Upon asking Bernard one day, as we were driving to Mount Kisco, to whom this place belonged, he said that he had forgotten the owner's name, but believed he was now in Europe; and it was not until quite recently that I ascertained it was the property of Mr. Elliott O. Cowdin, of New York City, Paris, or Westchester County. I really do not know which place to accredit to him as his residence. Yesterday Mr. Cowdin dined with us, and we had quite a merry time recalling our adventures upon leaving Paris in 1870. It was only three days before the battle of Sedan, when every one was rushing away from the doomed city, that we also decided to leave; and Mr. Cowdin was very kind in helping us off. We had many tribulations and delays in procuring our tickets, and having our luggage registered, for thousands were waiting in the Gare St. Lazare to escape from the range of Prussian shells; but between the energy of Mr. Cowdin and his servant Harry, and the talismanic name of Washburne (for our ambassador had kindly given us his card to present at the ticket and freight offices), we succeeded in running the blockade much easier than we had anticipated. Once in the waiting-room, we seated ourselves upon our bags, for every chair had been taken hours before, and waited for the twelve o'clock train. We sat patiently for an hour, and were then informed it would not start until six, for what reason we could not learn; for French officials can never be induced to give you any information. At the close of another hour, we were not only white with alarm, supposing the Prussians were at the city gates, but were also in a starving condition, having eaten nothing since our eight o'clock breakfast of chocolate and rolls. What to do we did not know; the doors of the waiting-room were closed, and despite the shrieks and frantic kicks of the terrified and penned-up passengers, no egress was permitted. Finally, our party of five helpless women decided to appeal to Mr. Cowdin, feeling confident that he would devise some means to relieve our forlorn condition. A piteous note was accordingly written, informing him that we should be prisoners until six o'clock, and appealing to his American chivalry to come and share our confinement with us, and to fetch some bread and butter, of which we stood sorely in need. Among the employees of the station a messenger was found, and in less than an hour Mr. Cowdin's friendly face was seen, as he made his way through the crowd, followed by the invaluable Harry with a basket. An impromptu table-cloth, consisting of newspapers, was spread upon the floor, and we gathered about our feast, the other passengers meantime eying us hungrily, as roast chicken, Bordeaux, and a four-pound loaf appeared from the basket.