visitor. It was Monsieur Ernest Legouve! They
passed close to me, and I heard Monsieur Ernest Legouve say to Monsieur
Delord,--"My dear Sir, I recommend my play, 'Le Nom du Mari,' to you; I
hope you will be pleased with it!"

This contrast annoyed me. I was then horribly out of humor from an
irritating prelection, and I felt towards Monsieur Legouve that sort of
vexation the unlucky feel towards the lucky, the poor towards the rich,
the hunchbacks towards handsome men, and the awkward towards the adroit.
I said to myself,--"Armand, my poor Armand, you will never be aught but
a most stupid fool!"

We add no commentary to this picture of literary life in Paris. We leave
the reader to draw his own conclusions. He needs no assistance,--for the
picture is painted in bright colors, and the light is thrown with no
parsimonious hand upon every corner. It is a curious exhibition of a
most unhealthy state of things. It explains a great many of those
literary mysteries, which seem so unaccountable, in the most brilliant
capital of the world.

FOOTNOTES:

[24] _Elsie Venner_, by Oliver OEendell (_sic_) Holmes.

THE MASKERS.

Yesternight, as late I strayed
Through the orchard's mottled shade,--
Coming to the moonlit alleys,
Where the sweet Southwind, that dallies
All day with the Queen of Roses,
All night on her breast reposes,--
Drinking from the dewy blooms,
Silences, and scented glooms
Of the warm-breathed summer night,
Long, deep draughts of pure delight,--
Quick the shaken foliage parted,
And from out its shadows darted
Dwarf-like forms, with hideous faces,
Cries, contortions, and grimaces.
Still I stood beneath the lonely,
Sighing lilacs, saying only,--
"Little friends, you can't alarm me;
Well I know you would not harm me!"
Straightway dropped each painted mask,
Sword of lath, and paper casque,
And a troop of rosy girls
Ran and kissed me through their curls.

Caught within their net of graces,
I looked round on shining faces.
Sweetly through the moonlit alleys
Rang their laughter's silver sallies.
Then along the pathway, light
With the white bloom of the night,
I went peaceful, pacing slow,
Captive held in arms of snow.
Happy maids! of you I learn
Heavenly maskers to discern!
So, when seeming griefs and harms
Fill life's garden with alarms,
Through its inne