Eusebe, absorbed in his reflections, walked nearly two hours, gazing to the right and left, without seeing any thing. Finally, he found himself, by accident, on the Place de la Bastille. Great was his astonishment when his eyes rested on the July Column. He could not imagine the utility of this immense tower of bronze. He would gladly have asked some questions of the passers-by, but his former experience deterred him. He approached the column and examined the inscriptions minutely. “This is very singular,” thought he. “Here is a monument erected to the memory of citizens who died for liberty. Is it possible that in 1830, at so recent a period, there were in France, the centre of civilization, persons who were opposed to liberty? This would seem to me improbable, if it were not engraved here. Are there, too, those who are so abandoned as to think of depriving us of our liberty, the greatest of blessings? This was a remarkable event, about which I shall know more so soon as I am able to read the historians of that period.” Hunger put a stop to Eusebe’s reflections on the liberties of the people. He walked on, glancing eagerly about, and hoping to see a signboard swinging in the wind and bearing that fallacious legend, “Here they give something to eat and drink,” such as he had seen on the rural roads. He had commenced to despair of finding what he sought, however, when the magic word “dinner” greeted his eyes. On closer inspection of the establishment where this promise was held out, he read,-- RESTAURANT BROCHONS. _Dîners à 2 francs; déjeuners à 1 franc 25._ Eusebe fairly sprang towards the door, but entered the place in a humble manner, and took a seat at the table nearest to the window, so that he might satisfy at the same time his stomach and his curiosity. “What will you have, monsieur?” inquired a waiter. “Whatever you please,” replied Eusebe. “Having been raised in the country, I am not difficult to please.” “After the soup, will monsieur have a beefsteak?” “As it pleases you.” “Oh, it is all the same to me. Would you prefer a kidney?” “I have no preference.” “A calf’s liver?” “It is a matter of indifference to me.” “To me also. We have, besides, cutlets, collops, fricasseed chicken, rabbits, partridges, roast chicken, mutton----” Eusebe caught the word cutlets, as the waiter ran rapidly through the bill of fare, and eagerly interrupted him with,-- “Give me a cutlet.” “How will you have it?” And the waiter again went into a catalogue of which Eusebe understood only the word “broiled.” “I will have it broiled,” he exclaimed. “Cutlet broiled! One!” exclaimed the waiter to the cook. “Here is a queer servant,” said the young provincial, _solus_. Having obtained the cutlet, he devoted himself to it with an appetite sharpened by abstinence and exercise. After the dish had been finished, the waiter again began to run over his bill of fare; but Eusebe interrupted him with,--