e of its population, watching the varied
hues and complexions of its strange inhabitants, displaying, as they do,
in feature, air, and gesture, so much more of character and purpose than
other people, so also do I feel that there is something indescribably
miserable in being alone, unknown, and unnoticed in that vast throng,
destitute of means for the present, and devoid of hope for the future.

Some were bent on business, some on pleasure; some were evidently
bent on killing time till the hour of more agreeable occupation should
arrive; some were loitering along, gazing at the prints in shop-windows,
or half listlessly stopping to read at book-stalls. There was not only
every condition of mankind, from wealth to mendicancy, but every frame
of mind, from enjoyment to utter ennui, and yet I thought I could not
hit upon any one individual who looked as forlorn and cast-away as
myself; however, there were many who passed me that day who would
gladly have changed fortune with me, but it would have been difficult to
persuade me of the fact in the mood I then was.

At the time I speak of, there was a species of cheap ordinary held in
the open air on the quay, where people of the humblest condition used to
dine. I need scarcely describe the fare--the reader may conceive what it
was, which, wine included, cost only four sous. A rude table without a
cloth, some wooden platters, and an iron rail to which the knives and
forks were chained, formed the 'equipage,' the cookery bearing a due
relation to the elegance of these accessories. As for the company, if
not polite, it was certainly picturesque--consisting of labourers of the
lowest class, the sweepers of crossings, hackney-cabmen out of employ,
that poorest of the poor who try to earn a livelihood by dragging the
Seine for lost articles, and finally, the motley race of idlers who
vacillate between beggary and ballad-singing, with now and then a dash
at highway robbery for a 'distraction'; a class, be it said without
paradox, which in Paris includes a considerable number of tolerably
honest folk.

The moment was the eventful one in which France was about once more
to become a monarchy, and as may be inferred from the character of the
people, it was a time of high excitement and enthusiasm. The nation,
even in its humblest citizen, seemed to feel some of the reflected glory
that glanced from the great achievements of Bonaparte, and his elevation
was little other than a grand ma