ts of Paris.

"Go next to the faubourgs, to the factories, especially the smaller
ones, where the children or the employers labor with the men. Watch the
army of workers marching to their tasks. How ready and willing these
young girls seem, as they come gaily down from their distant quarters to
the shops and stores and offices of the city. Then visit the homes from
which they come. See the woman of the people at her work. Her husband's
wages are modest, their dwelling is cramped, the children are many, the
father is often harsh. Make a collection of the biographies of lowly
people, budgets of modest family life: look at them attentively and
long.

"After that, go see the students. Those who have scandalized you in the
streets are numerous, but those who labor hard are legion--only they
stay at home, and are not talked about. If you knew the toil and dig of
the Latin Quarter! You find the papers full of the rumpus made by a
certain set of youths who call themselves students. The papers say
enough of those who break windows; but why do they make no mention of
those who spend their nights toiling over problems? Because it wouldn't
interest the public. Yes, when now and then one of them, a medical
student perhaps, dies a victim to professional duty, the matter has two
lines in the dailies. A drunken brawl gets half a column, with every
detail elaborated. Nothing is lacking but the portraits of the
heroes--and not always that!

"I should never end were I to try to point out to you all that you must
go to see if you would see all: you would needs make the tour of society
at large, rich and poor, wise and ignorant. And certainly you would not
judge so severely then. Paris is a world, and here, as in the world in
general, the good hides away while the evil flaunts itself. Observing
only the surface, you sometimes ask how there can possibly be so much
riff-raff. When, on the contrary, you look into the depths, you are
astonished that in this troublous, obscure and sometimes frightful life
there can be so much of virtue."

* * * * *

But why linger over these things? Am I _not_ blowing trumpets for those
who hold trumpet-blowing in horror? Do not understand me so. My aim is
this--to make men think about unostentatious goodness; above all, to
make them love it and practice it. The man who finds his satisfaction in
things which glitter and hold his eyes, is lost: first, because he will
thus see evil be