black, with his coat buttoned up to the chin, entered the saloon, and
took a seat at the table hard by. My friend in a low whisper informed me
that this person was one of the French refugees. He was apparently not
more than thirty years of age, and exceedingly good looking--his person
being slight, his feet and hands very small and well shaped, especially
his hands, which were covered with kid gloves, so tightly drawn on, that
the points of the finger nails were visible through them. His face was
mild and almost womanly in its beauty, his eyes soft and full, his brow
open and ample, his features well defined, and approaching to the ideal
Greek in contour; the lines about his mouth were exquisitely sweet, and
yet resolute in expression; his hair was short--his having no mustaches
gave him nothing of the look of a Frenchman; and I was not a little
surprised when informed that the person before me was Louis Blanc. I
could scarcely be persuaded to believe that one so small, so child-like
in stature, had taken a prominent part in the Revolution of 1848. He
held in his hand a copy of _La Presse_, and as soon as he was seated,
opened it and began to devour its contents. The gentleman with whom I
was dining was not acquainted with him, but at the close of our dinner
he procured me an introduction through another gentleman.

As we were returning to our lodgings, we saw in Exeter Street, Strand,
one of those exhibitions that can be seen in almost any of the streets
in the suburbs of the Metropolis, but which is something of a novelty to
those from the other side of the Atlantic. This was an exhibition of
"Punch and Judy." Everything was in full operation when we reached the
spot. A puppet appeared eight or ten inches from the waist upwards, with
an enormous face, huge nose, mouth widely grinning, projecting chin,
cheeks covered with grog blossoms, a large protuberance on his back,
another on his chest; yet with these deformities he appeared uncommonly
happy. This was Mr. Punch. He held in his right hand a tremendous
bludgeon, with which he amused himself by rapping on the head every one
who came within his reach. This exhibition seems very absurd, yet not
less than one hundred were present--children, boys, old men, and even
gentlemen and ladies, were standing by, and occasionally greeting the
performer with the smile of approbation. Mr. Punch, however, was not to
have it all his own way, for another and better sort of Punch-like
e