thin-stemmed clay-pipes, in the colouring of which he took great pride. There was a legend current that he smoked as he slept in his bed. After Boudin’s was over, we ended the day by walking home, and being fairly tired by the time we got there, went at once to bed and sleep.
The first Sunday morning in Paris I dutifully went to the English church in the Rue d’Agnesseau. I expect I was a little home-sick, though I had left home so recently ; the sight of the English faces, the sound of English voices, gave me much pleasure, but a pleasure dearly purchased at i fr. 25 c. for a seat. I never repeated my visit. We tried one or two evening services at a French Protestant chapel, but found the place close and stuffy, and the service somniferous, and soon discontinued our attendance. We much preferred roaming about the city with Bland, looking in at different churches for the en- joyment of the music, or loafing about the squares and gardens, or taking a suburban walk to enjoy the pure fresh air, the blue sky, and brilliant sunshine. Sunshine without and sunshine within warmed us in those delightful Paris days, before the battle of life had begun, when hope was high and care unknown !
Among the students at Picot’s with whom I worked were Leon Perrault, who has since made his mark as a painter, and Gustave Droz, who,
