If our ungrateful temporary stepmother, France, did not know it, at least the waiters in the cafes, shopkeepers, and other people in the Latin Quarter were aware that Field and I were among the extremely small and select number of gentlemen who had operated at the barricades for the health of Freedom, and for some time we never entered a restaurant without hearing admiring exclamations from the respectful waiters of "_Ces sont les Americains_!" or "_Les Anglais_." And indeed, to a small degree, I even made a legendary local impression; for a friend of mine who went from Philadelphia to Paris two years later, reported that I was still in the memory of the Quarter as associated with the Revolution and life in general. One incident was indeed of a character which French students would not forget. I had among my many friends, reputable and demi-reputable, a rather remarkable _lorette_ named Maria, whose face was the very replica of that of the Laughing Faun of the Louvre--or, if one can conceive it, of a very pretty "white nigger." This young lady being either _ennuyee_ or frightened by the roar of musketry--probably the former--and knowing that I was a Revolutionist and at work, conceived the eccentric idea of hiring a coach, just when the fighting was at the worst, and driving over from the Rue Helder to visit me. Which she actually did. When she came to a barricade, she gave five francs to the champions of liberty, and told them she was bearing important political orders to one of their leaders. Then the warriors would unharness the horses, lift the carriage and beasts somehow over the barricade, re-harness, hurrah, and "_Adieu_, _madame_! _Vive la liberte_!" And so, amid bullets and cheers, and death-stroke, and powder-smoke--_hinc et inde mors et luctus_--Maria came to my door in a carriage, and found me out with a vengeance--for I was revelling at the time in the royal halls of the Bourbons, or at least drinking wine out of a tin pail in the guard- house, whereby I escaped the expense of a truffled champagne dinner at Magny's--while the young lady was about fifty francs out of pocket by her little drive, probably the only one taken that day in Paris. But she had a fearfully jolly time of it, and saw the way that guns were fired to perfection. This, too, became one of the published wonders of the day, and a local legend of renown. Of course all these proceedings put an end to lectures and study for the time. Then Mr. Goodrich, our Consul, as I have before said, organised a deputation of Americans in Paris to go and congratulate the new _Gouvernement Provisoire_ on the new Republic, of which I was one, and we saw all the great men, and Arago made us a speech. Unfortunately all the bankers stopped paying money, and I had to live principally on credit, or sailed rather close to it, until I could write to my father and get a draft on London.