colourless, squinting man yonder, has not half the sunshine of soul as his neighbour of the ruddy cheek and genial smile, and yet their intellects are equal. One, with selfish heart, moulders in the four walls of his cheerless home; while the other expands his mind by free intercourse with his fellow-man, and, by so doing, benefits not only himself, but others, by the value of his own communicated experience. Next to this selfishness of solitude, we pity a large class of people that seem to be yearly increasing; we mean those externally politic persons who do not make a solitary move in the great game of life, unless it redounds, directly or indirectly, to their own personal advancement. We do not mean to urge that all of what the world calls policy should be discarded and thrown aside. By no means. A certain quantity enters into the elements of prudence; but the more we see of the human family the more numerous we find these strangers to disinterested goodness, who fawn and cringe to power, and neglect, ay, insult merit, that has not, by the force of time and experience, yet been able to mount its proper pedestal.

But merely mentioning the fact that we are no friend of solitude, has led us into a train of thought, which, when our fingers clasped the quill, we had no idea of expressing. We are about to relate an anecdote that fell under our notice in Paris, or rather, we should say, an adventure, as we were a party interested. On our first visit to the gay capital of the French we were quite companionless, and the prospect of strolling over the curious city solus, with no friend to share the wild but languidlypleasing impressions of the strange sights that we everywhere encountered, was anything but cheering. We strolled up down the Boulevards, admired the shop-windows, looked after the flower-girls, listened to the harpists, wondered at the numbers of gend'armes, gazed at the nuns, and visited the hundreds of objects of interest; but yet we experienced the oppressiveness of estrangement from all friends or companions. When we wandered through the elaborate halls of the Louvre, for example, we wanted to say a thousand things about the gorgeous

and

works of art that silently, but magnificently, shone resplendent in artistic beauty from every wall. We went to Père la Chaise, and saw the tombs of Abelard and Heloise, Bellini, David, Marshal Ney, Talma, and a host of others of undying fame and greatness. The serenity and mournful character of this spot were favourable to the quiet thoughtfulness of solitude; and when we saw piles of massive marble reflecting back the light, over the graves of men whose only claim to notice was wealth, while there was scarce a stone to mark the remains of the brave and gallant Ney, an impulse stole over us that led us to exclaim, with Byron,

As it is our custom, when we travel, to carry a note-book, we found a species of melancholy pleasure in transcribing the inscriptions from various monuments, of men who had distinguished themselves for learning, chivalry, or high attainment în art; and while copying a curious couplet from a quaint, defaced, old-fashioned stone, in a far-off corner of the cemetery, our surprise was considerably awakened by receiving a familiar, and almost recognizable touch on the shoulder from some one behind. We were bending on one knee, in order to decipher the singular lines, and could not see who had thus suddenly come upon us, but, raising on foot, discovered, much to our delight, an old (or rather a young) friend and countryman, a brave, merry-hearted, excellent youngster, who, like ourself, we discovered had come to Paris in quest of amusement, and to take back all the information that he could consistently cram into his noddle. Our accidental meeting was as warm as it was casual; and as he also had arrived in the city quite alone, the renewed companionship promised well, and acceptable on either side. We quitted the city of the dead," and taking an omnibus soon found ourselves in the neighbourhood of the Palais Royal, at a restaurant, in which we dined well and deliberately, enjoying staccato, an exhilarating chat about our impressions, and other

et cæteras, which strange objects in a strange country are apt to suggest.

Our lodgment was in a neat, retired little dwelling-house, on the Rue Richelieu, just off the Boulevard Italiens, and in the immediate proximity to the celebrated Hotel de Paris, a prominent locality for young Americans. After the arrival of our friend it was almost our daily habit to drop in at the courtyard of this hotel to see if any friends had left the smoke of London for the more balmy sunshine of Paris; and then the femme de charge, who was a little Swiss specimen of feminine plumptitude, had such a bewitching dimple in her chin, and talked English with such an unconsciously fascinating accent, that the Hotel de Paris seemed to possess an interest wholly uncommon. A week had not elapsed, when one day, as we were lounging in the vestibule, where Lolette had been showing us a roll of dainty taffetas and a box of cheap bijoux (which an ardent admirer had sent her, accompanied by an intensely sentimental billet, the day before), a stylish coupé drove into the court-yard, from which descended three young gentlemen, all dressed scrupulously in white, with Ascot caps, and blue ribbons in their vests. We knew them at once. They were medical students from Virginia, living in Paris, but who were temporarily residing, during the warm weather, in the neighborhood of Chantilly, at a chaumière, in the very midst of pinks and corn-roses. They had adopted the uniform costume of white from an eccentric whim of their own creation; and the blue ribbons were emblematic of a triangular friendship they had formed, into the composition of which entered sundry remote medical bearings and masonic allusions which we were not given clearly to understand. This we subsequently learned, of course; and having gone poking and sauntering about the gay city unattended-save when we had a guide-it was indeed refreshing to meet with such a picked squad of jolly acquaintances. If the whole continent of America had been scoured from

an edge of Lake Ponchertrain-taking that odd locality as a point, and going any way-north, south, east, or west-we doubt if a trio of more dashing, urbane young men could have been brought together. Although pursuing their professional studies in Paris, they had, at this particular period, thrown physic to the "bow-wows," as Mantilini says, and were now enjoying a pleasant relaxation of ease in the most approved manner. Dividing the time between their cottage and the cafés in town, dining here and supping there, just as the circumstances of the case suggested hour and locality, the time passed rapidly and with feathered feet. The young men of Virginia always conciliated our partiality; for, besides being well-bred and full of spirit, their unaffectedness of manner, and frank, manly sympathy, scarcely fail to win for them respect and attachment. Keenly alive to insult, they are equally affected by hospitality, and though some of the scions of the "Old Dominion" have got the reputation of being too "hot-blooded," yet, in the long run, their kindness of heart and uniform courtesy neutralize all that can be argued in respect to warmth of temperament.

we were

No longer had we occasion to complain of solitude; for what between the last arrival, and our friend who had so unexpectedly and romantically found us among the sepulchres, we were now enjoying a wealth of companionship. Our natal homes being the same, there was a current of fraternal sympathy pervading our sentiments, to which our hearts mutually bowed. That correspondingly fond of adventure and amusement there could exist no doubt after an hour's communication, and in a body we strolled through the city, actuated by the same desires and pursuing similar ends. That night, at parting, it was agreed that our friend and self should take an early ride the next morning, and breakfast at Chantilly. Accordingly we were up with the singing birds, and having ordered a brace of fine steeds the night before, while the dew was yet gleaming in the early sunshine, we set out at a pleasant pace, and reached the cottage just as coffee was about to come upon the table. Our

friends were lounging about the room in Cashmere robes and embroidered slippers. An easel, on which the outline of a landscape was mounted, an old violin, and a cribbage board, indicated the manner in which our southern friends passed their leisure; and these et cæteras, with a moderate appointment of ornamental tables, buffet, chimney-glass, with a vase or two, and several choice French prints of saucy arch-looking dames, in low-necked dresses, constituted the furniture of the apartment. Our morning ride had provoked an excellent appetite, and gave us a keen relish for a charmingly prepared fricasee, and a freshlaid egg. The café, too, was unexceptionable; and the rolls, long as one's arm, warm from the oven, now well buttered, were indeed morsels for Apicius.

At breakfast, the conversation turned on the credulity and incredulity of various nations. One of the southern boys insisted that an Englishman would believe white was black, if it was only proved to his satisfaction (a tolerably safe argument), and then gave the Americans credit for a trait of short-sightedness and credulity that quite startled us all.

"How about the French ?" we asked.

"Not half as bad," pursued our friend-we will call him George, for the sake of a name. “A Frenchman, with his characteristic flightiness, if he ever stops to consider, does so when something marvellous is about to be thrust down his throat. His perception here is wonderfully acute. Somebody once, in Yankee Land, fixed the tail of a fish to the head of a monkey, and christened it a mermaid. Don't you remember it? The bait took, and people were gulled by thousands. If the experiment had been tried in France it would have met with a very different reception. One gend'arme would have seized Mr. Monkey's head, and another the tail, and then of course the pleasant delusion would have dropped to pieces. I'll warrant the moon-hoax didn't affect France, although it set we Yankees and the English in a most celestial twitter. No, no; in my humble opinion, the French are too ingenious themselves