Between Fontenay-aux-Roses and Paris, to the right of the road, is the
village of Gentilly, whose numerous guinguettes are much frequented
by the Parisians in fine weather. It being a holyday we met crowds of
well dressed citizens, in all sorts of vehicles, driving towards it.
An interesting circumstance had been related to me of the cure of this
village, M. Detruissart; and on asking permission to visit his rural
habitation, I found the story to be true. His garden, which is not
above half an acre, has been laid out with such art and ingenuity, as
to give an idea of considerable extent, and to add to the charms of
this little spot, which he calls his "bonheur," there are a variety of
inscriptions of his own composition; over an arbour of vines is the
following:--

MA SOLITUDE.

Loin des mechans, du bruit, des tempetes du monde,
Sous un simple berceau dont la treille est feconde,
Sous un modeste toit, dans de rians jardins,
Dessines, eleves, cultives par mes mains....
C'est dans ces lieux cheris que s'ecoule ma vie
Dans une paix profonde, une tranquillite
Qui sans cesse rappele a mon ame ravie
Le temps de l'age d'or et ma felicite:
Mais, quelque doux qu'il soit, mon sort est peu de chose;
Car enfin, apres tout, je dois mourir bientot!
Ne ressemblons-nous pas a la feuille de rose
Qui paroit un instant et qui seche aussitot!

It was in the practice of the moral conveyed by these lines, and in
the pursuit of literature, and constant acts of charity, that Mons.
Detruissart passed his life, which was rewarded by the esteem and
affection of all his parishioners, of which they gave a remarkable
proof on the 4th of July, 1815, when the Prussian troops took post at
Gentilly, from whence they had driven the French the preceding evening
into Paris.

The poor cure, with many other of the inhabitants, sought refuge
in the capital, leaving his house at the mercy of the enemy, who
commenced plundering in all directions; the humble and modest
appearance of M. Detruissart's cottage not attracting their notice,
it remained untouched, when a single word from any of the inhabitants
would have devoted it to ruin; but such was their esteem for him, that
at his return he found every thing as he had left it.

I entered Paris, leaving Bicetre to my right, by the barriere d'Enfer,
after one of the most agreeable and interesting journeys I ever
performed.

CHAP. IX.

ENVIRONS OF PARIS--PERE LA CH