ecome dull and listless. I had taken life as it came, resigning
my will to outer influences, just as one without appetite sits down to
a meal, merely to gain nourishment.

I had become morbidly sensitive; every effort that was made to
alleviate my sufferings and restore my accustomed spirits only served
to pain me anew.

I was now experiencing the worst effect of grief--indifference to the
world.

My path seemed to lie through dismal darkness; but at last I stepped
out into the bright light of day and into the busy haunts of men.

The village street leads into the highway; the forest-brooks flow on
until they reach the river that empties itself into the ocean.

Thus too has it been with my life.

Yielding to Joseph's earnest wishes, I had made a collection of
specimens illustrating every stage in the cultivation and growth of the
white pine. When the collection was complete, I sent it to the great
Paris Exposition.

I received a medal of honor. I did not really deserve it; it should in
justice have gone to Ernst, who had acquainted me with the results of
his careful study of the subject.

I have the diploma, and the medal bearing the effigy of Napoleon. I
looked at them but once, and then enclosed them under seal. They will
be found in the little casket that contains my discharge from the
fortress and other strange mementoes of the past.

Joseph asked me to accompany him to Paris, and would listen to no
refusal. He wanted to acquaint himself with the new methods of
kyanizing railroad ties, and insisted that he could not get along
without my aid.

I had not yet escaped from that condition in which it is well to resign
one's self to the guidance of others.

I saw Paris for the second time. My first visit was in 1832 or 1833,
and was undertaken with the object of making the acquaintance of La
Fayette. In those days we fondly believed that Paris was to save the
world.

Compared with what I now saw, all that had been done in the Parliament
that was held in the High street of our little capital seemed petty and
trifling.

Though storms were gathering, Jupiter Napoleon sat enthroned over all
Europe, and ruled the thunder and the lightning.

I saw him surrounded by all the European monarchs, and often asked
myself whether the world's life is, after all, anything but mummery.

One day, while I was sitting on a bench in the Champs Elysees, and
gazing at the lively, bustling throng that passed before me, I was