one of them to her lips-then, turning her head a little aside, reflected then looked up one ward-then up another-then reflected again-at last she kindly told me there were in all 131.

In this ward I saw a great number of the "Sœurs de la Charité," benevolently employed in nursing, waiting upon, and watching over poor fellow-creatures, to whose expiring wants they were so devotedly attentive, that I passed almost all without their being even aware of the presence of a stranger in the room. On several pillows I beheld faces sometimes pale as death, sometimes fearfully flushed as if the spark of life was making one last convulsive effort to shine before it became extinct for ever! In one bed I heard a poor creature breathing very hard; immediately over her head was the face of a sœur of whom I could see nothing but her black bent back.

I had now as I thought finished my mournful job, and I would willingly have ruminated for a few moments on what I had beheld, but my relentless conductor led me to the ground floor, into another set of four long halls, of the same shape and dimensions. Instead, however, of forming open roads, each hall, leaving a narrow passage in common, was parcelled off into little compartments, giving to each of ninety-two old women a tiny room, in which she could end her days with the inestimable enjoyment of a dulce domum. Accordingly, peeping out of one of the rooms, I beheld with great satisfaction, glaring at me, the yellow, oblong eyes of a tabby cat, the only one I had seen in the establishment.

"We have now finished?" said I to my conductor.

"No," he replied. with great unkindness; "there exists in the story above us another set of four halls, divided into rooms similar to those before us."

"Bless me!!" said I to myself, "all the incurable old women in creation must surely be here!" However, I did not like to give up, so, resolutely sighing out the word " Allons!" I followed him up stairs. where I found exactly what he had described, and nothing more.

In descending into the great court, the excessive freshness and freedom of which I perceived I had before completely neglected to appreciate, after passing the church, we entered a lofty sacristy, lighted by seven windows, full of altar orna

ments packed in milliners' long pasteboard boxes. From them we went into the kitchen, as usual composed of one hot plate, containing six boilers, surrounded on all sides with shining, healthy-faced copper saucepans. From them we proceeded to some shady walks in two gardens, to which it was evident very little attention had been paid, but the inmates were no doubt too old to enjoy them.

My conductor, who, like an evil companion, kept on leading me I knew not where, now brought me to a door on which was inscribed "Lingerie Générale," composed of six long chambers running into each other, full of shelves up to the ceiling. filled with strata of coarse linen, which looked and smelt beautifully clean and fresh. The waxed floor was not only as slippery as ice, but as clean as the sheets, pillow-cases, and towels ranged above it; indeed, I quite fell in love with the nice toothless old sœur who had charge of the establishment, and whom I perceived gliding or rather skating along the floor, on two pieces of quilted green baize, cut rather bigger than her shoes. On her kindly proposing to show me the contents of her shelves, seeing there was on the floor a spare pair of these baizes, I stepped upon them.

Her

"Oh! ne vous donnez pas la peine, Monsieur !" I answered I would not dirty her floor for the whole world. So we glided and slided together, thinking of and talking about nothing but linen, until we came to the sixth room, at the end of which I saw, sitting remarkably still on a very low chair, a little Sister of Charity that appeared to be scarcely three feet high. On walking up to her, I found her to be a doll. cap and white stomacher, most beautifully worked, formed a striking contrast with her course black gown, and with three black crosses suspended from her neck. In her right hand was a prayer-book, and on her lap a little empty green boat. Pointing to it for I did not know how to call it I asked the good sœur what it was for. To my great satisfaction she an

swered," Pour les pauvres !"‡

She then led me into a small room called "le Pliage,” in which I found, busily occupied in arranging and folding clean linen, three work-women in ordinary clothes and frilled caps,

* Linen Department.

Oh! do not give yourself the trouble. Sir.
For the poor!

and two Sisters of Charity, one of whom, a tall, slight, elegant looking, very young person, appeared to me to be transcendently beautiful. My eyes, however, through life have so repeatedly deceived me; I have so often on quitting the desert regions fancied every gnarled tree and patch of stunted pasture I beheld to be "transcendently beautiful;" that, having for nearly two hours gazed very attentively upon nothing but incurable old women of every possible description, I think it more than possible my erring vision, on suddenly beholding a young woman, altogether over-estimated the intrinsic value of her appearance; and accordingly that her "transcendent beauty" might correctly be denominated mere fancy.

"Tutto il bello che voi àvete

E un' idéa che in noi si fa!"

My conductor, with a significant bow which seemed in some way or other to be indescribably connected, although very distantly, with my pocket and his own, now informed me "I had seen all." There immediately flashed across my memory the following lines:

him.

"As I was going to St. Ives,

I met seven wives;

Each wife had seven sacks;
Each sack had seven cats;

Each cat had seven kits.

Kits, cats, sacks, and wives

How many were there going to St. Ives?"

"How many incurable old women have I seen?" said I to

"He could not," he replied, "tell me exactly, but I could easily inform myself at the bureau;" so, after settling accounts with my friend, whose hand had scarcely left mine when he vanished I hardly know where, I walked into the office, where I was very obligingly informed that the number of aged inmates in the various buildings I had visited was 595; that on an average about 60 die off per annum; that there are, as as sistants in the establishment, 36 Sœurs de la Charité and 18 garçons." Of the former I feel it impossible to speak too highly. During my short residence in Paris, into whatever abode of poverty and misery I entered, whether for helpless

infancy, for those suffering under sickness, or from imbecile old age, there I found them intently occupied in doing good to their fellow-creatures. To say that all cannot be perfect is but to repeat the threadbare axiom of human nature. I deem it, however, only just to these good people to say that, in reply to several inquiries I made respecting them, of persons who I well know would willingly have scoffed at the high principles which guided the earthly career of these Sisters of Charity, I was invariably informed that the breath of slander, even in Paris, has not ventured to impeach the purity of their conduct. If this be true they are indeed objects of admiration and respect.

As my watch told me I should just have time enough to visit the Artesian well nearly a mile off, I was walking towards it about as fast as I could, when I suddenly stopped for a few seconds at the corner of la Rue Mayet, spell-bound by a picture, superscribed by the name of "Mme. Perez," and subscribed by the appellation, "Sage Femme."*

On attentively studying this painting, it appeared to be as follows-On rather a handsome chair was seated a lady dressed in a cap, with flowers for each cheek, and in a blue gown, the body of which half thrown aside disclosed the lady's bare neck and arms, from one of which, in a most beautiful arch, there was, into a quart basin beneath, flowing a stream of blood, from which a maid on her knees, in order to hold the basin, was averting her eyes and face. During the whole of this operation the arm of the lady in the cap and flowers and blue gown was firmly grasped by Mme. Perez," the "Sage Femme," a tall and exceedingly fashionable-looking young lady, dressed in a black gown, without any cap, and with long curls. The "wisdom" of the woman, the resignation of the lady, and the modesty of the maid, mixed all up together, formed as interesting a subject as poet could imagine, or as artist could desire to execute.

* Midwife.

6.

THE ARTESIAN WELL.

IN driving through the gay, beautiful streets, squares and boulevards of Paris, a stranger has every reason to believe that the capital he is admiring is singularly endowed from the laboratory of Nature not only with the purest description of air, but a superabundant supply of water, which from upwards of a hundred different fountains is to be seen, like fireworks of various names, furiously rushing, rising. streaming upwards, breaking, and then, in myriads of small particles, slowly descending in prismatic radiance to the earth from whence they sprang. Nevertheless. notwithstanding this magnificent outward demonstration, Paris is very poorly supplied with water; indeed, while the fountains of the city are gambolling, dancing, and revelling in the way I have described, lean horses and jaded donkeys, with drooping heads, are drawing carts full of this simple necessary of life, amounting in cost to four million francs per annum. A considerable number of houses, from top to bottom, are supplied with water from large barrels on wheels, which no sooner arrive at their doors than the donkeydriver going to the rear, is seen to pull out a plug, from which there instantly flows into a bright tin pail, which but a moment before he had placed at a considerable distance off, a stream of water that looks exactly like a very long semi-parabola of glass. As soon as one pail is full, with scarcely the loss of a drop it is replaced by another, and when that is filled and the plug stopped, both, suspended, fore and aft, across one shoulder on a short stick, are carried across the foot pavement, and up stairs to their destination, often the highest story of the house. With this uncomfortable fact sticking fast in the gizzard of my mind, I own I never passed a fountain in Paris without comparing it to the immense ring which in certain countries so often glitters on a very dirty forefinger, or to the flashy waistcoat and gaudy stock which are in every region occasionally to be seen blooming together over a rumpled shirt.