out her than her humble occupation would seem to
imply. I made known my relationship in a few words, and having told
her that I had made all arrangements for settling whatever property I
possessed upon her, and informed her that Mr. Fitzsimon would act as her
guardian, I wished her good-bye and departed. I saw that my life must be
passed in occupation of one kind or other--idleness would never do; and
with the only fifty I reserved to myself of my little fortune, I started
for Paris. What I was to do I had no idea whatever; but I well knew that
you have only to lay the bridle on Fortune's neck, and you 'll seldom be
disappointed in adventures.

'For some weeks I strolled about Paris, enjoying myself as thoughtlessly
as though I had no need of any effort to replenish my failing exchequer.
The mere human tide that flowed along the Boulevards and through the gay
gardens of the Tuileries would have been amusement enough for me. Then
there were theatres and cafes and restaurants of every class--from the
costly style of the "Rocher" down to the dinner beside the fountain
Des Innocents, where you feast for four sous, and where the lowest and
poorest class of the capital resorted. Well, well, I might tell you some
strange scenes of those days, but I must hurry on.

'In my rambles through Paris, visiting strange and out-of-the-way
places, dining here and supping there, watching life under every aspect
I could behold it, I strolled one evening across the Pont Neuf into
the Ile St. Louis, that quaint old quarter, with its narrow straggling
streets, and its tall gloomy houses, barricaded like fortresses. The old
_portes cocheres_ studded with nails and barred with iron, and having
each a small window to peer through at the stranger without, spoke of
days when outrage and attack were rife, and it behoved every man to
fortify his stronghold as best he could. There were now to be found the
most abandoned and desperate of the whole Parisian world; the assassin,
the murderer, the housebreaker, the coiner, found a refuge in this
confused wilderness of gloomy alleys and dark dismal passages. When
night falls, no lantern throws a friendly gleam along the streets; all
is left in perfect darkness, save when the red light of some cabaret
lamp streams across the pavement. In one of these dismal streets I found
myself when night set in, and although I walked on and on, somehow I
never could extricate myself, but continually kept moving in some