big hungry mouth. On top of the hull thing stood a rarin' angry brute,
illustratin' the cap-stun and completed mission of the whiskey
bottle.

Arvilly talked more'n half an hour to Miss Meechim about it, and I wuz
glad on't.

But when I brung that up, Josiah waved the subject off with a shrug of
his shoulders in the true French way, though a little too voyalent.

I had ketched him practicin' that movement of the shoulders before the
glass. He had got so he could do it first rate, I had to own to
myself, though I hated to see him practise it so much, mistrustin'
that it wuz liable to bring on his rumatiz.

And I see in a letter he writ home: "Be sure, Ury, and weed the
_jardin_, specially the onions," and he ended the letler: "_Oh revwar,
mon ammy._"

I knowed that it would make Ury crazy as a hen, and Philury, too,
wonderin' what it meant, but couldn't break it up. But speakin' of
"jardins," we went to several on 'em, the last one we see the most
beautiful seemin'ly of the lot. Jardin de Luxemburg Palais Royal,
Tuilleries, Acclimation, Jardin des Plantes. There are hundreds of 'em
scattered through the city, beautiful with flowers and shrubbery and
statutes and fountains and kept in most beautiful order and bloom at
public expense.

And we visited cathedrals, missions, churches, museums, the sewers,
libraries, went through the galleries of the Louvre--milds and milds
of beauty and art, as impossible to describe as to count the leaves in
Josiah's sugar-bush or the slate stuns in the Jonesville creek, and as
numerous as if every one of them leaves and slate stuns wuz turned
into a glorious picter or statute or wondrous work of ancient or
modern art. I hain't a-goin' to try to describe 'em or let Josiah try,
though he wouldn't want to, for he whispered to me there in a sort of
a fierce whisper: "Samantha Allen, I never want to set my eyes agin on
another virgin, if I live to be as old as Methulesar or a saint."
Well, there wuz sights on 'em, but they looked real fat and healthy,
the most on 'em; I guess they enjoyed good health.

And one afternoon when the sky wuz blue, the sun shone and the birds
sung merrily, we went to that dretful place, the Paris morgue. There
wuz a crowd before the doors, for the Seine had yielded a rich harvest
that mornin'; there wuz five silent forms, colder than the marble they
lay on, one a young woman with long hair falling about her white
shoulders. Amongst the crowd that pressed forw