M. P----, the gentleman who was walking beside me when I stopped, confirmed my opinion that it was a likeness, by his personal knowledge of the original; and it was not difficult to perceive, though he spoke but little on the subject, that an affectionate feeling for "THE CAUSE" and its young hero was at his heart. M. de L----, the other gentleman who had joined our party, was walking behind us, and came up as I was making my purchase. He smiled. "I see what you are about," said he: "if you and P---- continue to walk together, I am sure you will plot some terrible treason before you get to the Luxembourg." When we were seated in the Tuileries Gardens, M. de L---- renewed his attack upon me for what he called my seditious conduct in having encouraged the vender of a prohibited article, and declared that he thought he should but do his duty if he left M. P---- and myself in safe custody among the other rebellious characters at the Luxembourg. "My sedition," replied M. P----, "is but speculative. The best among us now can only sigh that things are not quite as they should be, and be thankful that they are not quite as bad as they might be." "I rejoice to find that you allow so much, mon cher," replied his friend. "Yes, I think it might be worse; par exemple, if such gentry as those yonder were to have their way with us." He looked towards three youths who were stalking up the walk before us with the air of being deeply intent on some business of dire import. They looked like walking caricatures--and in truth they were nothing else. They were republicans. Similar figures are constantly seen strutting upon the Boulevards, or sauntering, like those before us, in the Tuileries, or hovering in sinister groups about the Bois de Boulogne, each one believing himself to bear the brow of a Brutus and the heart of a Cato. But see them where or when you will, they take good care to be unmistakable; there is not a child of ten years old in Paris who cannot tell a republican when he sees him. In several print-shops I have seen a key to their mystical toilet which may enable the ignorant to read them right. A hat, whose crown if raised for a few inches more would be conical, is highest in importance, as in place; and the shade of Cromwell may perhaps glory in seeing how many desperate wrongheads still mimic his beaver. Then come the long and matted locks, that hang in heavy ominous dirtiness beneath it. The throat is bare, at least from linen; but a plentiful and very disgusting profusion of hair supplies its place. The waistcoat, like the hat, bears an immortal name--"GILET À LA ROBESPIERRE" being its awful designation; and the extent of its wide-spreading lapels is held to be a criterion of the expansive principles of the wearer. _Au reste_, a general air of grim and savage blackguardism is all that is necessary to make up the outward man of a republican of Paris in 1835.