THE national egotism that characterizes the French mind is not without its compensations. It leads, for example, to the tangible recognition of the merits of the great men of the nation and to the promulgation of their names in many public ways. Thus it would be hard to mention a truly distinguished Frenchman of the older generations whose name has not been given to a street in Paris. Of the men of science thus honored, one recalls off-hand the names of Buffon, Cuvier, Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, Pinel, Esquirol, Lamarck, Laplace, Lavoisier, Arago, Claude Bernard, Broca--indeed, one could readily extend the list to tiresome dimensions. Moreover, it is a list that is periodically increased by the addition of new names, as occasion offers, for the Parisian authorities never hesitate to rechristen a street or a portion of a street, regardless of former associations. One of the most recent additions to this roll of fame is the name of Pasteur. The boulevard that bears that famous name is situated in a somewhat out-of-the-way corner of the city, though to reach it one has but to traverse the relatively short course of the Avenue de Breteuil from so central a position as the tomb of Napoleon. The Boulevard Pasteur itself is a not long but very spacious thoroughfare, which will some day be very beautiful, when the character of its environing buildings has somewhat changed and its quadruple rows of trees have had time for development. At present its chief distinction, in the eyes of most observers, would probably be found in the fact that it is the location of the famous _fête forain_ at one of the annually recurring stages of the endless itinerary of that noted function. During the period of this distinction, which falls in the month of May, the boulevard becomes transformed into a veritable Coney Island of merry-go-rounds, shooting-galleries, ginger-bread booths, and clap-trap side-shows, to the endless delight of throngs of pleasure-seekers. There is no sight in all Paris worthier inspection for the foreigner than the Boulevard Pasteur offers at this season, for one gains a deep insight into the psychology of a people through observation of the infantile delight with which the adult population here throws itself into the spirit of amusements which with other nations are for the most part reserved for school-children. Only a race either in childhood or senescence, it would seem, could thus give itself over with undisguised delight to the enchantments of wooden horses, cattle, cats, and pigs; to the catching of wooden fish with hooks; to the shooting at targets that one could almost touch with the gun-muzzle, and to the grave observation of sideshow performances that would excite the risibilities of the most unsophisticated audience that could be found in the Mississippi Valley.