Monday evening.... At three o’clock I went to the Institute. I found that the room was already crowded. I inquired for Jussieu and Brongniart, the only members I could think of that I knew, but they were not there and therefore I could not get in. After some time Jussieu came in. But it was then too late, so I lost the object for which I had given up half the day. Jussieu, however, took me into the library, which is worth seeing. I employed the remaining hour or so in purchasing some prints of remarkable buildings, etc., in Paris, and I was also tempted to buy a few engravings from some of the great masters. After dinner I went to Mr. Webb’s, where I looked at plants for a few hours. He gave me also some autographs of celebrated botanists, and a few old botanical books.... Friday evening, March 29.... The Garden of Plants was nearly on my way home; so I stopped there, worked for an hour (till five o’clock), went home (home, indeed!), took my dinner, found myself most thoroughly tired as well as hungry, having had no breakfast but a small roll of bread I obtained near the cemetery; had a fire kindled in my room, and commenced writing to you. Just now the little daughter of the concierge, a little girl of six or seven, who often waits upon me, has brought me a cup of coffee, which I have enjoyed greatly, and now feel much restored. French children are all pretty and graceful, and I am making the little girl’s acquaintance as fast as I can; for it is difficult for me to understand her (it seems odd to hear such a little thing speak French), and in answer to some of my attempts to speak French to her, she answers, “Je n’entends pas anglais, monsieur.” What great lies the French newspapers tell! Yesterday morning the paper I was reading at my breakfast stated that one of the gardeners who had charge of the bears at the Jardin des Plantes descended into the inclosure for some purpose, and was seized by the bears, killed immediately, and almost eaten up before help was obtained. So when I arrived at the garden I of course spoke to Decaisne about it, who was greatly surprised, for it seems the story was entirely a fabrication. I see I have at length filled this large sheet, so I must say adieu for the present, but hope to-morrow evening to begin another. Ever I remain, Your attached, A. G.... TO MRS. TORREY.