e campaigns amidst
snows and burning sands, delighting to turn an end of the jumping rope
or to trot a long-robed heiress on, perhaps, the only knee they have
left.

[Illustration: THE STAFF OF LIFE.]

Parisians are very fond of uniforms, and so begin to employ them in the
dress of citizens as soon as they make their entry into the world, even
before they are registered at the mayor's office; for the caps and
cradles of a boy (or _citoyen_) are decorated with blue ribbons, and
the girl (or _citoyenne_) with pink.

Every boys' or girls' school of any pretension has a distinctive mark
in the dress, and so has each employment or trade,--the butcher's boy,
always bareheaded, with a large basket and white apron; the grocer's
apprentice, with calico over-sleeves and blue apron; and the
pastry-cook's boy, dressed in white with white linen cap, who despises
and ridicules the well-blacked chimney-sweep, keeping the while at a
respectful distance. And we must not forget the beggars, with their
carefully studied costumes of rags, or the little Italians, born in
Paris, but wearing their so-called native costume, which has been cut
and made within the city walls.

The little ones of the outskirts of the city are generally independent
and self-reliant youngsters, and sometimes, before they are quite
steady on their feet, we meet them already doing the family errands,
trudging along, hugging a loaf of bread taller than themselves. But the
rosy plumpness of the fields is wanting; for children are like
chameleons, and partake of the color of the locality they inhabit, so
these poor little ones are toned down by the smoke and dust of the
workshops. Their play-ground is under the dusty, dingy trees of the
wide avenues; but they have the same games of romps their peasant
mothers brought from their country homes, and above the noise of the
passing vehicles we often hear their voices as they dance round in a
circle, and sing verses of some old provincial song.

[Illustration: THE VETERAN AND HIS CHARGE.]

The delightful hours spent in boyhood, going to and from school, are
unknown in the gay French capital to children of well-to-do parents.
Instead of starting early and lingering on the way, they watch from the
window until a black one-horse omnibus arrives, when a sub-master takes
charge of the pupil, and the omnibus goes from house to house,
collecting all the scholars, who are brought home in the same manner,
the sub-master sittin