any sort of attack upon me, was a woman.
She marched into the place I had left, and
placing her finger on the trigger, demanded
of the official, in a gruff, your-money-or-your-
life tone of voice—" Ten francs!"

I thought the official decidedly prudent,
when he at once acquiesced in the demand.
The Amazon instantly surrendered her arms
at discretion, and the money was paid over
to her, after she had duly satisfied the official
that her husband was simply a gunsmith, and
was not a soldier pawning the property of
the State.

Leaving both sides satisfied with this
honourable capitulation, I made the best of
my way towards the central office, situated in
a cross street somewhere between the Rue de
Seine and the Rue du Bac. I had no difficulty
in finding it. The first person I addressed,
directed me to a conspicuous building guarded
by two sentries, surmounted by a tri-colour
ensign, and blazoned with the famous
inscription—" Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité,"—
which has since been shewn to mean so very
much. Over the Mont de Piété they had a
certain suggestiveness of the benefit of which
the philosophic borrower of 1852 is most
tyrannically deprived.

French sentries—unlike English ones, do
know something about the buildings they
mount guard over; and are not too sulky to
communicate their knowledge. Accordingly,
I was not surprised, when, in answer to my
inquiry, one of the sentinels directed me
across the court-yard, to the left, where a
large door stands hospitably open. All who
enter here leave, not necessarily hope, but
certainly comfort behind. The staircase is
of rough timber, inconvenient, precipitous,
dirty, and crazy, from constant use. Above
stairs there is a slight change for the worse.
A suite of rooms all opening into one another,
all dirty, all close, and all crowded.

In the first room two men were peering
through two pigeon-holes in the wall, like
those of the money-takers at the theatres;
and to prevent the confusion which would be
caused by the rush of the miscellaneous mob,
a space is barriered off, just sufficient to allow
one person to pass at a time—an arrangement
similar to that at the pit of the London
Opera on a crowded night, and such as is
in use at the entrance to nearly all the French
theatres.

Notwithstanding this wise regulation, there
is a great deal of confusion, caused by the
efforts of everybody (everybody includes,
perhaps, a couple of hundred) to be first.
Yellow gloves are clutching convulsively, to
check the ambition of blouses; rags and
tatters, in their turn, are asserting the
principles of Equality, which has here—and
scarcely anywhere else, except at the Morgue
—a real practical existence. But, although
there is confusion enough, there is no
quarrelling; everybody is good-humoured, and, if
he cannot force his way, is contented to bide
his time. Many a bloused and bearded
operative may be seen pausing, perhaps, in his
hot endeavours, and with a courtly bow,
worthy of the old Court of Louis the Fifteenth,
making way for "a lady." If these fine
courtesies are really the " cheap defence of
nations," France should be impregnable.

For myself—not having the hardihood, in
the first instance, to thrust myself into the
mass—I waited patiently, thinking to let the
crowd become thinned, and to transact my
business at my leisure. But, after half-an-
hour's pursuance of this policy, the idea began
to dawn upon me—as I watched the
newcomers, increasing in numbers and diminishing
in patience—that, at this rate, I stood a
chance of desolating Delphine four-and-twenty
hours more. Seized with a sudden impulse,
I made a dash for it; dislodged several free
and independent citizens, with most
determined and exasperating courtesy; and, finally,
gained a place inside the barriers. Here I
scrutinised those before me, in their negotiations
with the officials; saw them stop at the
first pigeon-hole, and exchange the grand
yellow document for another of smaller dimensions,
after the former had undergone a careful
examination; then I followed their
movements to the second pigeon-hole, where an
exchange of the second paper for a piece of
card, bearing a number, was effected—each
transaction being conducted with military
precision, and by a person assuming all the
grandeur of a General of Division, and the
administrative dignity of a Lord Chief
Justice.

Having gone through these formalities—
which included the payment of a certain small
sum (at the first pigeon-hole), as interest on
the loan—I was once more free of the barrier.
The number on my ticket was the number
of the article which I had to reclaim; but,
before presenting it in the room devoted to
the jewellery department, I paused to observe
the proceedings in that dedicated to habiliments,
and miscellaneous articles.

In the latter apartment, behind a counter,
stood a person, who called aloud various
numbers in rotation, as the corresponding
articles were brought up to him from some
mysterious place at the back: " Quarante-
cinq! " he shouted, at the top of his voice.
The person representing Forty-five stepped
modestly forward. She was a young girl—
a grisette, wearing a little cap. She
approaches the counter; on presenting her
ticket, she receives some article tied up in a
handkerchief, having all the appearance of a
bonnet. The following day was Sunday. She
was probably going to some fête or to the
theatre, and was about to commit the hazardous
impropriety of appearing like a grand lady, in
a bonnet—an offence which a grand lady
never forgives in a grisette; and by which all
grisettes who cannot get bonnets will become
her enemies for life.

"Quarante-six!" cries the official, calling