I caught the scrap of
paper, and after deciphering the words, perceived that they were written
on the back of an "assignat" for forty sous.

It was a large sum to one who had not wherewithal to buy a morsel of
bread; and as I looked at it over and over, I fancied there would be no
end to the pleasures such wealth could purchase. I can breakfast on the
Quai Voltaire, thought I, ay, and sumptuously too, with coffee, and
chestnuts, and a slice of melon, and another of cheese, and a "petite
goutte" to finish, for five sous. The panther, at the corner of the Pont
Neuf, costs but a sou; and for three one can see the brown bear of
America, the hyena, and another beast whose name I forget, but whose
image, as he is represented outside, carrying off a man in his teeth, I
shall retain to my last hour. Then, there is the panorama of Dunkirk, at
the Rue Chopart, with the Duke of York begging his life from a
terrible-looking soldier in a red cap and a tri-colored scarf. After
that, there's the parade at the "Carousel," and mayhaps something more
solemn still at the "Greve;" but there was no limit to the throng of
enjoyments which came rushing to my imagination, and it was in a kind of
ecstasy of delight I set forth on my voyage of pleasure.

CHAPTER V.

THE CHOICE OF A LIFE.

In looking back, after a long lapse of years, I can not refrain from a
feeling of astonishment, to think how little remembrance I possess of
the occurrences of that day--one of the most memorable that ever dawned
for France--the eventful 29th of July, that closed the reign of terror
by the death of the tyrant! It is true that all Paris was astir at
daybreak; that a sense of national vengeance seemed to pervade the vast
masses that filled the streets, which now were scenes of the most
exciting emotion. I can only account for the strange indifference that I
felt about these stirring themes, by the frequency with which similar,
or what, to me, at least, appeared similar scenes had already passed
before my eyes.

One of the most remarkable phases of the revolution was, the change it
produced in all the social relations, by substituting an assumed
nationality for the closer and dearer ties of kindred and affection.
France was every thing--the family nothing; every generous wish, every
proud thought, every high ambition or noble endeavor belonged to the
country. In this way, whatever patriotism may have gained, certainly all
the home affections were utterly