CHAPTER IV.

November 1.
T HIS is All Saints Day, when it is the custom of the French to pay tribute to their dead, in visits to the cemeteries, and in the floral adornment of graves.
The Baroness de R (an agreeablo friend) came to
pass the day chez nous , and insisted upon my going in
her carriage to Pere la Chaise . Her father, Col. B
kindly waited on me ; and knowing that our rambles would be of long duration, he wisely dismissed the cocker .
The street leading to this vast “city of the dead” was crowded with persons carrying wreaths of immortelles , and fresh flowers, and upon the faces of some were traces of deep sorrow, which even the teiulerest sympathy of strangers durst not intrude upon. The shops along the route were filled with bouquets, anchors, crosses and garlands, all made of immortelle flowers, the preferred yellow predominating over the more appropriate and tasteful white and green. I was much disappointed in Pere la Chaise . It lacks the picturesque beauty of many of our American cemeteries, such as Greenwood, Laurel Hill and Mount Auburn; but like the Congres- sional Cemetery at Washington, its attractiveness con-
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sists in its monuments to distinguished dead. The first tomb sought was that of Abelard and Heldi8e 9 where faithful love has left to the world a blessed memory. The two lovers lie side by side, and their tomb is sur- mounted by recumbent statues. A sculptured canopy shields these figures bestrewn with flowers. Devotees to-day had laid fresh offerings there, but the withered tokens that had fallen about the base of the monument told of many a pitying visitor in years gone by. Alas! that Love’s bright dawn should fade into a sunset of sorrow! The tomb of Rachel bears evidence of the estimation in which she was held by the French nation. It is literally covered with names, in the cards so lavishly scattered about, and other homage is paid her fame in lovely flowers with their mute yet eloquent language.
If the great actress could rise from the cerements of the grave, she would find that a fadeless wreath of affec- tion and gratitude had taken the place of the proud coronet she wore all through her professional life. The monument of Count Lavalette is of white marble, bear- ing a beautiful sculptured design, commemorative of woman’s heroism and devotion, — the Countess dresses her husband in her clothes, in order to effect his escape from prison. On a commanding knoll is a sepulchre, with the simple inscription Schickler . We plucked some ivy-leaves that sprang from its base. Two half-veiled statues, like vestal virgins, keep vigils over the sacred spot, and a sculptured owl lends alike its ministrations. Wandering on, we came to the resting-place of Eugene Scribe , whose bust surmounts a stately shaft. The words
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“Inde Fortuna Liberia* 99 are inscribed beneath three heads carved on the pediment. Among the tombs most worthy of notice are those of the French Marshals, £e- febvre and Massena , and that of Vice-Admiral Due De- eres, ancien Ministre de Marine . On the Vice-Admiral’s is a bas-relief both appropriate and beautiful — a vessel in action. At a short distance we find the monument to Larrey , the faithful surgeon of Napoleon I. The fol- lowing inscription shows how much beloved he was by the great General : (( L 9 homme le plus vertueux que j 9 ai connu 99 — testament de Napoleon . The magnificent mar- ble tomb of General Gobert was so completely sur- rounded by visitors that it was difficult to obtain a sat- isfactory view of the equestrian statue and the bas-reliefs marking his military career. One represents a distin- guished General at the battle of Famars, delivering up his sword, who, as he expires, charges Gobert to gather the debris of his army. GoberCs response, je Vencore honorerai” proved a faithful pledge. An- other design showed where Gobert rushed to the rescue of some of his imprisoned men in Egypt, and killed the guard who was about to apply the torch to the mine pre- pared for their destruction. The third bas-relief repre- sents him quelling the insurgents at Boulogne by words that proved weightier than the sword ; and the remaining one, portraying battle and death, I could not make out, being too timid to venture on a ledge which overlooked a steep declivity. Within a small enclosure, a spot devoid of monument, lie the remains of Marshal Ney. Upon the gate-sill can be deciphered the words : “Sta viator heroern
F *
/"
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and ivy. The pilgrim stops to pay the homage of a sigh over the hero’s dust, and to reflect that a just reward is not always meted out to the brave and gallant, for whilst towering marble is reared here and there in close prox- imity to commemorate fame, only a few flowers and trailing vines cover up his lowly mound. One of the grandest mausoleums is that of Elizabeth, Countess de Demidoff, riee Baroness of Strogonoff, died April 8, 1818.
A temple encloses the crown and crest, which lie on a cushion, and a thick wall of masonry surrounds the whole. A Russian tomb erected to the Princess de Va- lachie Marie Bibesoo is one of the most costly. It con- sists of a magnificent chapel, with an iron dome sur- mounted by a cross. Over the entrance of white stone an eagle is perched, holding in his talons a marble cross, sceptre and sword. Two lions hold in their claws the ~ family crest and crown. The doors of the chapel are of bronze, with figures of Faith and Charity. Not less conspicuous is the tomb to General Foy, erected by na- tional subscriptions, Nov. 28, 1825. Above a massive base rises a Grecian temple, the figure of the General resting against a column, upon which are two olive- wreaths encircling his sword. The bas-reliefs on the side point to his military exploits. The twin-tomb of Manuel and Beranger is of circular form. Their heads are sculptured in bronze, and over them hang wreaths of laurel. One inscription, in the language of Manuel, reads : “ Yesterday I announced that I would only yield by force — to-day I come to keep my word and Beran-
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ger’s dying request is told in words that proved the strength and fidelity of his friendship : “ I wish to be buried in the tomb with my friend Manuel, .” The tombs of Molicre and La Fontaine also claimed our notice, but the hours were too brief to permit us to loiter at every attractive spot. The Chapel of Pere la Chaise is situa- ted on a hill commanding a fine view of Paris. It being densely crowded, we were very glad to escape therefrom, yet on emerging, we found the outside avenues alike swollen with the human tide. I feared I was wearying my kind and intelligent friend by my insatiable curiosity to peer into all the grated chapels — to look at the statues of the Virgin draped in lace, lit up by the mellow gleam of wax candles — to count the wreatlis of immortelles ac- cumulated by yearly deposits, and to read the various records of noble deeds and gentle virtues. It was very sad to behold little children clad in black carrying bou- quets to a father’s or mother’s grave, but still more sad to the heart was the sight of those grassy mounds beneath which sleep little ones from our own far distant land. What trial can be more sorrowful than that of a parent who travels homeward, leaving a beloved child in a for- eign grave ; for is it not a shrine where the heart forever dwells, and towards which loving feet long to turn? Oft have troubled souls, leaving gay Paris, turned their last glances in the direction of Pere la Chaise , and found a ray of consolation in the same thoughts that moved the poet’s pen:
“ Far, far away, the zephyrs wave In silence o’er thy lonely grave !
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And spirits of a foreign air At evening love to linger there ;
And roses of another shore —
(Blooming where thou shalt bloom no more — )
Shed sweetness o’er the quiet spot Where thou liest low, but unforgot ;
While moonbeams of a distant sky Watch o’er it like a mother’s eye.”
Death loses but little of its sadness, even when asso- ciated with beautiful flowers, the carol of birds, and the chiming of bells. I witnessed and heard all this to-day, and with the moumfulness of it all came the thought of that heavenly joy which reigns above the tumult of this world. How expressive are French epitaphs ! A single word, Helas! contains a volume of sorrow and senti- ment; as also " United on earth and in heaven,” and “ Rachel mourning for her children.”
Leaving the cemetery at five o’clock, we had the ill luck of finding no carriage at hand. The gendarmes and cavalry officers on duty at the gates were to us a novel sight ; but it seems that the enforcement of order in France is paramount to every other consideration. We were directed to turn into a miserable street, as dis- gusting as the name it bore, Rue des Rais; and on emerging therefrom were obliged to walk all the way to Place de la Badile. There the proud Column of July, commemorative of the three days of that month in 1830, rises to the height of a hundred and sixty feet, and the Genius of Liberty, a graceful winged figure, caps its summit. A further search of a conveyance resulted in our finding only an omnibus, which conveyed us as far
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as the Maddaine. Fifteen minutes elapsed before a carriage came to our second relief, and we strolled about the flower market, enjoying the fragrance of violets and other sweet blossoms.
November 3. — Mr. V , of London, has arrived in
Paris, to attend the farewell banquet of the Commission- ers to the Exposition, which promises to be on a mag- nificent scale. We passed some very profitable hours at Champs de Mars this morning, first entering the British section, so rich in machinery, textile fabrics, and furni- ture. The United States department is emphatically a failure, and contains but little that can entitle us to rank with other nations. The food show, including the wines of California and Ohio, is perhaps her only success, and after this comes a motley collection, embracing some minerals, stuffed birds of gay plumage, fire-arms, fero- cious looking grizzly bears, wax flowers, artificial teeth, photographs, and other minor articles. A case of silver- ware from Tiffany’s, New York, reflects no particular credit on that elegant establishment. Of pianos, the Chickering , so faultless in tone, must surely win the prize. It is said that on the opening day of the Expo- sition the array of American ladies was so brilliant as to be remarked by the Emperor, an incident that made some atonement for the shortcomings of our country. In the sections of Egypt, China, Morocco, Persia, and Turkey, are many interesting objects — the white elephant of Siam, Turkish food (not at all suited, we should think, to the American palate), furs, antlers, and rich F*
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fabrics of Morocco. But the most attractive features are life-size figures representing different nationalities — “a closely-veiled lady on the back of a dromedary, and a woman reclining on a gorgeously- tinted carpet and in the Brazilian and Haytien departments, u men carrying the lasso, and a hunter in his trappings taking leave of his wife.” The latter group is so life-like, and the expression of sorrow on the faces so natural, that we feel the full force of a real farewell. The Turkey car- pets are rich and elegant, and so are the embroidered dresses — the raw produce being all-sufficient. Rome presents some choice mosaics, chief among which is the beautiful picture, the tomb of Cecilia Metetta. A circu- lar table of large dimensions represents the palaces of Rome and its principal monuments of antiquity ; and another, more simple, displays a few sprays of lily of the valley, the green leaves and white flowers contrast- ing well with the polished black ground. They looked as natural as if they had been carelessly thrown there. The jewelry of this section is most tempting, and con- sists of stone and shell cameos. The ebony furniture is inlaid with ivory ; and then come specimens of mala- chite, and quantities of raw silk, spun and in the cocoon, marbles, etc. The Russian courts embrace hardware and raw materials, furs and heavy caps, suggestive of her cold winters, fancy articles of leather, whose odor was almost overpowering when the cases were opened, and lay figures in the national costume. There is always a crowd around these interesting figures, which are far more attractive than many of the distinguished visitors.
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The two magnificent elageres, inlaid with malachite and mosaic to represent fruit and flowers, were presented to the French Empress and the Empress of Russia by the Emperor of Russia. The next attraction for us was a white marble mantel of rare device— cupids lying among the roses ; but the little “ blind gods ” were in such cold and stem repose that they would not let fly their arrows. A very curious article is a silver lace handkerchief more delicate than the finest spun glass and of cobweb consis- tency. A rich Countess had placed it on exhibition with other rare articles. The collection of precious stones exhibited in this department is very valuable. Portugal displays silks, wines, coals and other minerals ; but Spain does better in an extensive show of machinery and a large collection of cereals. Greece is charming with her many varieties of oranges and lemons, and their color seen from afar made us imagine we were gaining on a gold region. She also furnishes spun silks and costumes. Switzerland abounds in watches and beautiful carvings in wood. Austria makes a varied display of machinery and hardware, food, glass and por- celain ware, photographs, and meerschaums of many shapes and designs. The art of photography, it would seem, is known all over the world, judging by the thou- sands of pictures afloat here. Prussia unfurls her ban- ner proudly over her treasures, her most solid excellence being in machinery. Berlin saddlery, cane chairs, straw hats, etc., do her much credit. The perfume of eau de Cologne of Jean Marie Farina in this vicinity seemed to be diffused throughout the whole atmosphere, as bottles
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were opened to invite purchasers. Belgium is specially attractive in her wealth of laces from the cities of Brus- sels and Antwerp, some being miracles in pattern and texture. In the examination of these fabrics many per- sons give a thought only to the beauty of design, the fine quality, and the rich adornment they will make to the figure or person, little dreaming of the weary hands, the overtaxed eyes, and the poverty of the creatures who toil “ morn in and day out.” With due appreciation of the benefit accruing from factories, where so many of the poor are employed, there is still something sad to the contemplative mind, which cannot fail to pity those w ho pursue their daily round of work in a close and fetid atmosphere, doubtless more injurious than the roughest out-door labor. So I thought years since on visiting a porcelain and glass factory in Jersey City. The wasted figures and pallid countenances stamped themselves on my memory, from which they will never be erased. The ecclesiastical vestments from Bruges are exceedingly rich. France comes last in notice, but, following the old adage, she shall be first in the assignment of rank. We place the diadem upon her brow ! In justice to some countries, due allowance must be made for their distance from this city and the difficulty, trouble and expense of transportation. France is “at home,” and this one advantage would insure to her victory independent of her very great merit. The noting down of macliinery becomes so heavy and tedious a work that its bare mention must suffice ; but the food topic being something invigorating, I w ill add that her courts are copiously stored, and that the
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wine districts abundantly display Bordeaux, Burgundy and Champagne. The cutlery is very fine, and the glassware from Baccarats bewildering in its prismatic reflections. The famous dinner-service of white cut- glass set in gold comprises a variety of ornamental pieces, and seems fit for a sovereign’s table. Scarcely less observed is the delicate ruby glass and that’ of the soft amber shade, the porcelain ware richly colored, and a supper-service, each plate varying in designs, such as landscape views, flower garlands, or a single cherub face, in beauty not unlike Raphael’s angels. Sevres’ une- qualed china, the Aubusson carpets and Gobelin tapes- tries, bronze ornaments, carved furniture, clocks and watches of celebrated makers, dress apparel made up after the most approved styles, the gorgeous silks and velvets of Lyons, and doll-baby shows (which interest adults almost as much as children), stand pre-eminent ; but there are, besides these, thousands of " articles de Paris” which it would be an overwhelming task to enu- merate. The most magnificent jewels on exhibition are those of the Countess Dudley , comprising brooch, neck- lace, tiara and bracelet. The central diamond of the latter article is a Koh-i-noor in size, and the others that cluster around it are worth a fabulous sum. On the same range with this private display is a case of the most costly jewelry from the house of Hairy Emanuel, 18 New Bond street, London— jeweler to the Queen, the Prince and Princess of Wales. Chief among the daz- zling attractions gleams a diamond eagle set with other precious stones which would more than buy a Prince’s ransom.
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November 7. — Dates commence to puzzle me, for I find myself making a retrograde recountal of events. These latter days have brought to Paris my friend Miss Tracy and the family of Prof. Hall. We visited to- gether the Exposition. The carriage of the Emperor was in waiting at the grande porte , where a dense crowd had assembled to see his Majesty and the Emperor of Austria leave the building. The enthusiasm waxed very strong, but ended in disappointment when the coach moved off, and it was discovered that a more private exit would be made. The attendant upon the Emperors pavilion, near at hand, had donned his embroidered ap- parel and powdered wig, ready to throw open the doors of the beautiful miniature palace, the splendor of which few imaginations, however rich and poetic, can conceive. It lacked nothing that taste and wealth could suggest. The floors of the salon and adjoining circular rooms were covered with the finest Aubusson tapestry, and the idea of stepping among flowers was poetically carried out as the eye met a milk-white ground, scattered over with roses, violets, and other garden beauties. The fur- niture, with its rare texture of tapestry, exhibited inter- esting designs, such as a parlor scene with Marquis and Marquise , and representations of lovely nature in a greensward with birds and flowers. Thus every chair became a pleasant study. Articles of vertu appeared here and there, and added to these were the chandeliers and vases of crystal, the damask and lace drapery of the arched windows, the frescoed ceilings picturing the heav- ens with faint blue clouds and hovering angels, and the
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odor of freshly culled flowers, to make it May-day within. With beauty so complete and choice, who would not sigh for royal privileges or the possession of this little fairy realm ?
In the reserved gardens is another pavilion, fitted up in sumptuous style, for the Empress. She can sit among the lavish splendors inside and gaze out upon the beau- tiful surroundings — the parterres of bright-hued blos- soms and the fountains — and listen to sweet music, as a charm added to her charmed sight. The Empress gener- ally devotes the early part of the mornings to visiting the Exposition. The fine art galleries seem to be the favor- ite places of resort ; but the crowd there is usually so great, and the time for examination so limited, that the merit of the pictures is often lost. It is perfect rapture to walk through those long galleries, whose walls seem to breathe and speak in the paintings of the “ human form divine,” and then to turn to the aisles where beau- tiful statuary also seems ready to spring into life. There are historical, poetical, mythological and religious sub- jects ; and one can wander, as it were, in each of these separate worlds, culling flowers to lay at Memory’s shrine. The few I have chosen and gathered give out their richest perfume, and will always sweetly flourish.
England, from general opinion, seems to be lacking in pictures by her great masters. Is it due to oversight or apathy? There were fine portraits of the Prince and Princess of Wales, and a painting, The last night of Jesus Christ in His Nazar erne home . The inscription, “ The night is far spent, the day is at hand,” (words of
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sorrow that should sink deep into every heart), struck me as forcibly as did the sad subject to whom it applied. The United States furnished a gem in Church’s Niagara , and the White Girl by Whistler. Whatever may have been the merit of the latter piece, it attracted more by its oddity than by its beauty. In the Russian section there were some fine battle-scenes ; and France was not wanting in pictures of her military eras. A portrait of Joan of Arc after the battle of Compiegne revealed a saintly face lit up with the fire of military enthusiasm, yet tempered by “ religion’s softened ray.” One of the finest gems in coloring was Venus rising from the Sea , and Leutze’s Mary Stuart hearing Mass at Holyrood for the first time after leaving France . In sculpture there were Thompson’s bronze statue of Napoleon, a splendid success, and a bust of Abraham Lincoln.
In the Italian section we principally noticed the paint- ings — Jesus tempted by Satan , by Bonajuti, and Rapi- sardi’s Ophelia ; but the statuary was in every instance worthy of that classic land. First and pre-eminent, the statue of Napoleon I., represented in a sitting posture. It pointed to his last days at St. Helena, when the proud spirit was about to seek release from its earthly bonds, and the battle of life was drawing near its close. One felt, in gazing upon this statue so cold and white, the silence of death, or that the last lingering spark of vitality was about to depart. Upon the base of the statue were inscribed these words, Gli ultimi giomi di Napoleone primo , and the name of the artist, Vincent Vela, to whom is rendered the just and liberal homage
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of thousands. There was still another statue of Napo- leon, by Romanelli. If I remember rightly, Italy claimed the Sorrowful Christ and Mary , two figures upon which many an eye turned in pensive thought ; and La femme adultere , a beautifully executed work. How much of supplication and anguish in that face, and how vividly does it tell us that the loss of virtue stealeth away happiness and drieth up the founts of the heart ! Who could fail to mark the furrowed brow, the drooping eye, heavy as with pent-up tears, and the prostrate form crouching low, as if to avoid the gaze of those who knew what her burden of sin was ? And yet with all this sorrow, there lingered about the figure an air of beauty and youth which showed that with pollu- tion there may yet remain something to mitigate the world’s censure — a something from which purity cannot be altogether driven — and # that “one faint trace of heaven is left in her.” This statue seemed to lack the sympathy which the celebrated painting of the Adultress finds in the figure of the pardoning Savior, and to miss that balm of consolation to the contrite heart in His words, “ Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” Close beside stood a fine statue of Eve, by Pandiani, and two busts representing Marie Antoinette at Versailles and at the Conciergerie — the proud Sovereign, and the dethroned Queen awaiting the guillotine. The proudly arched neck of the Queen is plainly marked in every bust and statue. A critical examination of the infinite variety of statues from the Roman States, or Italy’s vast field of marbles, would have engrossed weeks and months. 0 The o
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gendai'me8 invariably drove us out at the hours of four or five p. m., and each parting seemed “ a fiirewell to Paradise.” It was truly an Eden of delight to minds appreciative of rare creations of art.
* * * A pleasant reception at home brought to- gether some friends whom I had not met for several years. Paris seems to take up the links of friendship, and bind thenr anew after the old fashion. Many are the familiar faces that greet us in distant lands, and dear are the associations they awaken ! Mr. S. P. Dewey, of California, and family, were among our welcome guests. One friend, a mere youth when last seen, had matured into a splendid type of manhood, and acknowledges himself knee-deep plunged and heart engrossed in the pleasures and distractions of Parisian life. A resi- dence in the Latin quarter tells how the hours come and go with some Americans, who would have the finger of Time rheumatically inclined, so as to point slowly at the falling sands. The wife of Mr. Martin Zborowska attracted universal attention, possessed as she is of talent and grace. In her recent marriage the American colony ha3 lost a beautiful widow, whose charms enlisted numerous suitors. Then there was the handsome Miss Gordon, of Ohio, unanimously voted en- chantress of the hour; and Miss Sharp, of New York, a little heiress so bewitching as not to need the flash of jewels or the aid of golden bait. Among the gentlemen were Messrs. L’Herbette and Kane, French and English bankers, noted for their urbanity of manner ; Governor Winthrop, of Boston, and many others, the mention of
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whom time and space will not allow. Dancing to de- lightful music did not cease until nearly two a. m. * * The great theatrical star in Paris at present is Mile. Schneider, in the play of La Grande Duchesse . Her votaries pronounce her superbe , magnijupie , ravi&sante, and exhaust the French vocabulary in their expressions of praise. The charming song, “Ah ! que faime les militaires !” sets all our musical nerves in motion and ourselves in a twirl, which if experienced every night would surely require a soothing potion. We have recently attended the Theatre de la Porte St. Martin to see Biche au Bois. What language shall be employed to describe the rich and elegant costumes of the ballet dancers, who were f&irly flying in the air under the murmurs of applause like leaves swayed by the breeze; the vivacious acting; the syren-like songs; the dazzling scenery ; and all else that bewildered ? The play was Blaak Crook intensified, though with a fairer title, the White Fawn . Every moment spent within the walls of this theatre proved the correctness of that droll description of Porte St. Ma?iin and its dramatic revelry by Moore, in the letter of Biddy Fudge to Miss Dor- othy. At the close of the performance, as in Moore’s time, a man entered a den of lions, which in this instance were not stuffed, and fought with them furiously. Such dangerous sport should not be countenanced unless there be Daniels in these days. A few nights previously this venturesome person was wounded. The prices of seats in the Paris theatres range very high, but one gets the worth of his money in the good performance and in the
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length of the plays. Porte St. Martin contains eighteen hundred seats, and its exterior is adorned with busts of Sulli, GrimauU and Gluck. The ventilation is miser- able, and headaches usually follow an evening spent there.
November 6. — The Exposition is finally closed, and what was a busy scene before, in the masses of sight-see- ing people, is equally so now in the numerous workmen who are despoiling the building of its goods and chat- tels ; robbing it of its beauty hour by hour, so that soon there will be naught left but the great shell which en- closed the treasure. We walked through the dismantled sections and left* their debris for the central garden, whose statuary was yet undisturbed, and where the flow- ers were still sweetly blooming amidst the playing of fountains. From this stand-point an accurate idea was formed of the magnitude of the Exposition, of the im- mense wealth gathered within and around, and of how nations had vied with one another in their efforts to ex- cel. What a triumph for Champ de Mars will ever be the Exposition of ’67 !
We found our way to the American soda fount, around which were groups of persons patiently awaiting their turn of refreshment. This simple drink is looked upon by the French as deserving of popular favor and patron- age, whilst our own people welcome it with the delight they would a crystal spring in an arid desert. Many quaffed it as though it contained nectar drops “ mixed by the gods”, and we gave evidence of a similar belief
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in our frequent encores, which fell so fast on the ears of the enterprising vender as to elicit from him an appeal to "stop,” else he would not be responsible for our rash- ness. What a snug little fortune might be made in France with that effervescent draught ! One little girl did not see why the apparatus could not be put up at her home, if only to afford her the amusement of turn- ing the spigot.
Our steps were next directed to the Jardin reserve , whose beauties wore so rich a glow as to warrant an en- trance fee. There was everything to charm the vision. Upon sloping mounds appeared many varieties of vege- tables brought to their greatest perfection, and in jux- taposition, a feast of flowers growing luxuriantly in the open air. Specimens of cut roses were exposed in con- servatories, their sweet odors filling the atmosphere; and yet to have kept a fresh supply during the Exposition must have exhausted the bloom of many acres, and left a “wilderness” where once “blossomed the rose.” After the flowers, came the fruits, laid out most temptingly ; but the printed command, Kc touches pas , made one wish that the peach with its ripe blush was of wax, or that the mellow pears and golden grapes were a thousand miles distant The garden abounded with little arbors, summer-houses, iron-wrought pavilions, flower-beds, clumps of bushes where the hardy berry peeped out, and rustic bridges with clambering vines. But the en- chanting scene was the Grotto, which elicited from every beholder an ejaculation of surprise and admiration ! A winding pathway led to its summit, which was construct- or
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ed of rude, jagged stone, over which the ivy grew and the myrtle-vine twined its glossy leaves. The sound of the cascade was here heard, inviting to its discovery. Turning from the point where we stood to the other side, we saw water trickling down the steep, and all of us grew enthusiastic over the beautiful and admirable rep- resentation of nature. All these attractions rendered us the more eager to enter the subterranean passage, which by its narrowness necessitated some squeezing in the crowd that was passing in and out. The grotto was circular in form, and along its sides large cavities formed aqua- riums, the atmosphere being considerably cooled and freshened by the water all around. It really seemed like a miniature insight into the mysteries of the deep, as the finny tribe, among which glimmered some disa- greeable looking little monsters, were swimming about among the stones, pebbles and ferns. At one end of the grotto, immediately facing the entrance, which admitted only a feeble ray of light, there came splashing from a rocky height, a sheet of water reflecting an emerald hue, caught partly from the overhanging ivy. A large basin in the centre, with moss-covered sides,’ received the falling water, and the crystal rill with its tinkling music flowed gently on, and out of sight. So did we emerge out of the darkness to enjoy the brilliant sunset, and to listen to some operatic airs by a magnificent band of music. Chairs were selected near a large wire cage filled with paroquets and other birds, whose warbling notes were responded to by little Alice in a melange of French and English words.
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“All things must have an end,” was our sad musing, as the sun went down, and our steps turned away from the lovely garden. The fine afternoon had brought out all Paris, affording one the best opportunity possible to see the people. Some persons were clad in the picturesque costumes of their respective countries, the bright, varie- gated colors imparting a brilliancy to the scene ; but, very little can be said in praise of the beauty of the women seen on that occasion, the French, in general, certainly lacking it. In all my wanderings among thousands of the fair sex, I do not remember to have met a half-dozen pretty women, other than Americans. Once in the English restaurant I saw two faces that any land might have been proud to claim. They were English beauties, engaged in the traffic of sweetmeats and candies. One was white as Alpine snows (and this comparison is barely just), with hair purely flaxen, bound with a violet ribbon, and adorned with a single camelia. The other was of a more animated style, with a bright, cheerful face, an eye speaking a thousand fan- cies by its lustre and twinkle, and with that glorious crown — luxuriant hair — which might have even excited the envy of several Spanish seiloritas who were sitting at a refreshment table near by But now we must make our farewell to the Champ de Mars , upon whose site have not only been gathered the products of the world, but thousands, nay, millions of the human race, from Kings, Emperors, and nearly all the crowned heads of this great continent, to the poorest and humblest of man- kind — tho beggar and percliance the outcast ! As for
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myself, I feel a deep sense of gratitude for the good for- tune that wafted me to a foreign land. The long-cher- ished dream of Europe has become a sweet reality ; yet with all these enjoyments, and the appreciation thereof, my heart clings not the less fondly to America !
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