e.

* * * * *

[Illustration: JOURNALISM IN FRANCE. JOURNALISM IN ENGLAND. (A
Contrast.)]

* * * * *

HAD HE SUCCEEDED!

(_A POSSIBLE PAGE IN FRENCH HISTORY THAT PROBABLY WILL NEVER BE
WRITTEN._)

The General-President had been established at the Elysee for
some three months, when his _aides-de-camp_ found their labours
considerably increased. At all hours of the day and night they were
called up to receive persons who desired an interview with their chief
and master. As they had received strict orders from His Highness
never to appear in anything but full uniform (cloth of gold tunics,
silver-tissue trousers, and belts and epaulettes of diamonds) they
spent most of their time in changing their costume.

"I am here to see anyone and everyone," said His Highness; "but I look
to you, Gentlemen of the Ring, I should say Household, to see that I
am disturbed by only those who have the right of _entree_. And now,
_houp-la!_ You can go."

Thus dismissed, the unfortunate _aides-de-camp_ could but bow,
and retire in silence. But, though they gave no utterance to their
thoughts, their reflections were of a painful character. They felt
what with five reviews a day, to say nothing of what might be termed
scenes in the circle (attendances at the Bois, dances at the Hotel de
Ville, and the like), their entire exhaustion was only a question of
weeks, or even days.

One morning the General-President, weary of interviews, was about to
retire into his _salle-a-manger_, there to discuss the twenty-five
courses of his simple _dejeuner a la fourchette_, when he was stopped
by a person in a garb more remarkable for its eccentricity than its
richness. This person wore a coat with tails a yard long, enormous
boots, a battered hat, and a red wig. A close observer would have
doubted whether his nose was real or artificial. The strangely-garbed
intruder bowed grotesquely.

"What do you want with me?" asked the General-President, sharply. "Do
you not know I am busy?"

"Not too busy to see me," retorted the unwelcome guest, striking up a
lively tune upon a banjo which he had concealed about his person while
passing the Palace Guard, but which he now produced. "I pray you step
with me a measure."

Thus courteously invited, His Highness could but comply, and for some
ten minutes host and guest indulged in a breakdown.

"And now, what do you want with me?" asked the Gene