But Marie didn’t do right. Carelessness, oppression, neglect of the people’s rights, a few grasping the wealth of the nation while the people suffer and starve, weave bloody colors into the warp and woof of life from Paris to New York and Washington, D. C., and so on to Jonesville. And we went through the apartments of Louis Philippe, Francis I., Louis XIII., etc., and Madam Maintenon’s apartments and Diana de Poyter’s, and seen her monogram decorating the apartment interwoven with the king’s. I hated to see it, but couldn’t do nothin’ to break it up at this late day. Miss Meechim walked through these apartments with her nose in the air, having sent Dorothy into the garden with Robert Strong and Tommy, and Arvilly wouldn’t cross the thresholt, and I didn’t blame her, though havin’ my lawful pardner by my side I ventered.
But Arvilly led off into the beautiful gardens, where we found her settin’ with Robert Strong and Dorothy and Tommy by the fountain.
We wanted to explore the forests of Fontainbleu, but only had time for a short drive through it, but found it most picturesque and beautiful what we see of it.
Bein’ such a case for freedom, Arvilly wanted to see the Column of July riz up on the site of the old prison of the Bastile. And I did, too. I felt considerable interested in this prison, havin’ seen the great key that used to lock up the prisoners at Mount Vernon––a present to our own George Washington from that brave Frenchman and lover of liberty, Lafayette.
A brave man held in lovin’ remembrance by our country, and I spoze always will be, as witness his noble statute gin by our school children to France this present year. That his statute and G. Washington’s should be gin to France by America, and that Josiah Allen’s wife and Josiah should 310 also be permitted to adorn their shores simeltaneous and to once, what a proud hour for France! Well might she put her best foot forrerd and act happy and hilarious!
But to resoom: The last afternoon of our stay in Paris, Arvilly and I went to see the Column of July, accompanied by my pardner, Miss Meechim and Dorothy havin’ gone to a matinée, and Robert Strong havin’ took Tommy with him to see some interestin’ sight. And I had a large number of emotions as we stood there and thought of all the horrows that had took place there, and see way up on top of the lofty column the Genius of Liberty holdin’ in one hand the broken chains of captives and holdin’ up in her other hand the torch of liberty.
But I methought to myself she’s got to be careful, Liberty has, or that torch will light up more’n she wants it to. Liberty is sometimes spelt license in France and in our own country, but they don’ mean the same thing, no, indeed! We hung round there in that vicinity seein’ the different sights, and Josiah took it in his head that we should take our supper outdoors; he said he thought it would be real romantic, and I shouldn’t wonder if it wuz. ’Tennyrate, that is one of the sights of Paris to see the gayly dressed throngs happy as kings and queens, seemin’ly eatin’ outdoors. Lights shinin’ over ’em, gay talk and laughter and music sparklin’ about ’em.
Well, Josiah enjoyed the eppisode exceedingly, but it made it ruther late when we started back to the tarven through the brightly lighted streets and anon into a more deserted and quiet one, and on one of these last named we see a man, white-headed and bent in figger, walkin’ along before us, who seemed to be actin’ dretful queer. He would walk along for quite a spell, payin’ no attention to anybody seemin’ly, when all at once he would dart up clost to some young girl, and look sharp at her, and then slink back agin into his old gait.
Thinkses I is he crazy or is he some old fool that’s love 311 sick. But his actions didn’t seem to belong to either of the classes named. And finally right under a lamp post he stopped to foller with his eager eyes a graceful, slim young figger that turned down a cross street and we come face to face with him.
It wuz Elder Wessel––it wuz the figger I had seen at the morgue––but, oh, the change that had come over the poor creeter! Hair, white as snow; form, bowed down; wan, haggard face; eyes sunken; lookin’ at us with melancholy sombry gaze that didn’t seem to see anything. Josiah stepped up and held out his hand, and sez: “Elder, I’m glad to see you, how do you do? You don’t look very rugged.”