After that Mrs. Shurtleff took me to do an errand--and I saw Paris for the first time. I think that the Seine, and the bridges, and lines of straight trees are the most beautiful things I've ever seen. We looked up the Champs Élysées as the sun was setting and the lights were beginning to twinkle through a violet haze. It was like a dream city. I sat on the extremest edge of the seat in the taxi gazing and gazing at everything. Mrs. Shurtleff delighted in my delight, and she said it made her live again the enthusiasm and wonder that she felt when she came here ten years ago. So many queer things I noticed that she grew used to years ago; the door-handles in the middle of the doors, the lamp-posts in the middle of the sidewalks, and funny quaint little things like that. We saw a trolley-car marked "Bastille," and I burst out laughing. Why, it seemed like marking the ugliest, most ordinary or modern thing "Guillotine" or "Robespierre"! Think of getting a transfer or "watching your step" going to the Bastille. I went to the Vestiaire yesterday morning where I am to work. It is wonderfully interesting. All kinds of clothing are piled everywhere and there is an office where people apply, and everything is very business-like. The refugees are pathetic to the last degree, and already I have seen many, many people, and heard of cases, that I couldn't believe existed in the world. I haven't done any real work yet; but here is something I want to tell you. We need everything, particularly warm things, blankets; and big wide shoes above everything. I saw men turn away some people to-day, and I tell you I'd like to snatch these bedclothes out of the hotel and go find old people and give them to them. But any kind of clothes! I saw a pile of sticks, about a hundred, stored in the corner, and I asked Mrs. Shurtleff what they were for and she said for the blind. They can't afford to buy them. Think of being blinded and then not being able to afford a few pennies to buy a cane. I find that Paris is much more alive and happy than I had expected, although the individual cases are so very hard. I have decided on my pension, and I like Mme. H----. My room certainly is comfort itself, for Paris, with lovely sunlight and trees and a park below. I move in November 4th, and I am glad to have it settled. Living is so expensive that many of the best pensions have had to close, so I feel I am wonderfully lucky. Yesterday afternoon I covered about twelve acres of streets and buildings in fulfilling various official formalities, and now call all the prefects of police by their first names. I had no trouble, but it is tedious to go from one place to another. My official title on the Paris register is now "Demoiselle de Vestiaire," and as that can refer both to relief work and to check girls in restaurants, I can give up one any time for the other. [Illustration: Women's Vestiaire] [Illustration: Men's Vestiaire]