Pouchet was an intimate friend of Alfred de Musset and told me much about him. The poet had many fads inherited from the days of swords, pistols, snuff, and powdered hair. For instance, he would under no circumstances accept copper money; in fact, he would not touch the metal in any form. Toward the end of Musset’s life he frequented a certain café in Paris—used it as a club. He would go there to write his letters, read his paper, etc., and with him would be a quiet man in plain clothing whom you would not notice. At a certain time in the evening he would make a gesture to the waiter, who would serve him with two carafons—one of brandy and one of absinthe. He would pour them together in one glass and, looking at them, take out of his buttonhole his button of General of the Legion of Honor, and put it in his waistcoat. He would then down the mixture at once; the quiet man would approach and take him to his carriage. No one but a Frenchman could have done this; he would not get drunk as a member of the Legion! Sitting one time with Pouchet and a well-known authoress, discussing sex, he said: “You make a mistake, mademoiselle, there are four sexes. Male—Mr. Simmons; female—your charming self; neuter”—pointing to a stuffy judge way down the room; “and potentially male or female. This sex can be recognized by the human hair. It is long in the men and short in the women. Let us call it the professorial sex.” Women’s rights, divorce laws, etc., were then unknown in France, so this was quite an advanced idea. The last time I saw Pouchet was in New York. He was about sixty-three years old. We were lunching at the Players and I asked: “What brings you to America?” “To study the question of tonsils.” “Are American tonsils different from European?” I asked. “Oh no! We are interested in the tonsils of other mammals—of the whale.” Just before he went back to France I asked him what conclusion his investigation had brought forth. “A matter of great importance,” he answered. “The fact that the tonsil is of no importance.” I have since heard this disputed, but I thought it very interesting that these learned men should work so long and so hard for such a result. The British artists passed by Concarneau and went on to Pont Aven, where there were ready-made landscapes for the water-colorists. Truth to tell, they were frightened by the bigness of the coast and left it to the French and Americans, who formed a very happy crowd, all living at the Hotel des Voyageurs. There was Thaddeus Jones, who has since painted a portrait of the Pope; Alexander Harrison, the famous marine painter; Frank Chadwick; Howard Russell Butler; M. Brion; Emile Renouf; Paul Dubois, the sculptor; and Bastien Le Page. Bastien was the first in importance in the Concarneau older set, being almost the father of the Realistic movement. He was a quiet, well-bred person, swift at repartee, and could write as corking a letter to the press as Whistler.