There certainly never was such a boy to take in everything around him, and to remember what he saw. With mind alert for all that was to be learned he tagged along at Mr. Cabot's heels drinking in and storing away every scrap of history and of beauty which came across his path. And in Paris he found much of both. The Invalides with the tomb of Napoleon; Notre Dame with its odd gargoyles; the Arc de Triomphe; the Bois; and the Champs-Elysees shaded by pink horse-chestnut trees--all these sights were new and marvelous to the Italian lad. But it was Versailles with its gardens that charmed him and Jean most. The travelers arrived there on a Sunday, when the fountains were playing, flowers blooming everywhere, and a gay crowd of sightseers thronging the walks. It was like fairy-land. The great Neptune fountain sent into the air a sheet of spray which was quickly caught up by the sunlight and transformed into a misty rainbow. Within the palace, amid old tapestries of battles and hunting scenes, and surrounded by paintings and statues, were the famous early French mirrors of which Giusippe had previously spoken. Mr. Cabot pointed them out, half playfully, half seriously. "Perhaps on further consideration I will leave them," returned the boy, falling in with the spirit of the elder man's mood. "They seem to fit the spaces, and I doubt if even our Venetian mirrors could look better here." "I think it might be just as well," answered Mr. Cabot. "Besides, you must remember that those mirrors were not the only sort of glass the French made. There were many enamel workers at Provence as early as 1520, and later much cast glass instead of that which is blown came from France. In fact, up to a hundred years ago the French held the plate glass monopoly. Then England took up glass-making and cut into the French market--the same old story of stealing the trade, you see. In addition to other varieties of glass-making some of the finest and most interesting of the old stained glass was made by the French people, and can now be seen in the church of St. Denis, just out of Paris, and at Sainte Chapelle which is within the city itself. Fortunately the glass at St. Denis escaped the fury of the French revolutionists, as it might not have done had it not been at a little distance from Paris. There is also glass of much the same sort at Poitiers, Bourges, and Rheims. Amiens, too, has wonderful glass windows. I hope before we leave for home we shall have a peep at some if not all of these." "Isn't much beautiful French glass now made at Nancy, Mr. Cabot?" Giusippe inquired. "Yes, some of the finest comes from there." "But didn't any other people beside the Venetians and the French make glass, Uncle Bob?" asked Jean, much interested.