mperial
haste, postilions and outriders and the imperial carriage. There is a
sensation, a cordial and not loud greeting, but no Yankee-like cheers.
That heavy gentleman in citizen's dress, who looks neither to right nor
left, is Napoleon III.; that handsome woman, grown full in the face of
late, but yet with the bloom of beauty and the sweet grace of command,
in hat and dark riding-habit, bowing constantly to right and left,
and smiling, is the Empress Eugenie. And they are gone. As we look for
something more, there is a rout in the side avenue; something is coming,
unexpected, from another quarter: dragoons dash through the dense mass,
shouting and gesticulating, and a dozen horses go by, turning the corner
like a small whirlwind, urged on by whip and spur, a handsome boy riding
in the midst,--a boy in cap and simple uniform, riding gracefully and
easily and jauntily, and out of sight in a minute. It is the boy Prince
Imperial and his guard. It was like him to dash in unexpectedly, as he
has broken into the line of European princes. He rides gallantly, and
Fortune smiles on him to-day; but he rides into a troubled future. There
was one more show,--a carriage of the Emperor, with officers, in English
colors and side-whiskers, riding in advance and behind: in it the future
King of England, the heavy, selfish-faced young man, and beside him his
princess, popular wherever she shows her winning face,--a fair, sweet
woman, in light and flowing silken stuffs of spring, a vision of lovely
youth and rank, also gone in a minute.

These English visitors are enjoying the pleasures of the French capital.
On Sunday, as I passed the Hotel Bristol, a crowd, principally English,
was waiting in front of it to see the Prince and Princess come out,
and enter one of the Emperor's carriages in waiting. I heard an
Englishwoman, who was looking on with admiration "sticking out" all
over, remark to a friend in a very loud whisper, "I tell you, the Prince
lives every day of his life." The princely pair came out at length, and
drove away, going to visit Versailles. I don't know what the Queen would
think of this way of spending Sunday; but if Albert Edward never does
anything worse, he does n't need half the praying for that he gets every
Sunday in all the English churches and chapels.

THE LOW COUNTRIES AND RHINELAND

AMIENS AND QUAINT OLD BRUGES

They have not yet found out the secret in France of banishing dust from
railway-carri