the 5000, all will be supported by the "Hospice" until they are twenty-one years of age, or are apprenticed, or otherwise provided for. Besides the necessary amount of servants and nurses, there are thirty-four Soeurs de la Charité, three Priests (frères), and one "Instituteur." The total expense of the institution amounted, in 1848, to 1,378,213 francs.

My attendant now led me to what, instead of the last, ought to have been the first letter of her alphabet, namely, the "tour," or turn-about, in which babies, as soon as the lamps are lighted, are received. At first I saw nothing but a small piece of dismal-looking dark wood, but on turning it round, there gradually opened to view a little cushion of straw, covered with faded green stuff; and yet, simple as it was, I felt it impossible to look at it without being deeply impressed with the political fallacy that, with good intentions, offers to the women of France in general, and of Paris in particular, a description of relief and assistance which, strange and dreadful to say, of all the animals in creation, no other living mother but a woman would accept !

On inserting an infant into this tiny reccptacle.-which not only severs it for ever from maternal care, but which I have no doubt has produced, on the hard pavement of the dark street in which the act has been so repeatedly committed, unutterable feelings and raving attitudes of misery, altogether beyond the power of the poet or the painter to describe,-a bell is either rung by the depositor, or, on the child squalling, it is turned round by the guardian in waiting, lifted out, numbered, and on the following day baptised with a name.

I was now at the door at which I had entered; but as I had been thinking of a few statistics I wished to obtain, after remunerating my attendant, I walked by myself across the interior hollow square into the department headed "Bureaux."

The superintendent was out, and, seated in the office, I was awaiting his return, when, looking into an interior room, I saw several of the clerks engaged in kindly trying to pacify a gentleman who, for some reason or other, appeared considerably excited, and who, after various gesticulations, such as placing his two elbows almost together in front of his chest, opening and clenching the fingers of both hands, and lifting up one foot after another, as if the floor was unpleasantly hot, at last, in a very squeaking tone, and with tearful eyes and cheeks, expressive of the most bitter grief, cried exactly like a child. The picture under any circumstances would have attracted a

moment's attention; but what rendered it to my mind more than ordinarily amusing was, that the fellow had a very long, well-combed, black beard, which, as he shook it in crying, kept tapping the buttons of his waistcoat!

*

LEFAYE ET LAFITTE.

My purse, when I left London, had contained but little money, and as that little, for a variety of very small reasons, no one of which could I recollect, had every day grown rather less, unlocking my writing-box, I opened my letter of credit, which, I felt quite proud to read, was adressed to what appeared to me to be the California of Paris-namely, "Lafitte and Co. Maison Dorée, Rue Lafitte." Carefully putting it into my pocket, I descended my staircase into my street; and while everything, influenced probably by my letter, was appearing to me " en couleur de rose," I saw approaching me a 'bus, driven by a coachman in a beautiful glazed, bright yellow hat, a crimson waistcoat, a nice chocolate coat with crimson facings, and fine blue trousers, perched high above two white very little punchy horses, carrying their heads low, and at perfect

ease.

The picture exactly corresponded with my mind, and accordingly, holding up my stick, I soon found myself in the interior rumbling sideways along the Rue de la Paix. Unfortunately, however, alike unknown to myself and to her, I had sat on the cowl of a young Soeur de la Charité. I had never seen her face, and probably never should, had it not been that, as I sat in silence by her side, I felt a very little twitch, and, looking round, to my deep regret found that, in turning her head, her cowl had twisted itself, or rather I had twisted it, so that what ought to have been exactly under her chin was on her cheek. I looked very sorry; she looked very kind; as quickly as I could I jumped up; she gently shook her feathers, and then everything appeared as delightful as before.

After proceeding a short way along the Boulevart des Ita*The gilt house.

liens, the conductor stopped the carriage, and, moving his hand. at me, I walked along the 'bus, descended the steps, and at the corner of the street before me read the cheering words "Rue de Lafitte." On inquiring in a shop for the house of Monsieur Lafitte, I was desired to go nearly to the end of the street, to No. 24. As, however, I approached my goal, I began to feel that either I or the numbers of the houses were a little tipsy, for above my head I read 15 and 21, then 17 and 23, and then 25. At last, after gaping around me for at least two minutes, I discovered over a rich substantial-looking door the number I wanted, and, accordingly, ringing at the bell, I told the concierge, apparently I have no doubt rather haughtily, but really and truly with harmless joy, that I wanted to see "Monsieur Lafitte."

"Il ne reste plus ici, Monsieur !" said the woman; and on my declaring to her that he did, she added very quietly, "Non, Monsieur, il est mort, et sa femme aussi !"*

"He can't be dead!" said I to myself, as, slowly walking away, I took from my pocket the letter of credit which had so delightfully inflated me

I was wondering where in the whole world I should find the house of "Lafitte," when, close before me, I saw, in large letters, the word "LEFAYE."

The house of Lefaye, as it stood before my eyes, was composed of a thin narrow shop-door, immediately above which was a little dark boarded-up window, flanked on each side by a Venetian blind, a few inches long and broad, giving air to some dark interior cupboard. Above, was a tiny window of four panes, surmounted by an arch. One side of Lefaye's door from top to bottom was garnished with a bunch of onions, a small bundle of feather brushes, some dry and very old lettuces, six little rush brooms, and four bundles of yellow things that looked like carrots stunted by adversity into radishes. On the other side of the door, above a tiny window, was inscribed in three lines

Bouilon

et Bœuf;

on the right of which, one above another, hung four bundles of yellow radishes, a little salad, and a bunch of carrots.

*No, Sir, he is dead, and his wife too.

The whole of the house of poor 66 Lefaye" occupied a space of about twelve feet broad by fifteen in height, and as I looked at it I could scarcely believe that close to it in some direction or other was the "Maison Dorée" of "Lafitte."

As, however, the above address was contained on my letter of credit, with the utmost reliance on its integrity I asked the first gentleman I met to be so good as to tell me where was the "Maison Dorée." With a kind bow he informed me it was at the corner of the Boulevart des Italiens, and, accordingly, retracing my steps to the point indicated,— that at which I had descended from the 'bus,-I saw sure enough a large house, of which the doors, windows, balconies, and spikes on the roof were all gilt! The whole of the lower floor, however, consisted of a magnificent café; and as that I knew was a place for spending money and not for receiving it, I ascended a staircase which conducted me into rather a handsome passage, at the end of which I indistinctly saw a harmless, infirm-looking gentleman, towards whom I walked, intending to ask him whereabouts in the Maison Dorée I could discover Monsieur Lafitte? On approaching him, I found he was myself! or rather a reflection of myself in a very handsome looking-glass, which covered the whole of the end of the passage. I turned back, and in due time, at the end of the opposite passage, I saw myself again! and as I could see nobody else, I descended the staircase, and, going into the café, ascertained that Lafitte and Co. lived within the porte-cochère adjoining the staircase I had ascended; and, accordingly, within a very handsome yard, and occupying very good apartments, I succeeded, after shooting so often at the large target of Rue Lafitte, in placing my arrow into the golden ball.

In returning homewards through the Boulevart des Italiens, I found the whole breadth of the footway occupied by a crowd of well-dressed people watching a man balancing four eggs on the points of four spikes which he had affixed in the ground.

A little farther on was rather a smaller crowd around a man jabbering praises, till he almost foamed at the mouth, in behalf of a combined inkstand, penknife, and pencilcase, the parts of which, with a great deal of action, and with the finger and thumb only of each hand, he kept separating and

then uniting. Beside him, with a tuft of hair on the point of his chin, and with his sword pendent at his side, was pacing very slowly a sergent de police, but, as is usual with respect, to every thing that affords amusement in Paris, no notice was taken of the obstruction of the highway, which in London, where pleasure is subservient to business, would not have been allowed to exist for two minutes.

Farther on a tall man in mustachios was selling cotton cravats. He trhew down on the pavement, with a theatrical air, a large bundle of them, from which, after extolling them for a long time, he selected a black one, then a green one, then a spotted one, which with much action he successively tied round his own handsome bare throat, the eyes of the crowd gravely following every handkerchief throughout its various manœuvres. A short dowdy-looking shopkeeper, stepping forward, purchased a red one, with which he walked off, no doubt expecting that it would look as well around his neck as it had just appeared around that of the tall seller.

As I was observing this group there passed me several girls of about 13 or 14 years of age, dressed in white, and half veiled, exactly like brides. Many were accompanied by boys of their own age, in new clothes, with a white and silver scarf on one arm. On inquiry I found they were going to be confirmed, and I then recollected having observed, in shop windows, a quantity of little manniken shirt-fronts, with turned down collars, over which were inscribed, "Chemises pour 1rs Communistes.”*

On turning round the corner I almost ran against four soldiers, carrying on their shoulders a bier or tressel, concealed by little hoops about two feet high, covered with brown canvas, and evidently containing a human body. On inquiry I ascertained it was a sick soldier, going to hospital.

The streets of Paris at once announce to any stranger that he is in a dry climate, inhabited by a gay people.

In passing along them. on whatever subject I was reflecting, the extraordinary startling clearness of the atmosphere, which descended to the very pavement, continually attracted my attention. I used sometimes to fancy I saw before me the picture of a town with people walking about it, in which

*Shirts for first Communicants.