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priest, whom we found intelligent and communicative. I accompanied him to the tower of the church, up which we climbed upon a slender ladder. In it he had a fine collection of books, and there taught a school for the instruction of young men, who were to go as missionaries to Abyssinia. We were exceedingly interested in the aged man, and touched by his enthusiastic piety. His life was one of self-sacrifice, for not the slightest appearance of comfort existed in his miserable home; and yet I have never seen more perfect content and happiness expressed in a human face, or heard words more full of gratitude to God.

We passed several hours upon the Mount Chrischona, gazing upon the beautiful scenery, and then descended the steep mountain-path to our carriage. In returning we made a detour, which brought us to the Swiss Thermopyla, the Battle-Field of St. Jacob, where sixteen hundred Swiss attacked just as many thousand French soldiers, under the command of the Dauphin (who was afterwards Louis Eleventh). Only ten Swiss survived the combat of ten hours, and they were disgraced in the eyes of their countrymen. Louis, deeply touched by the wondrous courage of the bold mountaineers, made peace with them, and selected a bodyguard of Swiss soldiers. Hence has arisen the custom of many of the monarchs of Europe. They make choice of them as the most true and faithful people upon earth. They trust their lives with them when they fear their own subjects. I suppose, from this unfaltering truth comes the proverb, "As faithful as a Swiss."

Basle is a walled town, divided into two portions by the Rhine, which is crossed by a splendid bridge. It has an air of great bustle and commerce. German is much spoken. We met a person, who inquired if we knew Seatsfield, who wrote the "Western Scenes of America," descriptive of

pioneer life. He told us he now lived at the Falls of the Rhine, upon the fortune he made from those books. They were written in German, and translated into English, and I well remember years ago the pleasure I derived from reading them, and the oft-repeated question in the public journals, "Who is Seatsfield ?" This friend of his told us he was a bold, wild young German, eager for adventure, who passed years on the borders of civilized life, among the Indians and the pioneers. When he wearied of the excitement he returned to Germany, and wrote out his experiences in the New World. They had the fresh ring of new and novel existence, and their success was wonderful. Translated into English and republished in America, they made a "decided sensation."

We left Basle at four o'clock, and passed along another railway to Strasbourg. The route lay between two chains. of mountains, and was very lovely. There were thousands and thousands of vineyards almost to the summit of the mountains. At nine we were at the "Maison Rouge," where we tarried all night and until twelve the next day, when we started for Paris in "Train de Vitesse" (the express). The railway is excellent, so smoothly gliding, we felt no fatigue though the distance was three hundred and twelve miles, in ten hours. The country was highly picturesque, mountains succeeding mountains, covered to their topmost peaks by the luxuriant vines. Then we passed also many handsome cities and villages. We dined at Nancy, and stopped at Epernay, where the best Champagne is made; there are multitudes of long tunnels piercing the mountain's side and passing through dark caverns, hollowed out by art.

At ten o'clock we were at Paris. Then came the delay of visiting the baggage and examining the passports. Soon all was ended, and away through the radiant Boulevards to

Hotel Meurice. "No rooms," was the reply; so we were compelled to mount to the sixth story of the Hotel Windsor, near by. I fancied I was most terribly fatigued by this ascent until a package of letters was brought in. Oh! what a glow of joy ran like an electric thrill through all my frame, giving warmth and life to the weary limbs, and banishing all thought of sleep-all desire for repose. With hands trembling with eagerness, the seals were torn asunder, and no word spoken till the assurance met the eyes that they, our loved ones at home, were well. Ah! then how fervently from the deep heart came up the grateful "Thank God !" It is impossible to describe the delight of thus receiving tidings, after a long absence and long delay. Our letters had not followed us in our wanderings, but had been kept here waiting our return. Ere we had finished reading them it was almost morning. So we threw ourselves upon our beds, and sought the sweet repose we so much needed.

VOL, I.-7*

CHAPTER XIX.

AGAIN we are in Paris-joy-inspiring Paris; more gay, more sparkling than ever. The city is thronged, for the fête day of Napoléon is near at hand, and thousands are already here to witness the wonders of the illumination.

The days since our return have been delightfully occupied, and the evenings spent at theatres, operas, or dinner parties. Then we have driven several times in the Bois de Boulogne with our handsome, dashing young countryman, de Yampert, who has an elegant equipage, with splendid horses. He is most cordially kind to his compatriots, and yesterday we all assisted (as the French say) at a magnificent dinner given by him to a circle of Americans at the Café de Paris. The appointments of the table were in perfect taste—the decorations of superb bouquets, most exquisite. Of the dinner, I need only say, it was worthy of the French cuisine. Around the festive board we all grew patriotic, and many glowing toasts to "those we love" in our far-away home, and to America, were drank in "brimming bumpers." Among the guests was a young Italian, who, after we retired to the drawing-room, quite enchanted us with the delicious music of his native land, which he sang with a voice of rich melody There was a shade of sadness in his manner which

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won our sympathy; immensely increased when we learned from our gallant Southron friend that Love had made the lustrous-eyed singer a wanderer from his home and kindred.

Two Days in Paris.-For weeks Paris has seemed to have but one heart, beating in joyous anticipation of the coming fêtes. August the 15th was the Fête Day of Napoléon the Great, and also that of the present Emperor. To give greater éclat to the spectacle, it was determined there should be a grand review on the 14th, and thus usher in the "Day of the Illuminations." On Sunday morning (August 14th), we accompanied our charming friends, Mr. and Mrs. Pierpont, of New York, to a delightful parlor they had rented on the Champs Elysées, whence we commanded an admirable view of the grand avenue. Although the hour was very early, the streets were thronged, and presented from our windows the appearance of a vast ocean of human heads. By eleven, the cavalry, under the command of General Korte, formed a double line on either side of the Champs Elysées, beginning at the "Arch of Triumph," and extending to the "Gardens of the Tuileries." The soldiers were splendidly mounted and equipped; their uniforms were of gorgeous colors, and their drawn swords flashed brightly in the morning sunlight. At one, the Empress drove down the avenue; a guard of honor preceded her, while Marshal St. Arnaud rode by the side of the open caleche, in which she was seated with the Princess Matilde and the Duchess d'Albe. The Empress is a beautiful, fair, delicate woman, with an expression of exquisite sweetness and genial kindness. She was attired in a dress of India muslin covered with fleecy clouds of Brussels lace, and a bonnet of white adorned with roses and buds. She bowed most graciously as she passed along, and there was such a grace in her manner, I am sure there were but few who did not heartily exclaim, "Vive l'Imperatrice!"