nd of wondering awe stealing over her withered
face, while he played some simple air upon a little pipe--thus asking
alms. So simple was the air, the very shadow of a melody, that the scene
might have been amusing, had it not been so pitiful.

At noon we lunched in the comfortless waiting-room at Rouen, while the
professors made a hasty visit to the cathedral during our stay of half
an hour. We still suffered from the tossing of the sea, and cathedrals
possessed no charms in our eyes. It was almost night when we reached
Paris, and joined the hurrying crowd descending from the train. It was a
descent into Pandemonium. There was a confusion of unintelligible sounds
in our ears like the roll of a watchman's rattle, bringing no suggestion
of meaning. The calmness of despair fell upon our crushed spirits, with
a sense of powerlessness such as we never experienced before or since. A
dim recollection of school-days--of Ollendorff--rose above the chaos in
our minds. "Has the physician of the shoemaker the canary of the
carpenter?" we repeated mechanically; and with that our minds became a
blank.

Deliverance awaited us; and when, just outside the closed gates, first
in the expectant crowd, we espied the face of a friend, peace enveloped
us like a garment. Our troubles were over.

CHAPTER VI.

THE PARIS OF 1869.

The devil.--Cathedrals and churches.--The
Louvre.--Modern French art.--The Beauvais clock,
with its droll little puppets.--Virtue in a red
gown.--The Luxembourg Palace.--The yawning statue
of Marshal Ney.--Gay life by gas-light.--The
Imperial Circus.--The Opera.--How the emperor and
empress rode through the streets after the
riots.--The beautiful Spanish woman whose face was
her fortune.--Napoleon's tomb.

IT may be the City of Destruction, the very gateway to depths unknown;
but with its fair, white dwellings, its fair, white streets, that
gleamed almost like gold beneath a summer sun, it seemed much more a
City Celestial. It may be, as some affirm, that the devil here walks
abroad at midday; but we saw neither the print of his hoofs upon the
asphaltum, nor the shadow of his horns upon the cream-like Caen stone.
We walked, and rode, and dwelt a time within its limits; and but for a
certain reckless gayety that gave to the Sabbath an air of Vanity Fair,
but for the mallet of the workman that disturbed our Sunday wor