TO THE MISSES TORREY.
Paris, April 1, 1889, Monday evening.
My dear Girls,—It is rather late, and I have no fire in my room, to which I have just now returned, but it is nearly comfortable without one, and so we will have a few words together before I sleep. My last and long sheet was closed, I think, on Friday evening. On Saturday my morning was spent as usual at the Jardin des Plantes; returning from whence I looked along the shops and so on to the Pont du Louvre, which I crossed; passed through the Palais Royal at the most busy season, when it is all lighted up splendidly, and dined at the Restaurant Colbert at half past seven. I am patiently exploring (I should say eating) my way through the mazes of French cookery, and am trying to select from the complicated bill of fare the more peculiar and national dishes, some of which are excellent, others so-so, or very poor....
To-day I have been again at the Garden, working as hard as possible, since I have so little time remaining. I dined at half past six at one of the famous restaurants, just to see how it was managed, and returning spent the early part of the evening with Mr. Webb, who lives near me.
On my way from the Garden, I stopped at another church. I believe the only remaining one of large size and much interest which I had not already seen.... It is called St. Severin, and is very old, having been built in the year 1210.
This is the first of April, and a fine spring day it has been, though the season is little more advanced than at New York. In two weeks I must be again upon the wing, and shall soon meet the summer. I want to see the south of France and sunny Italy. Adieu.
Tuesday evening, April 2.—I intended to have had time this evening to write several letters, but Decaisne has been with me, and did not leave until almost twelve, we had so much to talk about. I have been all the morning at the Garden; have worked very hard, indeed, and have nearly finished there. To-morrow is like to be a broken day, as I have made an engagement to see Dr. Montagne[80] and his microscope at twelve o’clock, which will take an hour or two out of the very best part of the day. I will try to turn the fragments of the day to some account. But now good-night.
“To each, to all, a fair good-night,
And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.”
Monday evening, April 8.... Saturday was a little more diversified. I went at eight o’clock in the morning to Professor Richard’s,[81] who lives near me, examined some plants of Michaux, then took my breakfast, went to the Garden for three or four hours, but returned at two o’clock to see the Chamber of Peers in session, M. Gay having provided me with a ticket of admittance, which procured me a very good seat. The members all wear a kind of court dress, the military peers swords, and those who have them display the insignia of the order of the Legion of Honor, and so forth. Several new peers were admitted, but before they were introduced, a number of peers made some remarks which could not have been very flattering to them, the creation of a new batch just at this time having given much dissatisfaction to the old ones. Among others, I heard a little speech from the famous Marshal Soult. Lord Brougham, who is now in Paris, was present. I recognized him across the room by his homely face, which he is in the habit of twitching and contorting incessantly, as if it pained him. He seemed to listen with much attention.
In the evening I paid a visit to Mr. Spach,[82] looked over plants and so forth until ten o’clock, returned shivering with cold, for the weather here is like March in New York. I am now sitting by a large fire, and yet I am shivering.