the papers, but secretly, in an undertone
and with a hushed voice.

I think that the French papers ought to take the prize in the art
of keeping a secret. One could never imagine that a whole nation
could hold its tongue so completely! There appeared no sensational
articles, no details, and no comments on the President of the
French Republic's departure from this world. Everything in the way
of details was kept secret by the officials. In our country, and,
in fact, in every other country, such discretion would have been
impossible; the news in all its details would have been hawked
about the streets in half an hour. Here was simply the news that
Felix Faure had died.

A week later the President's funeral took place at Notre Dame.
Seats were reserved for the _Corps Diplomatique_ by the side of
the immense catafalque which stood in the center of the cathedral.
Huge torches were burning around it. After every one was seated,
in came the four officers sent by the German Emperor. Four giants!
The observed of all observers! Their presence did not pass
unnoticed, as you may imagine. They seemed more as if they were at
a parade than at a funeral. The music was splendid; The famous
organist Guilmant was at the organ, and did "his best." I believe
Notre Dame never heard finer organ-playing. I never did.

The streets were full of troops; the large open square in front of
the cathedral was lined with a double row of soldiers. The
diplomats followed on foot in the procession from Notre Dame to
Pere la Chaise, traversing the whole of Paris.

PARIS, _1899_.

My dear Sister,--You may think what a joy it is to me to have my
dear friend Mrs. Bigelow Lawrence staying with me here. Every day
we go to some museums and do a little sight-seeing. She is
interested in everything.

The new President (Loubet) gave us for one night the Presidential
_loge_ at the Grand Opera, and I cannot tell you how delighted we
were to hear Wagner's "Meistersinger" given in French, and
marvelously executed. All the best singers took part. The
orchestra was magnificent beyond words. The artists played with a
delicacy and a _culte_ not even surpassed at Bayreuth. In the
_entr'actes_ we reviewed--seated in the luxurious, spacious _loge_
where the huge sofas and the _fauteuils_ offered their hospitable
arms--our impressions, which were ultra-enthusiastic. Near us was
Madame Cosima Wagner, whom one of our party went to see. She
expressed the greatest ple