The difference in the way a Frenchman regards the question of morality and religion makes a barrier which is not often bridged. The truly sympathetic friendship between the Anglo-Saxon and the Frenchman is the exception, and not the rule. In this way the American and English in a foreign land draw closer together, and consider themselves very much as one family, with the same tastes and sympathies, while they regard in quite a different light those they call “foreigners,” though they may be living in that “foreigners’” land, and would be quite offended if the term were applied to them. We made many friends among the Americans, and we can never think of our life in Paris as separate from those dear ones. Indeed, the house which my family and I have come to regard as a second home, and where the welcome is always that of a kind sister, belongs to an American who was, and is still, one of the most regular attendants at the English Church. I cannot too often testify to the liberality of the Americans in Paris in helping the British poor. They were ready at all times to give of their money and time for this purpose, and I cannot remember a single instance when I appealed in vain for their aid. At a large working party formed for making clothes for the British poor, we had not only the attendance of many Americans, but the beautiful and commodious rooms of the Hotel Powers were lent to us free of charge by their American owner. When we had bazaars for the Church, several stalls were taken by Americans, and at concerts given for charitable purposes it was in many cases to the American Colony we owed both the talent which attracted the large attendance, and also the results we generally obtained. Perhaps one of the most notable of the American millionaires when I first went to Paris was Mrs. Ayer. She was almost mobbed when she went out on account of her wonderful jewels, which represented a large fortune. I have seen people standing on chairs in a drawing-room to get a better sight of her—or of them! Indeed, royalty could hardly compete in notoriety with this little old lady. Mrs. Astor in her beautiful flat in the Champs Elysées (which she called only a little “pied-à-terre”) gave most enjoyable soirées, and her beautiful manners added not a little to the pleasure of her guests. She had the great charm of making no difference in her welcome, whether the guest was a prince or a poor curate, and one went away with the delightful feeling that you were the person she had most wished to see, and you had given her much pleasure by your presence! The late Mrs. Warden-Pell also entertained a good deal, and she often, at her afternoon receptions, when great artists delighted her audience, gave young students an opportunity of being heard—an opportunity which was worth a great deal to them, and which they were not slow to appreciate.