sity" take its course, and it was recorded
that pecuniarily the proprietress was the better off for this change of
tactics.

[Footnote 3: Guillaume Lethiere, whose real name was Guillon,
was a native of Guadeloupe. He fought and seriously wounded
several officers because the latter had objected to "a mere
dauber wearing moustaches." He was obliged to leave Paris, but,
thanks to the protection of Lucien Bonaparte, was appointed
Director of the French Academie at Rome.--EDITOR.]

I am willing to repeat that record, which, if true, did credit to the
head of the landlady and the hearts of her tenants, but am compelled to
supplement it by a different version. When I saw the "Childebert" in '37
or '38, no man in his senses would have paid rent for any one room in it
on the two top stories; he might as well have lived in the streets. It
was an absolute case of the bottomless sedan chair in which two of his
fellow-porters put Pat; "but for the honour of the thing, he might have
walked." Consequently the tenants there were rarely harassed for their
rent; if they paid it at all, it was so much unexpected gain. It
happened, however, that now and then by mistake a youngster was put
there who had scruples about discharging his liabilities in that
respect; and one of these was Emile Lapierre, who subsequently became a
landscape-painter of note. One night, after he had taken up his quarters
there, the floodgates of heaven opened over Paris. Lapierre woke up
amidst a deluge. I need not say that there were no bells at the
"Childebert;" nevertheless there was no fear of dying unattended,
provided one could shout, for there was always a party turning night
into day, or hailing the smiling morn before turning in. Lapierre's
shouts found a ready echo, and in a few moments the old concierge was on
the spot.

"Go and fetch a boat--go and fetch a boat!" yelled Lapierre. "I am
drowning!" yelled Lapierre.

"There are none in the quarter," replied the old woman innocently,
thinking he was in earnest.

"Then go and fetch Madame Legendre, to show her the pond she is letting
me instead of the room for which I pay her."

"Madame would not come, not even for you, monsieur, who are the only one
punctual with your rent; besides, if she did come, she would have no
repairs done."

"Oh, she'll have no repairs done! We'll soon find out. I think I'll make
her," screamed Lapierre; and he kept his