"Monsieur is the only son of a widow," put in my cousin.

"But I mean to go to the ramparts for all that," added the orphan.

"You owe yourself to your mother," said the priest--"and to your country," I suggested, but the observation fell very flat.

"It is a grand sight," observed one old gentleman, as he put a third lump of sugar in his tea, and another into his pocket, "a glorious spectacle, to see a population that was supposed to be given up to luxury, subsisting cheerfully week after week upon the simplest necessaries of existence." "I have not tasted game once this year, and the beef is far from good," sighed old gentleman No.

2; "but we will continue to endure our hardships for months, or for years if need be, rather than allow the Prussians to enter Paris." This sort of Lacedemonian twaddle went on during the whole time of my visit, and my cousin evidently was proud of being surrounded by such Spartans.