er once brown hair inside, and we assemble and eat
American goodies made in an ultra-superior manner by her _chef_.

Our occupations or amusements depend very much upon whom we are
with. A whole army of doctors has just descended on us, and we are
doing the medical side of Paris. One day we went to see Dr. Doyen,
the celebrated cutter-up of men. He said that operations other
doctors spent an hour over _he_ did in ten minutes. It sounds a
little boastful, but after what I saw I am sure that it is true.
He has a very large hospital where he preaches and practises and
gives cinematographic representations of his most famous
operations. It was very interesting, because at the same time that
we were looking at him in the pictures he was sitting behind us
explaining things. Strange to say that one or two of the doctors
with us fainted away. The ladies did not faint, neither did they
look on. The operation which took the most time was the cutting
apart of the little Indian twins, Radica and Dodica. This last one
(poor little sickly thing) was dying of tuberculosis, and the
question was whether the well one should be separated or die with
her sister. While this was going on the little survivor came to
the door and begged to be let in (she was tired of running up and
down the corridor); therefore we knew that the operation had
succeeded, which helped to make it less painful to witness.

We visited, in company with these same doctors, the Pasteur
Institute, young M. Pasteur accompanying us. We began at the rooms
where they examined hydrophobia in all its developments. Persons
who have been bitten by any animal are kept under observation, and
they have to go to the Institute forty times before they are
either cured or beyond suspicion. There are two large rooms
adjoining each other, one for the patients and the other for the
doctors. Every morning the unhappy men and women are received and
cared for.

_May 15, 1898_.

My dear L.,--We have just come home from bidding our Crown Prince
and Princess good-by at the station.

On Thursday Madame Faure and her daughter came to see me. On
bidding them adieu I said I hoped the President had not forgotten
the photograph of himself which he had promised me. Madame Faure
answered, "_Vous l'aurez ce soir meme, chere Madame_." That very
evening while we were dining with Count and Countess Cornet we
heard that Felix Faure had suddenly died. To-day we learned how he
had died. Not through