I have been looking to-day at a short account published here: "Sur les soixante-dix serviteurs mis à mort pour la foi en Chine, en Tong-King, et en Cochin-Chine, déclarés vénérables par notre S. Père le Pape Gregoire XVI." It is a wonderful history: the deeds and sufferings of the early Church exactly reproduced in our own times. These martyrs were even more savagely tortured than those of old by the Romans. And some of them are only four or five years older than oneself, some of them natives of China, younger; so that while I have wasted my days in vanity, others, sharers of this same flesh and blood, have entered the noble army of martyrs. And if charity dispenses the place of the redeemed in the mansions on high, near to their Lord assuredly will be their place, who passed from the midst of a deceiving and voluptuous civilisation, unstained and unallured, into the midst of a population lying in the valley of the shadow of death; low, grovelling, filthy in mind and body, and this to save some souls, if it might be, out of that otherwise condemned mass. It would seem as if out of corruption at its worst degree the highest, purest, and most self-denying charity were to go forth, to show that God's arm is not shortened, and that we might be, if we would, all that the martyrs of old were. Moreover, the people of Cochin China are naturally of a peculiarly timid disposition; yet many have been found to emulate the courage of European priests and bishops, in bearing the most prolonged torments and trials. What a horrible thing does it seem, that we should be practically taught, that the system which produces these men is such a corruption of God's revelation as is but a step removed, if removed at all, from idolatry. Walked about the gardens of the Tuileries and through the Boulevards this evening: the population of Paris seems to pour itself out with delight here; and no wonder, for what great city has so pleasing a place of recreation for all classes, not the great and rich merely, as the gardens of the Tuileries. To me especially they bring back long past years. But I don't at all like being alone in this Babylon. _Friday, July 28._--I met the Bishop of Langres and a party, who went over Gerente's painted glass manufactory, 13. Quai d'Anjou. He seems to have reached the colours of old glass, and showed us the process by which all the appearance of antiquity is given to new glass. By means of acids he produces imperfections in glass which was smooth and clear; thus heightening the tone of other parts. Even chemists have been unable to discern the difference between two pieces of glass, one ancient and one modern. He said ---- was a humbug; Waille was the best English worker, but Hardman would be so soon.