bar of iron, and laboured away with all the energy of a coal-heaver until he had succeeded in detatching a large piece from a superb marble column, standing in what had been the private chapel of the Empress. This act was, a few days after, surpassed by one yet more outrageous, for a brute actually dragged a cross from the head of a grave, on the field of Champiegne. The most extraordinary proof, however, that I ever witnessed of the passion for relic-hunting, was shewn on the scene of a skirmish, near the Chateau Meudon, (once the residence of Prince Napoleon.) This occurrence, although not so discreditable as the two last mentioned, was very much more dangerous to myself and the other companions of the principal actor in it. The shells chiefly used in modern warfare, are, I believe, exploded by percussion, and it sometimes happens that when a shell falls on soft ground it does not burst. Our enthusiastic friend found one of these unexploded shells, and wished to bring it into the omnibus, (in which conveyance we had been making our tour of inspection.) After much explanation he at length realized the fact that if the jolting of the omnibus should explode the shell (a very likely event), his sight-seeing would be ended forever. So, with a sigh, he relinquished the coveted treasure. After our escape from being blown into atoms, we visited Fort Issy, the one which perhaps suffered the most during the siege; here we saw a specimen of the bread on which the garrison of the Fort had, for a long time, been compelled to subsist. In appearance, consistency, and almost with regard to its nourishing qualities, this bread resembled nothing more than "Kilbey's Fire Kindlings."

The battle fields around Paris, very much resembled one another, in the trampled nature of the ground, and in the large mounds marked by rude wooden crosses, beneath which scores of men lay indiscriminately buried.

Friday, March the 17th, 1871, will ever be indelibly imprinted on my mind. On this day began the outbreak which by the following Sunday had developed into an organized revolution. In the morning I had visited St. Denis, in the cathedral of which lie buried the ancient kings of France. Having returned in the evening, I was about to sit down to dinner, when, to my surprise, every one present rushed to the windows. On asking the reason, I was informed that two men had, at that moment passed down the street, beating what might literally be termed the "Devil's

tattoo," for it was to call to arms men who afterwards proved themselves perfect fiends. In a short time the streets were filled with armed bands, shouting the Marseillaise. Never shall I forget the Marseillaise, as I then heard it sung, by thousands of voices. Even in a drawing room, the chorus commencing "Aux armes ! Citoyens," stirs the blood: its effect may be imagined when it formed, in sad earnest, an appeal inciting men to slay or be slain. When a sufficient number had been collected, the insurgents dispersed themselves over the city, and began to erect barricades. A barricade is formed by pulling up paving stones, and piling them to the height of a man's breast half across a street, on the one side, and then raising a wall in a similar manner, half across on the other; the first wall being about half a yard behind the second, leaving space for but one person to go through at a time; this opening was guarded by an armed man, who would often turn back those who attempted to pass. But whatever have been the sins of the Commune at this time, ingratitude for the relief sent by England to the starving Parisians, was not one of them. Any person who was recognized as an Englishman, or who had an English passport, was allowed to go unmolested, in any part of the city, even in those hot beds of lawlessness, Montmartre and Belleville. On Sunday the 19th of March, the day on which the Commune openly proclaimed itself in opposition to the government of Theirs, I visited Versailles, where the National Assembly was then sitting. It is to the supineness and excessive caution of this body, that most of the evils which afterwards befell the capital of France, have been by many persons ascribed. On this Sunday all the regular troops were marched out of Paris, by the order of the Assembly, who feared that they would join the Communists. While at Versailles, I had an illustration of the utter saplessness, and want of energy exhibited by those who leave England to live on the Continent, (and there are many such at Versailles,) in order to eke out an insufficient income, which they are too lazy to increase by honest labour. I saw a man of this stamp, sunning himself on a bench, and asked him the way to the house in which Bismarck had lodged. Far from knowing, he seemed hardly aware that the man who was swaying the destinies of France was in existence. I enquired if he had been much incommoded by the siege. He replied in a listless manner, "Oh, no!"

I remained in Paris but two days after the troops had quitted it. In that time, however, I saw some very extraordinary extremes. In the Place Vendôme, at the foot of the column (which was then standing), a man is addressing a maddened crowd in the most violent language, boasting that many others should share the fate of Generals Thomas and Lecomte. In the very next street are men, women and children laughing around a mountebank, and apparently as free from care as if they were living in a profound peace, instead of being in the midst of a revolution which had been inaugurated by one of the most cowardly and bloody acts that history records. In one square, a band of drunken wretches are yelling about what they term a tree of liberty. This consists of a withered trunk, on top of which is a red cap. Outside a café, not a hundred yards distant, is a party of pleasure seekers smoking and drinking absinthe.

For the first week during the reign of the Commune, the insurgents, although the city was completely at their mercy, exercised their power with comparative moderation. I therefore had no opportunity of witnessing any of those excesses, which afterwards rendered the name of the Commune so infamous. In the following July, however, on returning from a trip to Italy, I again visited Paris, and could hardly recognize what had once formed its most beautiful portion. The statues in the Place de Concorde were mutilated; the Tuileries sacked; the greater part of the Rue de Rivoli and the Palais Royale destroyed; the Hotel de Ville in ruins. The ruins are certainly very great; but the capital of France, as a whole, has suffered much less than is generally supposed, and it will not be long before it regains its former position as one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

LA QUEBRADA DE LAS ANIMAS.

BY MONS. JULES C. L. MORAZAIN, PROFESSOR OF MODERN LANGUAGES. HAD remained some time at the Mina Restauradora. During my stay I had had the singular good fortune to form the acquaintance of the celebrated savant and traveller, Von Tschudi, and had been forced to go through a regular course of Geology and Mineralogy. At every step, at every meal, all the "scientists"

of the mine discussed the formation of this crystallization, the properties of such a salt, the per centage of such a stone, and "tutti quanti." I appreciated all this at first, and, although blushing at my own ignorance, I felt quite proud of being in the same company with men so learned. But, after a while, I thought they were "going it too strong" for me. My mind was saturated with these subjects. I had only oxides, sulphates, manganates and the rest, on the brain. I not only knew what constituted the difference between a marble and felspar, but I could tell the name of a mineral at sight. The dose had been administered usque ad nauseam; so I turned to other ideas. I went down into the valley; but a few days there were enough for me. I admired the grandeur of the scenery before me, deeming Nature, in her wild state, something really worthy of admiration. But again I grew tired. At last, we had been for several days without meat, save a "guanaco" occasionally shot; we had been living upon bread made of bran and a handful of "pasas de higos"-dried figs; the last sensation had been seeing a few bullocks, which had been sent us from Santa Maria, come close to our door, and then, as if comprehending the fate in store for them, turn their horns towards the plain and run. Then, I had been present at the burial of a countryman of mine, Louis Bisson, who had been killed by the premature explosion of a charge in a mine, and at the funeral of a child, which ceremony had been, according to the strange custom of the place, followed at night by a regular wailing, shouting, crying, dancing, drinking, discharging of fire-arms, and other singular accompaniments. Being, as I have said, rather weary of all this, I concluded to leave this scene, to return either to Andalgala or to San Antonio de Madrigasta, and to wait there till the Pass in the Cordillera should be opened. No sooner was my mind made up than I prepared to depart. I thought I would go by the way of Chollás, where a friend of mine was engaged in superintending the foundry, or establishment for the reduction of the copper ore into metal. To be sure, I did not know the way; but I depended upon my own sagacity. I had already received my first lesson (and a severe one, too) in this kind of adventure; still, I was not a bit the wiser.

When I communicated to my host (M. HOST) the determination I had formed, in vain did he and Rouquairol and M. Hopkins try to dissuade me from such an undertaking. The natives, too, spoke

to me of a chasm which, they said, was bewitched, and urged upon me some superstitious kind of preparation against the dangers of the journey. Besides, if I would only delay my start a day or two, one of the superintendents of the adjacent mine would be going that way, and I could join him. But no;-I had made up my mind, and go I must.

They replenished my "alforjas" with dry bread, figs, yerba, etc; I saddled my horse, for my mules had died from the effects of the tembladera, and started. How elated I did feel, going alone on my exploring tour! I admired every bush, every wild plant. I amused myself by collecting "arca," which makes an infusion almost as good as tea; I broke a hundred stones with my hammer, expecting to discover some new vein or bed of ore. At length I thought it was proper to encamp somewhere, anywhere, as an old, experienced traveller (for so I considered myself) should, and I built a fire, put some water over it, made maté, and so forth, in short, I did things in a grand manner and on a large scale. Then I resumed my travelling. In the course of a few hours I met a friend of mine, Don Bernardo Delgado; we exchanged a couple of cigarritos, we spoke of the weather, and, after the invariable "Buenas Noches !" we separated. Soon after I had left him I discovered that I had not followed the right track,-in a word, that I was lost. Still, I kept on. I ought to have given water to my horse at a place where a fine spring is found: I forgot all about it. Night came on. I wandered to the right, to the left, in every direction, until it became so dark that the brute, wiser than the man, seemed two or three times to show me, by his actions, that it was almost insane to persist in such conduct. Still, I went on. Before long I lost my course completely we had struck the side of a “Paniz,”—that is, a place composed of soft, impalpable, dark earth; and, finally, it being too dark to proceed further, I had to stop. I put the "maneas" (hobbles) on my horse, and secured him also with my lasso; I spread the "jergas" on the ground, nibbled some biscuit, ate some figs, and having confided myself to the care of Providence, fell asleep.

Evohe!

Early in the morning I awoke and looked around me. I found myself in a bad predicament; I hardly could understand how I had been able to reach such a place. Behind was the mountain, before and below was a chasm. Far away I could see the "Llanos;" I could even distinguish the famous mount of Fiam