poet's mantle in the gaiety and genial ruffianism of the modern ideal of the Latin Quarter. But here, happily, we alight upon an institution in process of doom. The Quarter is in the pangs of transformation, and soon the cheap and unsympathetic heroes of Mürger will be but a memory, and not a decent one at that. Along the "Boul. Mich." youths are beginning to pay their way, for all the world like the common "beastly burgess" across the river.
The Conservatoire is another national institution. Like the Academy and the Comédie Française, it is a home of traditions. The airy foreigner who wishes to assist at one of its concerts cannot hope to open its doors with a golden key. Its seats are subscribed for and constitute personal property. Should the foreigner be fortunate enough to possess a friend with one of these seats who is willing to sacrifice a concert for his benefit, he will hear a marvellous orchestra. For a short time the scene of this unique harmony of sound was shifted from the neighbourhood of the Upper Boulevards to the boards of the Opera-house, and the result was sheer disaster. The orchestra of the Conservatoire is just suited to its own select little hall, but it is too delicate, too perfect, for transposition to a big theatre like the Opera-house of Paris. There you need instrumentation of a coarser quality, music less subtly rendered. Where the polka may be fitly danced,
