which must have been contained inside of the citadel but
hid from the view by its towering walls. This castle was beautiful beyond
description. It was fairer far than the castles of the kings seem to be,
except when "distance lends enchantment to their view." But the second
scene was as ephemeral as the first. We beheld its fascinating beauties
only a few seconds when its four walls again dropped into the abyss below,
and there issued from its inner apartment a host of beautiful little
actresses such as I did not see upon any other stage in Europe. These
little fairy-like beauties, many perhaps not more than from 5 to 10 years
of age, all dressed in the most brilliant costumes, at once skipped into a
dance "running the ring and tracing the mazy round," to the great
satisfaction of the admiring spectators, who were as much delighted by the
gayety, grace and accomplishment which they displayed in their
performances, as they have been astonished at their sudden and almost
miraculous appearance.

At a Ball.

Dancing is the favorite amusement in Paris, and these exercises are
conducted on a grand scale, even during the summer season. I attended a
Public Ball one evening, when almost the entire floor (covering nearly
three fourths of an acre) and the adjoining garden of about the same area,
were thronged by thousands of gay and jovial dancers, all wild from the
excitement produced by the rhythmical motions and music of that playful
exercise.

Incidents.

The reader can not be more curious to know how one that is unacquainted
with the French language can get along in Paris, than I was when I first
took up my residence there. The first morning I went out to seek some
place where I might get fresh milk; _Lait_ is the French name of it as I
found it in my conversational guide book. I soon found that name upon a
card of pasteboard hanging at the door of a shop where bread and fruits
were displayed in the window. On entering the store a clever Frenchman
politely addressed me, but he soon discovered that I was none of the
_loquacious_ kind, in French. I asked for _lait_, pronouncing the word as
if it was spelt l-a-t-e, but he did not understand me. I could adorn my
conversation neither with verbs nor with adjectives, so I repeated the
word _lait_ several times with the rising inflection, by which he readily
inferred that I wanted something, though what that something was, remained
a mistery to him, all the same. By