THE SEINE.
The Seine, which at Paris is a considerable river, not being affected by any tide, and also being protected from the access of such quantities of filth as are conveyed into the Liffey by our public sewers, presents always a clear, and sometimes a limpid, appearance. The banks are a great school of practical patience. There may be seen numerous anglers watching the floats of their lines, and tranquilly awaiting the bite of some unwary member of the finny tribe, whilst hours are absorbed into past time, but without pastime—not even "one glorious nibble" rewarding their perseverance. I have sauntered along the quays of Paris for an hour or two almost every day, and never saw but one capture, which was a small eel. The proprietor of the rod and line seemed very proud of his solitary achievement, and it was evident that he regarded it as an unusual occurrence.
Persons who rescue others from drowning at Paris receive from some public fund, either police or municipal, a reward of twenty francs (16s. 8d.) I have been credibly informed that it is not an infrequent arrangement between two scamps, that one is to fall into the river, and then the other takes a heroic plunge, seizes the sinking victim, and emulates the skill and courage of Cassius, when, "from the waves of Tiber he bore the troubled Cæsar." But the modern Cassius and Cæsar, if the reward is attained, devote it to a gastronomic sacrifice, and feast sumptuously on what was so nobly acquired. A young female on the Quai Voltaire, having excited suspicion by falling too frequently into the river, was told that no reward would be given for any future salvage; consequently the subsequent wettings of her garments were reserved for the washing tub.