days I spend in the Louvre, revelling in pictures. Jo would turn up her naughty nose at some of the finest, because she has no soul for art; but I have, and I’m cultivating eye and taste as fast as I can. She would like the relics of great people better, for I’ve seen her Napoleon’s cocked hat and gray coat, his baby’s cradle and his old toothbrush; also Marie Antoinette’s little shoe, the ring of Saint Denis, Charlemagne’s sword, and many other interesting things. I’ll talk for hours about them when I come, but haven’t time to write. “The Palais Royale is a heavenly place—so full of bijouterie and lovely things that I’m nearly distracted because I can’t buy them. Fred wanted to get me some, but of course I didn’t allow it. Then the Bois and the Champs Élysée are très magnifique . I’ve seen the imperial family several times—the emperor an ugly, hard-looking man, the empress pale and pretty, but dressed in bad taste, I thought—purple dress, green hat, and yellow gloves. Little Nap. is a handsome boy, who sits chatting to his tutor, and kisses his hand to the people as he passes in his four-horse barouche, with postilions in red satin jackets, and a mounted guard before and behind.
“We often walk in the Tuileries Gardens, for they are lovely, though the antique Luxembourg Gardens suit me better. Père la Chaise is very curious, for many of the tombs are like small rooms, and, looking in, one sees a table, with images or pictures of the dead, and chairs for the mourners to sit in when they come to lament. That is so Frenchy. “Our rooms are on the Rue de Rivoli, and, sitting in the balcony, we look up and down the long, brilliant street. It