Between us we missed little. On the one hand the heart of the masses affected us. Once we bought bread of a struggling baker hard by the famous abbey of St. Denis. We asked for a cup of water to drink with it,--"But Messieurs will not drink water!" he cried, and rushed in his generosity for his poor bottle of wine.--My French-Canadian countrymen, that was a trait of yours! I remember too,--when my shoe hurt me and I limped badly one evening along the Avenue of the Bois,--the numbers of men and women who said to one another: "O, le pauvre jeune homme." Ye world-wide Pharisees, erring Paris cannot be so deeply wicked while its heart flows so much goodness! But the enthusiasms will run away with my story. Resolutely, _revenons_. While Quinet, the positive pole of our expedition, was ever edging our march towards his Bastille Column and his cut-throat Quartier Montmartre, I, the negative; drew it a little into more polished circles where wit and talent sparkled. The Vicomte D'Haberville, a French d'Argentenaye, took us to a reception--not too proud of us I daresay, for the gloss of his shoes and the magnificence of his cravat outshone us as the sleek skin of a race-horse does a country filly. Especially did he eye Quinet a little coldly, so that I could scarcely persuade the proud fellow to come. To the astonishment of the Vicomte, however, Quinet was the attraction of the evening. Taine and Thiers were there, and fired by a remark from one of these his famous men, the young Radical had ventured a clever saying. Thiers looked at him a sharp glance as he heard the accent: "Vous etes des Provinces, monsieur?" "No, sir--from New France." "We had once,--in America--a colony of the name," replied the statesman, reflecting. "France has it still. It is a colony of hearts!" Quinet awakened interest; was inquired into and drawn out, and we were invited to a dozen of the most interesting salons of the capital. O but those Parisians are clever! Why is it they are so much more brilliant than we? Perhaps because there intellect is honored. Quickly, through these surroundings, our knowledges and tastes advanced--Quinet's verging to the path of social science--mine to an artistic sense which suddenly unfolded into life and became my chief delight. The enthusiasm for Paris gradually led me to another offer by Life of a Highest Thing. To say it shortly--the salons led to a pleasure in the artistic, the society of artists to a growing appreciation of fine works of skill, and these, to Italy and Rome.