When one of these looked in and passed on, I could not help thinking-- "Now this don't afford you any satisfaction--a party with his head shot off is what you need." One night we went to the celebrated Jardin Mabille, but only staid a little while.

We wanted to see some of this kind of Paris life, however, and therefore the next night we went to a similar place of entertainment in a great garden in the suburb of Asnieres.

We went to the railroad depot, toward evening, and Ferguson got tickets for a second-class carriage.

Such a perfect jam of people I have not often seen--but there was no noise, no disorder, no rowdyism.

Some of the women and young girls that entered the train we knew to be of the demi-monde, but others we were not at all sure about.
The girls and women in our carriage behaved themselves modestly and becomingly all the way out, except that they smoked.