parties; perhaps it was this provision which caused the abrogation of the whole law. But while they have adopted the rule of the church upon divorce, it seems somewhat strange that a marriage in church is not a lawful one, the only legal marriage being the civil one, in the mayor's office.

This evening, at Mr. Carpentier's, I am rebuked by an elderly gentleman, a member of the municipal council. I make the rash suggestion that there was no marriage during the time of their first revolution. The municipal counsellor rejoins, "Yes there was, the civil marriage. What do you take us for, cats and dogs?"

There are persons in France who desire to establish a divorce law like ours. As regards the legal separation, I find it noteworthy that a woman can obtain it if her. husband strikes her.

This evening there is present a very pretty lady from the provinces, besides several men. Something brings up the subject, and she inquires whether there is not a baby at the house of a certain friend. Some one replies, "Not yet; there is going to be." Whereupon I laugh and tell them that we do not talk about such things until—“Till when?" "Until they are born. We women talk on these subjects." I might have said we do not in mixed companies.

I tell them this evening of one of my friends at home

who greatly fears Catholicism, and who thinks that on account of it the French cannot succeed in establishing a republican government. Whereupon a gentleman says that this cannot prevent; adding that there are Catholic cantons in Switzerland that have been republican since the time of William Tell.

May 16th.-At the Exposition I observe the sugar in the Russian department. It will be remembered what a quantity of beautiful sugar the Russians exhibited at Philadelphia. Two men whom I see to-day give me a piece of the Russian, which is from beets, and from them I obtain information also. Between French and German we manage to communicate ideas, and by turning their puts into kilogrammes and thence into our pounds, and their roubles into francs and cents or dollars, I am able to eliminate the statement that they could afford to furnish the French with the best sugar of Russia at about eight cents the pound, if the French would let them. Victor is giving about fourteen.

I meet at the Exposition with a French acquaintance, who was in our own country several years on business. He is from a central part of France, and I have been planning to obtain through him board at a farm-house. He says that board would be very low, but he thinks that I shall not be satisfied with it, adding that I shall find no carpet upon the floor. But I tell him I shall not care about the carpet.

Victor gives me the following figures. That he makes the comparison is of interest, even if the figures be not strictly correct. He says that the expenditure of the United States in 1876 was, for public instruction, $125,

000,000, and for warlike purposes, $12,000,000.

That

of France he gives at only $8,400,000 for public instruction, and $140,000,000 for the army.

He tells me that the new opera-house at Paris, or National Academy of Music, was built by the state at an expense of 63,000,000 of francs, or about 12,000,000 of dollars, and he complains that although his money helped to build it he cannot afford to enter it; but I understand him to mean at a representation. In looking at this great building it seems to me glaring and inharmonious with its gilded figures and marble of different colors. It was begun during the Empire in 1868, and finished in 1875.*

My American friend lives up two flights of stairs, on what is generally the handsomest floor of the house. She has a vestibule or antechamber; a parlor, fourteen feet by eighteen; a dining-room; two good-sized sleeping-rooms, and two smaller rooms; two rooms on the sixth, or up six flights of stairs; a kitchen, and two cellar-rooms. She has no bath, and no gas except in the vestibule and kitchen. She has taken the rooms unfurnished on a lease for three years. Besides her rent, she pays the owner the door and window tax, and her share of the expense of the entry and stairs-carpet. She also pays the city of Paris a tax on residence and furniture, the whole amounting to about $760 yearly. On the same floor is a suite of rooms somewhat larger, and looking upon a more fashionable street, which rent for nearly twice as much as my friend pays.

* I feel inclined, in turning French money into our own, to make the calculation on the basis of nineteen cents to the franc, or, perhaps, of five francs to the dollar, and to abandon the awkwardness of the repeated expression, about ten dollars, and so on.

May 17th.—The letter of introduction which I brought from Mr. L., in Philadelphia, is addressed to three gentlemen, to two of whom I presented it some time ago, and to-day I breakfast with the third. The time mentioned in the note of invitation was 11.15, but Victor thinks that I must get there sooner, lest it should look as if I came for my breakfast! I find the gentleman's house very pleasantly situated beyond one of the octroi gates, but in a a district closely built. Reaching the street and number, I find a wall, within which is a large enclosure, for here the gentleman has about two and a half acres ; and, besides his own dwelling, there are houses upon the ground, in which live married daughters. Is it not quite patriarchal for the suburbs of Paris?

I find that I am before time, for one of the daughters comes in to receive me, her manners and dress being simple and unpretending. I will call my host Mr. Pierre. Madame comes in ere long, in a buff dress trimmed with brown. She speaks English very well, and Mr. Pierre can also speak our tongue. They were once Catholics, but are now interested in another church or society. There are busts, in the house, of Mr. Pierre's father, who held an office of some importance under the government,—a life-office. He wears-or the bust does-a wide embroidered cravat, and he looks like an important person. Before breakfast I have some conversation with a nice-looking young gentleman, one of the sons-in-law. I speak of visiting one of the prisons of Paris, but I understand that he thinks I shall have difficulty in obtaining permission, for there was a prisoner who did himself some injury after a stranger came in, saying that he was not a wild beast to be stared at; and then the prison for women, St. Lazare, is so old that they would be ashamed of it. He wants me to visit a peniten

tiary colony in another department, Indre-et-Loire, but this will not suit me. Madame Pierre thinks that if I get a line from our American minister, I shall be more likely to succeed.

It is not rare in our own country to have recourse to the photographic album when strangers visit us, and madame shows me hers, with pictures of her four eldest daughters when young girls. They are in simple dresses, dark and plainly made, with white collars, and dark sashes tied behind. I tell her that if it were not for the sashes they might pass for Quaker girls. Mr. and Mrs. P. have a larger family than most Parisians; there were twelve children, of whom nine are living. Madame Pierre has also photographs of several of my friends in America, members of a society in which Mr. P. is interested.

My invitation was to a breakfast en famille,—an unceremonious one; and I do not remember that any servant was in the room during meal-time, all the dishes being upon the table at the beginning. The parents, the four sons, with two daughters, the Italian, German, and English governesses, with two or more guests, fill a good-sized table. The oldest son, who is getting a beard, does not look very well, and as the father comes into the room he kisses this son, which makes me fear that there is something the matter; but madame explains that he is preparing for his examination. The youngest child is a girl, who, as she goes to her place, stops beside me for me to kiss her. As I now prepare this volume in my own country, I recall that there was something animating in that dining-room upon the ground-floor, looking out upon the pleasant enclosure. I have been censured for speaking so much about eating; but simple details of every-day life help to relieve the mind, which might become fatigued if I spoke of