We sailed on the famed _Pereire_ from New York to Brest in May, 1869. We had not left port before a droll incident occurred. On the table in the smoking-room lay a copy of the "Ballads of Hans Breitmann." A fellow- passenger asked me, "Is that your book?" I innocently replied, "Yes." "Excuse me, sir," cried another, "it is _mine_." "I beg your pardon," I replied, "but it is really mine." "Sir, I _bought_ it." "I don't care if you did," I replied; "it is mine--for I wrote it." There was a roar of laughter, and we all became acquainted at once. General Washburne was among the passengers. He had been appointed Minister to France and was going to Paris, where he subsequently distinguished himself during the siege by literally taking the place of seven foreign Ministers who had left, and kindly caring for all their _proteges_. It never occurred to the old frontiersman to leave a place or his duties because fighting was going on. I had a fine twelve-feet blue Indian blanket, which I had bought somewhere beyond Leavenworth of a trader. When sitting on deck wrapped in it, the General would finger a fold lovingly, and say, "Ah! the Indians always have good blankets!" We arrived in Brest, and Mrs. Leland, who had never before been in Europe, was much pleased at her first sight, early in the morning, of a French city; the nuns, soldiers, peasants, and all, as seen from our window, were indeed very picturesque. We left that day by railway for Paris, and on the road a rather remarkable incident occurred. There was seated opposite to us a not very amiable-looking man of thirty, who might be of the superior class of mechanics, and who evidently regarded us with an evil eye, either because we were suspected _Anglais_ or aristocrats. I resolved that he should become amicable. Ill-tempered though he might be, he was still polite, for at every stopping-place he got out to smoke, and extinguished his cigar ere he re-entered. I said to him, "Madame begs that you will not inconvenience yourself so much--pray continue to smoke in here." This melted him, as it would any Frenchman. Seeing that he was reading the _Rappel_, I conversed "liberally." I told him that I had been captain of barricades in Forty-eight, and described in full the taking of the Tuileries. His blood was fired, and he confided to me all the details of a grand plot for a Revolution which he was going up to Paris to attend to, and offered me a prominent place among the conspirators, assuring me that I should have a glorious opportunity to fight again at the barricades! I was appalled at his want of discretion, but said nothing. Sure enough, there came the _emeute_ of the plebiscite, as he had predicted, but it was suppressed. George Boker wrote to me: "When I heard of a revolution in Paris, I knew at once that you must have arrived and had got to work." And when I told him that I knew of it in advance, and had had a situation offered me as leader, he