the roots of the national perversity of a race which reveals in all things such remarkable exterior grace and refinement. My servant, an excellent creature, well-bred, of the very highest moral character, and a delicacy of sentiment and instinct many a lady might envy, a woman a duchess might make her friend and count herself the gainer, has a child, a little lad of ten. She has brought up this boy so perfectly that if fate transformed him to-morrow into a prince, he would have nothing to learn. She has insisted in his training on an exquisite modesty, the delicacy of a girl, and a corresponding innocence. I gave this little fellow the other day half a franc to go down to the fair, then in my avenue, and told him to go and see a brown bear and a delightful young camel with which I had made friends; but before the child reached the wild-*beast booth, an elderly gentleman, going into another booth, invited him to accompany him. Now, the elderly gentleman knew where he was going, and why; the child did not, and he trustingly went in, paid his twopence, and followed the elderly reprobate to see—what?—a series of anatomical models in wax; the man explained the spectacle to the child, and sent him back to his mother troubled and unhappy. François communicated all that had passed to my servant, who came to me with tears in her eyes, and we both felt it a hard thing that a boy in Paris could
