to come without the least difficulty, and his jestures,
though somewhat violent, were evidently studied; and the applause with
which he was greeted by the English delegation, showed that he was a man
of no little distinction among them. His speech was one continuous flow
of rapid, fervid eloquence, that seemed to fire every heart; and
although I disliked his style, I was prepossessed in his favour. This
was Henry Vincent, and his speech was in favour of disarmament.

Mr. Vincent was followed by M. Emile de Girardin, the editor of _La
Presse_, in one of the most eloquent speeches that I ever heard; and his
exclamation of "Soldiers of Peace," drew thunders of applause from his
own countrymen. M. Girardin is not only the leader of the French press,
but is a writer on politics of great distinction, and a leader of no
inconsiderable party in the National Assembly; although still a young
man, apparently not more than thirty-eight or forty years of age.

After a speech from Mr. Ewart, M.P., in French, and another from Mr.
Cobden in the same language, the Convention was brought to a close for
the day. I spent the morning yesterday, in visiting some of the lions of
the French capital, among which was the Louvre. The French Government
having kindly ordered, that the members of the Peace Congress should be
admitted free, and without ticket, to all the public works, I had
nothing to do but present my card of membership, and was immediately
admitted.

The first room I entered, was nearly a quarter of a mile in length; is
known as the "Long Gallery," and contains some of the finest paintings
in the world. On entering this superb palace, my first impression was,
that all Christendom had been robbed, that the Louvre might make a
splendid appearance. This is the Italian department, and one would
suppose by its appearance that but few paintings had been left in Italy.
The entrance end of the Louvre was for a long time in an unfinished
state, but was afterwards completed by that master workman, the Emperor
Napoleon. It was long thought that the building would crumble into
decay, but the genius of the great Corsican rescued it from ruin.

During our walk through the Louvre, we saw some twenty or thirty artists
copying paintings; some had their copies finished and were going out,
others half done, while many had just commenced. I remained some minutes
near a pretty French girl, who was copying a painting of a dog rescuing
a child from a