. We were all much amused by
the quaintness of this man's conduct, although I am confident he had no
intention of exciting unbecoming sensations, for in saving this image,
he had exposed his life.

From Notre Dame, we went to the Abbaye aux Hommes, built by William the
Conqueror. It is a large lofty plain pile of building. The spires are
well proportioned, and very high. The pillars in the choir are, in my
humble opinion, too massy. Preparations were here making for the
celebration of the great festival called the Feast of God. We presented
to one of the priests, who, in the sachristy, was adorning the cradle of
our Saviour's image with flowers, some very fine moss roses, which in
France are very rare, which he received with great politeness. This
festival before the revolution was always superbly celebrated. It was
then renewed for the first time since the proscription of religion,
during which, all the costly habits of the priests, and rich vessels
used in the ceremonies of the church have been stolen, sold, or melted
down. Near the altar, which has been shattered by the axe of the
revolution, is the vault of the norman conqueror.

Upon our return to our hotel, we saw a considerable crowd assembled near
the bridge leading to de la Cour. Upon inquiring into the cause of this
assemblage, we found it was owing to a curious rencounter between two
blind beggars, who, in total darkness, had been waging an uncertain
battle for near six minutes. It appeared that one of them had for
several months, enjoyed quiet possession of the bridge, which happened
to be a great thoroughfare, and had during that time, by an undisputed
display of his calamity, contrived to pick up a comfortable recompense
for it; that within a few days preceding this novel fracas, another
mendicant, who had equal claims to compassion, allured by the repute of
his success, had deserted a less frequented part of the city, and had
presented himself at the other corner of the same bridge, where by a
more masterly selection of moving phrases, he soon not only divided, but
monopolized the eleemosynary revenues of this post of wretchedness. The
original possessor naturally grew jealous. Even beggars "can bear no
brother near the throne." Inflamed with jealousy, he silently moved
towards his rival, by the sound of whose voice, which was then sending
forth some of its most affecting, and purse-drawing strains, he was
enabled to determine whether his arm was within