.

On my return home I passed through a street often mentioned by Eugene
Sue in his Mysteries of Paris--a street formerly noted for the vile
character of its inhabitants. It was formerly filled with robbers and
cut-throats, and even now I should not care to risk my life in this
street after midnight, with no policemen near. It is exceedingly narrow,
for I stood in the center and touched with the tips of my fingers the
walls of both sides of the street. It is very dark and gloomy, and
queer-looking passages run up on either side from the street. Some of
them were frightful enough in their appearance. To be lost in such a
place in the dead of night, even now, would be no pleasant fate, for
desperate characters still haunt the spot. Possibly the next morning, or
a few mornings after, the stranger's body might be seen at _La Morgue._
That is the place where all dead bodies found in the river or streets
are exhibited--suicides and murdered men and women.

Talking of this street and its reputation in Eugene Sue's novels,
reminds me of the man. When I first saw it he had just been elected to
the Chamber of Deputies by an overwhelming majority. It was not because
Sue was the favorite candidate of the republicans, but he stood in such
a position that his defeat would have been considered a government
victory, and consequently he was elected. I was glad to find the man
unpopular among democrats of Paris, for his life, like his books, has
many pages in it that were better not read. At that time he was living
very quietly in a village just out of Paris, and though surrounded with
voluptuous luxuries, he was in his life strictly virtuous. He was the
same afterward, and being very wealthy, gave a great deal to the poor.
His novels are everywhere read in France.

I was not a little surprised during my first days in Paris to see the
popularity of Cooper as a novelist. His stories are for sale at every
book-stall, and are in all the libraries. They are sold with
illustrations at a cheap rate, and I think I may say with safety that he
is as widely read in France as any foreign novelist. This is a little
singular when it is remembered how difficult it is to convey the broken
Indian language to a French reader. This is one of the best features of
Cooper's novels--the striking manner in which he portrays the language
of the North American Indian and his idiomatic expressions. Yet such is
the charm of his stories that they have found their