cobble-stones of the river-streets, or the wharves have ceased to reverberate the thunderous tread of labor.

The steel threads by which the East River is to be bridged are being woven into stouter cables every day. Bartholdi's colossal statue of "Liberty enlightening the World' is to be placed on Bedloe's Island in the bay, and illuminate the harbor with electric lights. French citizens pledge themselves to erect the statue, provided the American people supply the pedestal. General McClellan's plans have already resulted in the reconstruction of many wharves; and further improvements, complete or in progress, give us heart to bear good-naturedly the most cheerless presages of the croakers. We linger by the water-front until dusk.

The

traffic that begins suddenly in the morning ceases as suddenly in the evening. At seven o'clock the wharves are almost deserted. The river is still and glossed with a coppery yellow; the Jersey shore is a low edge of blackness turned against the fading crimson of the west, and for a few moments a peculiar twilight brings the masts and cordage of the shipping into a marvelous distinctness. The changing lights are beautiful; the artist is enraptured, and directs my attention here and there; then he touches his portfolio, and sighs a lamentation over the inadequacy of black and white for sketches of harborscenes, which are full of color. I sympathize with him, though his black and white are more capable of doing justice than mine, which are miserably restricted to a quill and an ink-pot.

obstruction of the road. Papa happened to see the break-down from one of the windows of his office, and he raged and stormed as only my dear papa can rage and storm. A host of men were called, who all pulled, and tugged, and strained, and the thing would not budge. You know, my dear Clémence, how we French are given to expletives. Va! If bad language could have moved that heavy mass of iron, it would have flown. I happened to be riding that way with my groom, and was attracted by the confusion. There was poor papa, in almost a fit of apoplexy, watch in hand, saying that the machine must be off the track in fifteen minutes, or it would be a loss of ten thousand francs to him, because the express-train to Paris would be due in twenty minutes. Papa ordered out more men, and the heaviest tackle. You see, Clémence, I know all about such things.

"It can be done more quickly, and without so much trouble," said a little man, in rather grammatical French, but with a decided English accent. "If you will only keep quiet, and not all talk at once, I feel pretty certain that we can clear the rails of the obstruction in fifteen minutes. Give me, sir" -this was addressed to papa-" twenty-five mensilent ones, above all-and let every one of them | have hammers and chisels, and as many levers;" and the little man took a cigar out, and lit it quite composedly.

"How? how?" shrieked papa.

By this time I was so excited myself that I had urged my horse quite into the middle of the crowd of workmen.

"Do you not see that some of the heavy stays and bolts supporting the machine are all bent up, and twisted around the iron rails of the track, and that by the force of the fall they are completely imbedded? You are trying to move not only the machine, but the railroad together, which is impossible. Here, loosen that rail-pull it up-and the crosspiece too, if necessary;" and, saying this, the man, having thrown away his cigar, set alone at work onehanded, for he had but a single arm.

"What! Is it possible?" cried papa. "You want to move the rails? This is an audacious idea, and the consequences would be dreadful! I must have permission from the head engineer of the road before I can touch a single rail."

But, before papa could say anything more, the workmen seemed to have caught the little man's ideas, for they had pulled up two rails, and the hammers and chisels rained down blows on the jagged and twisted bits of irons. Pretty soon all hinderances were cut loose, and, with a hearty push, by means of rollers, the whole mass of iron was moved off the track. Then, quick as lightning, our little man, for he is scarcely three inches taller than I am, was down on his knees, tugging at the rails, and showing the workmen how to lay them in place again.

By this time a host of railroad employés were on the spot, for it happened three miles above the depot; and while they gaped in amazement over the sacrilege of those divine rights which railroads enjoy

in France, down came thundering along the grandevitesse train, and passed on just as smoothly as if nothing had happened. Of course, after the thing was all done and past, papa had to ask permission for form's sake to remove the rails and replace them again, all of which concessions were kindly granted him. I feel sure our little American-for he was an American-came in for a good deal of praise. Anyhow, papa, who is quick to appreciate merit, and likes to have people in his employ who can bring in prominence those peculiar qualities which sudden emergencies call for, inquired what might be the profession of this person. Our little man proved to be an engineer, and papa engaged him as a superintendent of some of our minor departments. Now, papa has a very excited way of talking about the products of his forge. You might tell him that his pictures were poor copies, or his horses or his dogs bad, or the lawn of St.-Eloi a shabby grass-plot, and he would only shrug his shoulders; but find fault with a single scrap of his iron, and he becomes furious-because he is very conscientious about such things. Now, when the new contre-maître was in position for a month only, papa got into a desperate rage with him. The contre-maître had declared that a certain quality of iron our forge turned out was poor, and not as good as it should be for the price. But papa listened to the new man, and, according to his suggestions, some original appliances were made, and ever since then papa has done nothing else but boast about his iron. It seems that, by the adoption of certain American devices, we not only save fuel, but make tougher iron—an improvement in quality with a diminution of cost. You may not know, my dear Clémence, how this works both ways to our profit, or how the fraction of a centime in our favor makes the difference of fortune to us when you consider the millions of pounds of iron the forges of St.-Eloi turn out. I would not be the fitting daughter of the largest iron-manufacturer in this part of France if I did not know all the secrets of the business, for papa treats me almost like a partner, and even consults me in regard to his plans.

There, that is enough about the contre-maître. Oh, I forgot-he is an invalid! It is not a very serious matter. There is nothing heroic about him. He did not wade through molten iron to save anything or anybody. Ten days ago some new process was going on of his planning, which came suddenly to a standstill, because a blowing-machine would not keep up its blast in the furnace. I don't know what it was exactly, but something had been clogged up or had stuck fast, and the hands were swearing and suggesting and doing nothing, when the contremaître did something which set all the machinery going again with such a sudden jar and clatter, that an old piece of lumber was thrown down, which struck the superintendent on the head and stunned him for the moment. Such a precious hard head he must have, not to have been killed, and to have come off with only a scalp-wound! Papa has had the contre-maître at the château for a week, and he goes mooning around the grounds, with his head

bound up, looking like a small edition of Doré's Don Quixote ! Oh, how did Bobe come into my possession? Bobe belonged to the contre-maître, and, when the dog left his master one day and came to me, I admired the little brute. Papa asked M. Percival to send to England for just such a dog for me. M. Percival (such an odd Christian-name as he has, Hoo; it is spelled H-u-g-h-what an impossible language is English!) begged papa to keep the dog. Bobe only owes me half-allegiance: for he is constantly playing me false, and running off to his old master. Sometimes I have a mind to send him back.-There, I must cease now, for Madame de Valbois has come in. It is fortunate she has, otherwise I should be as interminable as Mees Clarissa Harlowe, who must have spent all her miserable life writing letters.

There, Madame de Valbois has gone. She asked me to whom I had been writing, and I replied, "To Clémence de Montfriand." She said, quite condescendingly : "What, Clémence du Parc, who was married some six months ago? A good acquaintance, my dear Pauline. If your friend Clémence has the beauty, the grace, the amiability, of her mother, you could have no better friend." You see, then, Clémence chérie, Madame de Valbois patronizes you, and congratulates me on having such distinguished acquaintances! Madame de Valbois told me that the general has just arrived, and she left me to meet him. I thought I heard a bustle in the courtyard.-Bless me! I have been looking out of the window! There is a sentinel at the entrance-door, and I see some dozen infantry-soldiers. As I supposed, St.Eloi will be headquarters. I must go down and welcome my dear godfather-my second father, in fact. Who would think, Clémence, that such a sweet old gentleman, who looks for all the world-save his mustache-like our ancient Professor of Botany, was a redoubtable soldier, and that, in the Crimea, he was among the first to storm the Malakoff? Huzza for the glories of France! The general will kiss me, and will be sure to call me his "pretty little Pauline," as if I were a baby yet. Then he will give me an elegant bonbonnière full of the choicest sugarplums. Now I might be half inclined to laugh at my dear old general's gift to a young woman of almost twenty-one, if I was not sure to find in the box a dainty ring or a bracelet. The general forgets that I am growing older, while he-why, really he remains ever the same. I will give you a breathing-spell, Clémence, while I dress. Babette has come in to aid me in my toilet. I shall resume this interminable letter later.

Just as I told you, Clémence, the most charming of Boissiers boxes was mine, but in it was a ring, an antique-Greek or Phoenician, I don't remember which. The general, who is a famous antiquarian, picked it up himself in some ruin, in Africa, I believe I think near old Carthage-and he has had the stone mounted by Castellani. Dear old gentleman! when I thanked him for it-for, much to Madame de Valbois's horror, I had turned out all the su

gar-plums to look for it-the general said to me: My dear child, some of these fine days, before very long, I hope to present you, above-board, and not in a tawdry box of comfits, such a parure as will tend to render my godchild more beautiful when she makes another man happy as his wife." Of course, this remark of my godfather's confused me, and the more so since I became certain that a look of intelligence had passed between Madame de Valbois and Général de Frail. Had these two good people been talking about an intended parti for me? I hinted before this to you, Clémence, some suspicions of such a thing. In fact, it is getting to be such a serious matter that I ought not to treat it any longer en espiègle. M. de Valbois and I, save for the last four years, when he was absent in America and in the East, have known each other ever since we were children. It is only within the last few years that I have ceased calling him Raoul. I know papa owes a debt of gratitude to M. Raoul's father, who in some way laid the foundation of our fortune. The De Valbois people are all very wealthy. As to M. Raoul, there is really very little to find fault with. He is highly educated, stands well in the Foreign Office, and will rise in position. At twenty-six he has some three decorations, which, with exceeding good taste, he never alludes to. He is a singularly handsome man, and, if but slightly fat, is but very little fade. But-but why has he been away for the last four years? What I feel is so difficult for me to express about him is this: I am certain that Raoul de Valbois thinks the matter of our espousals (I write you this as if I were the heroine-princess of a melodrama) is a foregone conclusion. I always imagine that there is a little lordly way about him which galls and irritates me. It is, I feel certain, Madame de Vallpis who is most at fault. I try not to resent madame's manners by supposing that her son has any such ideas, but for the life of me I cannot help it. It is true the De Valbois family can hold their heads high in point of birth, but what is that to me? Yet Madame de Valbois is constantly bringing into prominence the attentions of Madame la Comtesse This and Madame la Baronne That, who all had superb daughters, with handsome dowers, which good mammas would only have been too glad to confide their darlings to the representative of the De Valbois. I should not mind that so much, for it might be true, only she tells me, pretty much in these words, what she has replied to these eligible offers: "Mesdames, your daughters are surpassingly lovely, and their worldly conditions are no doubt assured, and your proposals generally and collectively do us honor, only we are engaged; the matter is all cut and dried. We have only to put out our hand somewhere-hardly to ask, in fact-only to intimate it, and we can be supremely happy." All these things passed through my mind then, as they do now, when the general spoke to me. Presently Madame de Valbois left us. I never saw my dear godfather in such high spirits. I have described him to you as looking like a quiet professor of sciences, only at times his eyes flash like lightning, and you can see that the man is made of iron

and steel. We had been talking some half-hour on indifferent topics, when the general referred incidentally to my geographical studies about France, for, you know, if I am slightly ignorant about the outside world, I am thoroughly at home in my own country. As to our department and the immediate neighborhood for ten leagues around, I do not think there is a road or a by-path I have not galloped over. The general put to me quite a series of singular questions as to the width of certain roads and the character of the bridges, and we had a dispute in regard to the number of arches which spanned a stream some four leagues from here. The general requested me to find for him a book on engineering devoted to the departmental improvements, in order to assure himself that I was right. I soon gave him the book, and he found that I was correct. There were some maps in the back of the volume, and he spread out one of the department on the table. As he did so a bit of tracing-paper dropped out and fell on the floor. The general picked it up, examined it, and then put the paper in his pocket. Then he went on questioning me, though his queries were put to me en badinage, as, "My little pupil, if it is two leagues from the cross-road where the beet-factory is to the village, and three more to the river, with a road only ten metres wide, when you cantered along it with a hunting-party, as you say you have done, pray can you tell me how many ladies and gentlemen rode abreast? Do not forget that the road narrows for the last half-league between the hills. Now count it out on your pretty fingers." Of course, my explanations were none of the clearest, so I referred him laughingly to his staff. Suddenly he asked me, "How far are we from Stultzheim on the Rhine?"

It is said to be almost seventeen leagues. That is the distance marked in kilometres on the railroad."

"Yes," he replied; "but I mean by the wagoners' route. Now, suppose Pauline had her trunk full of elegant dresses at Stultzheim, and wanted the trunk carted to St.-Eloi, how long would it take the package to reach you?"

"How should I know precisely?" I replied. "But we have, I think, some one here who could give you the exact information you require. Not papa, because these minor details escape him. I think this man can give you the distance, because some months ago several loads of machinery were sent to a cloth-factory within a half-mile of Stultzheim. M. Percival, our contre-maître, must be able to tell you all about it. M. Percival directed the transportation."

"I would like to see him," said the general; and he touched a bell, when one of his orderlies came. Looking out of the window, I saw M. Percival seated on a bench in the court-yard, reading a book. I indicated M. Percival to the soldier, and in a few moments the contre-maître was in the library, looking rather surprised.

"How long did it take you, sir," inquired the general, in a quick, military tone, "to move some machinery from the factory to Stultzheim ?"

'Here is this particular road," said the general; and he took up the book and spread out the map before him. "Here is St.-Eloi, and here is the " But my godfather, not being familiar with the locality, halted here.

"Yes," said M. Percival, "here are two streams which have to be crossed. The first bridge is excellent and sound, the second one I feel sure is defective. Here are two boggy places, which will get worse in two weeks' time from now, when the streams rise. It rained heavily two days ago, and these summer storms on the Vosges swell the rivers rapidly. You would have" Here M. Percival looked inquisitively at the general for an instant, and then came to a full pause.

"Is this plan yours?" said the general, taking out of his pocket the bit of flimsy tracing-paper and placing it over the engraved map.

I think it must be," replied M. Percival. "I see that it differs slightly from the original," said the general.

"Only because, sir, as was suggested to M. Delange, some alterations on the road were to be made, and, having been in the library a day or so ago, I made the proposed changes."

"You are the very man I want, then. Pray continue, sir."