for an indefinite period. When there are two chameleons on the same rope, the sight becomes most transcendentally ridiculous. Spleen itself would die of laughter on seeing the horrible looks of the ugly brutes when they meet. I was exceedingly anxious to provide myself with the means of indulging in this amusement when I returned to France, and accordingly bought a couple of these amiable animals, which I put in a cage. But they caught cold during the passage, and died of disease of the lungs, on our arrival at Porte Vendres. They had dwindled completely away, and their poor little anatomical system peeped out from their shrunken and wrinkled skin. Some few days later, the announcement of a bull-fight--the last, alas! that I was destined to witness--caused me to return to Jeres. The circus at Jeres is very handsome and very capacious, and is not without a certain monumental appearance. It is built of brick, faced at the sides with stone, which produces a pleasing effect. There was an immense, motley, variegated, ever-moving crowd, and an endless flourishing of fans and handkerchiefs. In the middle of the arena was a stake with a kind of little platform upon the top. On this platform was crouched a monkey, dressed up as a troubadour, making faces and licking his chaps. He was fastened by a tolerably long chain, which allowed him to describe a pretty large circle, of which the stake formed the centre. When the bull entered, the first object that attracted his attention was the monkey upon his perch. A most amusing comedy followed. The furious animal commenced butting violently against the stake, and shook our friend the monkey in a terrible fashion. The latter was in an awful state of alarm, which he expressed by the most irresistibly comic grimaces. Sometimes, being unable to hold on to his plank, although he grasped it with his four paws, he actually fell upon the bull's back, where he stuck with all the energy of despair. The hilarity of the public knew no bounds, and fifteen thousand smiles lighted up all the swarthy faces around. But the comedy was succeeded by a tragedy. A poor negro helper, who was carrying a basket filled with fine earth to sprinkle over the pools of blood, was attacked by the bull, whom he imagined was occupied somewhere else, and thrown up twice into the air. He lay stretched out upon the ground, motionless and lifeless. The _chulos_ came and waved their cloaks before the bull, and drew him off to another part of the arena, in order that the negro's body might be carried away. He passed close to me; two _mozos_ were carrying him by the head and legs. I remarked a singular fact; from black he had become dark blue, which is apparently the tint that negroes assume when they turn pale. This circumstance did not interrupt the proceedings. _Nada; es un mozo_; "It is nothing, he is only a black;" such was the funeral oration of the poor African. But if the human spectators were indifferent to his death, the case was different