like him, who had proved
themselves disturbers of the peace.

About a year after the time I have been describing, while walking down
Nassau street, in New York, I very suddenly and unexpectedly met my
friend, the radical!

"Aha!" said I, "you have left Paris. Well, you have shown good taste."

"No! no!" he replied, "I did not leave it till Louis Napoleon forced me
to choose exile or imprisonment. I had no choice in the matter."

He seemed to feel lost amid the bustle of New York. His dream was over,
and at thirty-five he found himself amid the realities of a
money-seeking nation. The look upon his face was sad, almost despairing.
I certainly never pitied a man more than I did him. Pure, guileless
generous--and poor, what could he do in New York?

A WALK INTO THE COUNTRY.

The summer and autumn are the seasons one should spend in Paris, to see
it in its full glory. The people of Paris live out of doors, and to see
them in the winter, is not to know them thoroughly. The summer weather
is unlike that of London. The air is pure, the sky serene, and the whole
city is full of gardens and promenades. The little out-of-door theaters
reap harvests of money--the tricksters, the conjurors, the street
fiddlers, and all sorts of men who get their subsistence by furnishing
the people with cheap amusements, are in high spirits, for in these
seasons they can drive a fine business. Not so in the winter. Then they
are obliged either to wander over the half-deserted _places_, gathering
here and there a sou, or shut themselves up in their garret or cellar
apartments, and live upon their summer gains. To the stranger who must
be economical, Paris in the winter is not to be desired, for fuel is
enormously high in that city. A bit of wood is worth so much cash, and a
log which in America would be thrown away, would there be worth a little
fortune to a poor wood-dealer.

The country around Paris is scarcely worth a visit in the winter or
early spring months, but in the summer it is far different. I remember a
little walk I took one day past the fortifications. When I came to the
walls of the city, I was obliged to pass through a narrow gate. All who
enter the city are inspected, for there is a heavy duty upon provisions
of nearly all kinds which are brought from the provinces into Paris. The
duty upon wines is very heavy. Upon a bottle of cheap wine, which costs
in the country but fifteen sous, there is a gate-duty of five sous.