himself, as strange
to each other as they were to their own parents, to pass those famous
mois de nourrice which form so important and momentous a period in the
lives of most French people. Madame Panpan was however in no way
responsible for this state of things; the system was there, not only
recognised, but encouraged; become indeed a part of the social habits of
the people, and it was no wonder if her poverty should have driven her to
so popular and ready a means of meeting a great difficulty. How she
extricated herself from this dilemma, it is not necessary to state;
suffice it to say, that a few weeks saw cette petite bete Henri, happily
domiciled in the Place Valois; and, if not overburdened with apparel, at
least released from the terrible debt of six and thirty francs, and six
pounds of lump-sugar.

It naturally happened, that on the pleasant Sunday afternoons, when we
had disposed of our small, but often sumptuous dinner; perhaps a gigot de
mouton with a clove of garlic in the knuckle; a fricassee de lapins with
onions, or a fricandeau, Panpan himself would tell me part of his
history; and in the course of our salad; of our little dessert of fresh
fruit, or currant jelly; or perhaps, stimulated by the tiniest glass of
brandy, would grow warm in the recital of his early experiences, and the
unhappy chance which had brought him into his present condition.

"Ah, Monsieur!" he said one day, "little would you think, to see me
cribbed up in this miserable bed, that I had been a soldier, or that the
happiest days of my life had been passed in the woods of Fontainebleau,
following the chase in the retinue of King Charles the Tenth of France.
I was a wild young fellow in my boyhood; and, when at the age of eighteen
I drew for the conscription and found it was my fate to serve, I believe
I never was so happy in my life. I entered the cavalry; and, in spite of
the heavy duties and strict discipline, it was a glorious time. It makes
me mad, Monsieur, when I think of the happy days I have spent on the
road, in barracks, and in snug country quarters, where there was cider or
wine for the asking; to find myself in a solitary corner of great,
thoughtless Paris, sick and helpless. It would be something to die out
in the open fields like a worn-out horse, or to be shot like a wounded
one. But this is terrible!--and I am but thirty-eight."

We comforted him in the best way we could with sage axioms of antique
date, or mor