he suddenly appeared in
the _foyer des artistes_ (a beautiful greenroom, hung with historical
portraits of great actors and actresses, one of the prides of the
theatre) in this informal manner. Mme. Bartet, who happened to be there
alone at the time, was so impressed at such an unprecedented event that
she fainted, and the President had to run for water and help revive her.
The next day he sent the great actress a beautiful vase of Sevres china,
full of water, in souvenir.

To a lover of old things and old ways any changes in the Paris he has
known and loved are a sad trial. Henri Drumont, in his delightful _Mon
Vieux Paris_, deplores this modern mania for reform which has done such
good work in the new quarters but should, he thinks, respect the historic
streets and shady squares.

One naturally feels that the sights familiar in youth lose by being
transformed and doubts the necessity of such improvements.

The Rome of my childhood is no more! Half of Cairo was ruthlessly
transformed in sixty-five into a hideous caricature of modern Paris.
Milan has been remodelled, each city losing in charm as it gained in
convenience.

So far Paris has held her own. The spirit of the city has not been lost,
as in the other capitals. The fair metropolis of France, in spite of
many transformations, still holds her admirers with a dominating sway.
She pours out for them a strong elixir that once tasted takes the flavor
out of existence in other cities and makes her adorers, when in exile,
thirst for another draught of the subtle nectar.

No. 25--Contentment

As the result of certain ideal standards adopted among us when this
country was still in long clothes, a time when the equality of man was
the new "fad" of many nations, and the prizes of life first came within
the reach of those fortunate or unscrupulous enough to seize them, it
became the fashion (and has remained so down to our day) to teach every
little boy attending a village school to look upon himself as a possible
future President, and to assume that every girl was preparing herself for
the position of first lady in the land. This is very well in theory, and
practice has shown that, as Napoleon said, "Every private may carry a
marshal's baton in his knapsack." Alongside of the good such incentive
may produce, it is only fair, however, to consider also how much harm may
lie in this way of presenting life to a child's mind.

As a first result of such ta