The next day after my arrival I called on the American Ambassador, Mr. Porter, in relation to my exequator, to be issued by the French Government. It is a recognition of status, and a formal permit from one nation to another to allow their respective Consuls to exercise the duties appertaining thereto and a guarantee of protection in their performance. Had a very cordial reception from Mr. J. R. Gowdy, our Consul at Paris. Visited the Paris office of the New York Herald, where many files of American and European papers can be perused. A visit to the "Louvre" is a joy for the layman, as for the connoisseur, galleries a mile or more in length hung with paintings grand in imagery and beauty of old masters, French and Italian, centuries old. Many showed the silent, slow and impressive steps of age. But "you may break, you may scatter the vase if you will, the scent of the roses will linger there still," for on shrunken canvas or from luster dimmed was imperial tone of materialized conception "not born to die." Among the guests of the hotel were two gentlemen, one an American capitalist, the other a German merchant from Berlin, the latter speaking French like a native. We became pleasant companions, and concluded on Sunday evening to go to the "Follies Bergere"--in American parlance a variety theater. Ten minutes' drive brought us to a very large building, lighted as if by sunlight, where a hundred finely-dressed men and women crowded for entrance. Outside of what we term pit and dress circle is a partition, three or four feet high, dividing them from a promenade ten or fifteen feet wide. You can stand or sit in this promenade, and see the performance. Our friends suggested this plan, as we could see and hear more of Parisian peculiarities. Here many very beautiful women promenaded. They had evidently been touched by artists, for their make-up was superb. But I could not but think of the refrain of a song we have all heard, "Oh, but what a difference in the morning." They had sweet, pretty sayings, clothed in all the softness of modulation and earnestness of gesture of the French people. My American friend, like myself, was Frenchless, and as a consequence invulnerable. The appearance of the occupants of the front row of seats very forcibly reminded me of a similar locality at the Capital Theater in the City of Roses, on similar occasions, where many of my old friends with gaze intent loved to congregate. The performance was spectacular and acrobatic, with usual evolutions, with more "abandon" and very artistic. Passing through the cafe, where hundreds of finely-dressed men and women were sitting at tables quietly talking, smoking and drinking wine or coffee, we passed to the street.