were green with leaves and plants; the branches of
the trees swayed to and fro in the restless breeze; the little peasant
huts had a picturesque appearance in the distance, and the laborers at
work seemed more healthy than the artisans of Paris. I approached a
peasant who was following the plow. I was surprised to find the plow he
used to be altogether too heavy for the use to which it was put. Yet I
was in sight of Paris, the city of the arts and sciences. Such a plow
could not have been found in all New England. I looked at the man, too,
and compared him with an American farmer or native workman. He was
miserably dressed, and wore shoes which might have been made in the
twelfth century. He had no look of intelligence upon his face, but
stared at me with a dull and idiotic eye. This was the peasant under the
walls of Paris--what must he be in the provincial forests?

Leaving the plowman, I walked on, following a pretty little road, until
I came to a large flock of sheep in the care of a shepherd-boy and a
dog. While I stood looking at them, the boy started them off across the
fields and through the lawns to some other place. All that he did was to
follow the sheep, but I certainly never saw a dog so capable and
intelligent as that one. He seemed to catch from his master the idea of
their destination at once, and kept continually running around the
flock, now stirring them into a faster gait, then heading off some
wayward fellow who manifested a strong disposition to sheer off to the
right or left, and again turning the whole body just where the master
wished. It was an amusing sight, and well worth the walk from the city.
To be sure, the dog was rather egotistical and ostentatious. He knew his
smartness, and was quite willing that bystanders should know it too, for
he pawed, and fawned, and barked at a tremendous rate. The flock seemed
to know his ways, and while they obeyed his voice, they were not
particularly frightened at it.

Leaving the flock and their master, I soon came to a little inn, and sat
down to dine. It was not much like the restaurants on the Boulevard, or
even like those within the city on retired streets, but I got a very
comfortable meal, and for a very small sum of money. I found that the
mere mention that I was an American, in all such places as this, insured
me polite attention, and I could often notice, instantly, the change of
manners after I had informed my entertainers of my country. It is bu