mselves; the men ill-dressed,
slovenly, and in general ill-looking, lounge indolently, and stare as
if they had no other purpose in life but to look about them.[B]

_July 12._--"Quel est a Paris le supreme talent? celui d'amuser: et
quel est le supreme bonheur? l'amusement."

Then _le supreme bonheur_ may be found every evening from nine to ten,
in a walk along the Boulevards, or a ramble through the Champs
Elysees, and from ten to twelve in a salon at Tortoni's.

What an extraordinary scene was that I witnessed to-night! how truly
_French_! Spite of myself and all my melancholy musings, and all my
philosophic allowances for the difference of national character, I was
irresistibly compelled to smile at some of the farcical groups we
encountered. In the most crowded parts of the Champs Elysees this
evening (Sunday), there sat an old lady with a wrinkled yellow face
and sharp features, dressed in flounced gown of dirty white muslin, a
pink sash and a Leghorn hat and feathers. In one hand she held a small
tray for the contribution of amateurs, and in the other an Italian
bravura, which she sung or rather screamed out with a thousand
indescribable shruggings, contortions, and grimaces, and in a voice to
which a cracked tea-kettle, or a "brazen candlestick turned," had
seemed the music of the spheres. A little farther on we found two
elderly gentlemen playing at see-saw; one an immense corpulent man of
fifteen stone at least, the other a thin dwarfish animal with gray
mustachios, who held before him what I thought was a child, but on
approaching, it proved to be a large stone strapped before him, to
render his weight a counterpoise to that of his huge companion. We
passed on, and returning about half an hour afterwards down the same
walk, we found the same venerable pair pursuing their edifying
amusement with as much enthusiasm as before.

* * * * *

Before the revolution, sacrilege became one of the most frequent
crimes. I was told of a man who, having stolen from a church the
silver box containing the consecrated wafers, returned the wafers next
day in a letter to the Cure of the Parish, _having used one of them to
seal his envelop_.

* * * * *

July 27.--A conversation with S** always leaves me sad. Can it then be
possible that he is right? No--O no! my understanding rejects the idea
with indignation, my whole heart recoils from it; yet if it should be