OUR PARIS MY DEAR C CORRESPONDENT. We are at last able to enjoy our Exhibition without fear of Prussian and "fusil à aiguille" at our heels, at least for a time; we are not sanguine enough to imagine that Monsieur de Bismark will grant us a very long delay, in spite of the promise at the late conference. However, if it be only for two months it will be that gained, and we shall have had time to receive and fête all the crowned heads and grand personages that our newspapers promise us, and of which we have already had an instalment. Several minor sovereigns have begun the long suite of monarchs coming. The young King of Greece was the first, when on his road to Russia for his future Queen. Then the King and Queen of Belgium, who were received in state, the Emperor going with a guard of honour to fetch them at the station. The Queen of Portugal has been for some time at the Palais-Royal with her sister the Princess Clotilde; and their father, Victor Emmanuel, is expected to join them with his son the Prince Amédeé as soon as the young Prince is married. But the most important visitor as yet has been the Prince of Wales, who has gained all our hearts by his affability and estimation of himself as a simple mortal. After two or three state promenades about the Exhibition, he declared that he desired his liberty, and should in future visit the Champ de Mars " sans cérémonie ;" in fact, he managed to escape from his suite on one of his State visits, and was found quietly quaffing a glass of ale at one of the English "buffets." He breakfasted several times at the Exhibition, once with a Grand Duchess of Russia, now in Paris, and seemed to enjoy himself uncommonly "quel charmant jeune homme!" Say the Parisians; not a spark of English “morgue" about him. Lady Cowley, the English Ambassadress, had the honour of receiving him and Prince Alfred at her hotel, where she gave in their honour a very grand fête on the 17th, to which the Emperor and Empress went, as well as all the grandees now in Paris. Her Majesty opened the ball with the Prince of Wales, who proved himself a most indefatigable dancer, remaining until five in the morning in continual activity. On the 18th the Empress entertained her Royal and Imperial visitors at the Tuileries. Three thousand invitations were issued for the ball. Their Majesties visit the Exhibition very frequently in the morning. The Emperor was there the other day with Prince Alfred before ten o'clock. They went all through the English department; spoke to many of the exhibitors. The Empress joined them at eleven, with Prince Oscar of Sweden, and a short time after, she went on board a small Swedish steamer, and, with Prince Oscar at the helm, went down the river to St. Cloud to visit the Prince Imperial, who is there for his health, not being yet well from his accident in the winter, although they say he is much better and has recommenced his daily exercises with his tutor. The concourse of people already attracted to our capital is prodigious; the streets are literally crammed with every conveyance, and yet there are not half enough, which renders the cabmen as impertinent as they possibly can be. They refuse to take you if too far off and no policeman be near to force them. Everyone complains, but what is to be done? It is quite amusingprovided you be not tired yourself-to see the poor creatures casting imploring looks on the drivers as they pass, and the malicious laugh of the latter as they roll away. What will become of us if the increase of strangers continues, which is certain? We are to have the King and Queen of Prussia, who are to lodge at the Tuileries; the Emperor and Empress of Russia (for whom the Palace d'Elysée-Napoléon is preparing), the Emperor of Austria, and the Shah of Persia. The chief physician of the Sultan Mustapha-Pacha has been to choose a salubrious residence for his Sovereign, and the Queen of Madagascar intends sending princes of her family; without counting the sundry princes from kingdoms one only hears of on extra occasions, and who perhaps have no head physician to send, so must risk their precious selves with us without guarantee of perfect health. You may imagine the dinners and balls given to welcome all these strangers! Ministers and ambassadors vie with each other in luxury and splendour, as do all who surround the present dynasty. As for the old nobility, they have shut up their houses, and are off to the country. A grand banquet is talked of amongst the journalists, to be offered to the foreign journal'ists, and to be given in the Palace of the Champ de Mars. There have already been several, the most curious one offered by the Baron Lesseps, in the name of the Bey of Tunis, at his palace in the reserved park-an exquisite specimen, we are told, of oriental architecture. Six horsemen, in national costume, performed a fantasia before the palace at the commencement of the fête; each lady, on entering, received a bouquet, and in the patis (or inner court) was a Tunisian orchestra of Frenchmen-playing Tunisian music, while Tunisian water fell in cascades from the marble fountain surrounded with burning perfuming pans (Tunisian also I suppose), so that nothing lacked to transport us to the East but Tunisian men and women. It is the same at the Chinese theatre also, in the reserved park. Everyone hastens to see how the dramatic art flourishes in the Celestial empire Alas! "what a falling-off is there!" the only things celestial are the two men employed to draw the curtain, who seem to enjoy the representation as much as the spectators. The three celestial ladies exposed as specimens of the race have such small feet that they cannot walk, and are only perceived at a distance illumined with a coloured light. I suspect that they are got up for the occasion, and were French before being Chinese. However, after having spent the day in admiring the progress of arts and industry, a very agreeable evening may be passed in this reserved park, which only shuts up at eleven, and is nightly crowded. Only beware of the restaurants (eating-houses): you don't dine there for nothing. In some of them all kinds of arts are employed, I am told, to make you pay more than the cartes announce, and yet at one, three thousand people one day were accommodated. All round the outside of the Palace is a verandah which contains these places of refreshment-an arrangement that will be very agreeable during the heat of summer; particularly if the season be as sultry as prognosticated. At another fête given in the salon of the International Club-house, forty guide-interpreters, holding their national flag, stood on each step up the staircase on both sides. A band played music uniting all the national airs known; and amongst other toasts, the former tutor of the Prince-Royal of Prussia drank to mothers of families and to the preservation of their sons, which was responded to with enthusiasm. Apropos of Prussia, L'Independence Belge published the other day a curious advertisement: "I hear [says a certain Baculus, school-master] that Prussia intends sending a model school-house to the Exhibition. If she would like to accompany it with a specimen of a starving school-master, I offer myself, for a small remuneration, a living model for that Ex hibition." jockeys and others employed in the stables. The man posted in this place, seeing the Egyptians arrive, thought of course that he was to weigh them, so without further ado, but to the great astonishment of the four men, he put one after the other into the scale, and took their exact weight conscientiously. The Egyptians did not appear to relish exactly that way of recompensing them, and were wondering what other ceremony was in store for them, when the aide-de-camp entered, and roared at the sight of what was going on, the recital of which soon put the Caulaincourt Court into fits, the victims as well as the rest, when the mistake was explained-and another sort of proof of the Emperor's generosity in their pockets. Mdlle. Carlotta Patti has commenced her concerts, with Mdlle. Nilsson and Vieuxtemps, at the Théâtre-Lyrique. There appears to be but one voice in her praise; the most difficult in criticisms bow to her superior talent. You are only to have our Nilsson for a short time in London. She is to return to the Grand Opera afterwards-much to our satisfaction. The new opera, "Romeo and Juliette," has been well received. A crowded house nightly applauds Madame Mialon-Carvalho as Juliette. The Emperor has ordered, for the 7th of June, a splendid entertainment for his royal and imperial visitors. The Grand Opera is to represent two ballets, and two scenes in "L'Africaine," especially for his guests. No one will be admitted but those who have received invitations. At a representation of the "Africaine" the other night, the Queen of Belgium, who is a passionate lover of music, sent for Madame Gass, the prima donna, and, after complimenting her very warmly, took off a bracelet she had on her arm, and gave it to the delighted actress. Offenbach is preparing another opera (Robinson Crusoe) which is to be played in a few days. The "Gaiété" regales us with an historical drama ("Queen Elizabeth's Will"), which promises well, although a fantastical arAs to tell you what is to be seen in our Ex-rangement of real history. You think, perhaps, hibition would be impossible, the only way to get an idea of it is to come and see it, forming as it does quite a chaos in one's brain. All is now almost finished, though the hammer is still to be heard in many places in the parks. The Viceroy of Egypt has sent his yacht for us to admire. When it passed, the other day, near Beaucaire, the inhabitants flocked on the banks of the Rhone to get a glimpse of it before us; but they were deceived, it being covered with a canvas as far as the water. The Viceroy also sent, a short time since, several splendid horses as presents to their Imperial Majesties and the young Prince, who, of course, admired and accepted them. The four Egyptians who led the animals were ordered to go to the Louvre, to receive a present in their turn. When they arrived at the hotel of the "grand ecuyer," his Excellence was engaged, and ordered his aidede-camp to introduce the four horsemen into a room near the stables, called "The Balance," because they weigh here, on enormous scales, that we are not a very modest and scrupulous The festivities of the Exhibition must not make me forget the election of Monsieur Jules Favre, our famous counsellor and liberal deputy, and Father Gratry, as members of the Académie Françoise-two men as opposite in principle as it is possible to be. "It is from a spirit of evangelical charity I imagine," said the Emperor, when Monsieur de Falloux went to the Tuileries to have the election confirmed by his Majesty, "that the same body should choose for its members two men so entirely different." "It is rather," answered Monsieur de Falloux, "from the spirit of her mission that the Académie has so done. She is the Republique des Lettres, and, as such, has no party spirit." Napoleon was evidently annoyed at Jules Favre's election; but during the interview with Monsieur de Falloux avoided mentioning any name. He only questioned that gentleman on Father Gratry's works, and expressed his sympathy for the talented priest. He then turned the conversation on the famous Plantagenet statues, and on the Abbey of Fontevrault, once so celebrated, and which he seems inclined to have restored. Report says that Queen Victoria is coming to Paris, and that she will be at the grand féte Prince Metternich, the Austrian Ambassador, intends giving in honour of his sovereign. If so, every monarch in Europe will visit our Exhibition. However shall we be able to live with com mon mortals after such distinguished guests! Adieu! Yours truly, S. A. LEAVES FOR THE LITTLE ONES. THE TWO SPRINGS. BY DELLA DANE. Away off in a little valley among the mountains stood a huge rock; not the size of a doorstone or a mile-post, but a great rock as large as a house, and a great deal larger than some houses. From beneath it on one side gurgled a little spring, clear, sparkling, and cold; and from beneath it on the other side gushed forth another exactly like it; and these two springs wound off in tiny little streams, separated only by a ridge of yellow sand and pebbles, and a few rocks. One bright, pleasant morning one little stream spoke to the other, and asked it what it was going to do all its life long; if it was forever going to loiter around the old rock from beneath which it bubbled, or if it was going to push onward through the valley, and try to be useful to the tiny flowers and tall trees that might need its moist coolness to make them grow more beautiful? The stream replied that it saw no use in working so hard for nothing, that it was very happy where it was, and would be content to remain there forever. So there it stayed, and was delighted with winding itself up into little eddies about the rocks and knarled roots of the old trees, in travelling back and forth through its own little channel, and humming pleasant tunes to the few wild-flowers that grew on its borders, and in scooping out little shady basins, where beautiful birds came and dipped their beaks and bathed their glossy plumage. It was a very pleasant life for the little stream to live, and it was very happy; but it would not grow any larger, so it was obliged to grow smaller. Rocks tumbled down the sides of the mountain and obstructed its passage; the wind blew the sand into it, and the rain washed dirt and leaves and pebbles into it and entirely choked it up, and all the life it had left oozed away through the sand about the old rock. The other little stream pushed vigorously onward in its course. Whenever it came to a ridge of sand, or bank of clay, it boldly went forward till it worked its passage through; when it came to a large rock, or any other insurmountable object, it patiently crept around it and then merrily glided along on its journey. In its passage through the mountain valleys, other streams would come leaping down over the rocks, and seeing it so bravely pushing forward, would empty their waters into it, and all would glide along merrily together. In this way, by the time it reached the last of the mountain ranges, and was ready to start out through the more level country, it had become a beautiful stream. Thus onward it journeyed for miles and miles, all the time growing larger and larger. Tall trees waved above it, beautiful vines and flowering shrubs grew upon its banks, and grass of the tenderest green crept quite down to its margin to drink of its rippling waters. By-and-by the Indian came out of his home in the woods, launched his little canoe upon the stream, and glided gaily down the current. Then others and others would come with their painted canoes, and by moonlight would sing their warsongs and boast of their brave deeds, while their oars carried them forward to scenes of new exploits; and merrily the stream would dance and sparkle to find itself in such brave company. After many miles more had been passed, the white trapper came, and built his house of logs on its bank, and trapped the beaver, and hunted One of them said he intended to work hard and save all his money, till he had enough to take him to school; and then he would study very hard and learn everything that he could, and then, maybe, when he was a man, he would be a professor in a college, or maybe a lawyer or a minister. the wild bear and other animals that lived in | fence, and talked of what they intended to do the woods. Then onward, onward the stream when they grew to be men. would glide through dense forests, sometimes tumbling aud foaming over great rocks, and sometimes gliding peacefully along with scarcely a ripple on its bosom. Then it would come to great prairies where the sun looked down all day, and saw neither tree nor shrub-nothing but the tall prairie grass. Here, troops of wild horses would come to the stream and drink, and herds of great, bellowing buffalo would come in the evening, and stand in the water to cool themselves. By-and-by the stream grew so wide and deep that it became a river, and they called it the Missouri; and white men built their homes near it, and made their farms, and raised their cattle; and beautiful children came and played upon its banks, and sometimes even in its waters. The other boy said he did not like to work very well, but he supposed he would have to, soon; but then he never intended to go to school; he didn't see the use of learning every thing; and then, as to being a professor, or a lawyer, they looked too cross and grim to suit him. He thought it would be more fun to be and see so many fine sights; or else he would a showman, and go round with the circuses, live in a city, and keep a nice saloon, and sell all kinds of liquors and confectioneries, and get very rich. So he spent all his spare time in idling about the streets and in the woods. When he became older, he took to visiting taverns, and learned to drink and swear; and at last he broke his mother's heart by running off with a company of showmen and joining a circus, where he stayed till he became a miserable drunkard, and died, and was buried in a drunkard's grave. Then the Indian's canoe disappeared, and the white man launched his boat and carried his furs to the south. Then towns began to be built upon its shores, and many of the old trees of the forest fell beneath the woodman's axe. Farther on, and the towns grew to be cities, and the flat-bottomed boats became steamboats, carrying within them hundreds of men, women, and children. Thus onward and onward it went, until one day it came to another majestic river, but without stopping one instant, it gave a headlong plunge and mingled its waters with The other little boy worked a great deal in the waters of the Mississippi. Then it went on his mother's garden. When they had more and on, and the earth grew warm. The orange fruit and vegetables than they needed for their and the fig-tree grew upon its banks, and rice own use, his mother allowed him to sell them and cotton and sugar-cane grew on the planta- and keep the money for his own. In this way, tions near; and black, woolly-headed negroes and by working a little for other people, he soon would steal out of their cabins and cast stealthy saved money enough to buy all the books be glances at the great moving palaces that floated needed, and to take him to school one term. so peacefully upon the bosom of the broad river. He studied very diligently in school, and still Wider and wider it grew, till after awhile, look- spent his mornings and evenings at work, and, ing before it, it saw the great ocean ready to by the time his first term was out, was able to receive it into its bosom. Then it looked back- go again. By still pursuing this course, by the wards over its long journey through mountain time he was old enough, he was prepared to and plain, through forest and prairie, and enter college, and had saved money enough to through cold and heat. It remembered the old pay his way through, respectably. At last, he rock in the mountain valley, and the little play-graduated with the highest honours, and was mate it had ere it started out on its travels. Then it rushed forward again, and soon became a part of the great ocean, free to roam at will around the whole world. Once there were two little boys who lived close neighbours to each other, their mothers' gardens being separated only by a low, board fence. Their fathers were both dead, and their mothers had to work very hard, and be very saving, in order to support their families. The little boys always had plenty to eat and did not have to go half naked and cold, as many poor little children have to do; but their mothers could not save money enough to buy them books and send them to school. One afternoon the two little boys sat in the hade of a large elm-tree that grew near the then prepared to enter the world a wise and Little boys, which would you be like, the stream that dried up at its source, or the one that flowed lands, and finally became a part of the great on and became a great river, and visited many ocean? Which will you be, the idle boy that spent all his time foolishly and died a drunkard, or the industrious boy that became a great man? MEMS OF THE MONT H. the consequent condition of people's temper, must be considered as something remarkable. The Downs themselves were by no means so crowded as usual, and the itinerant vendors of gingerbread, the setters-up of Aunt-Sallies, and the proprietors of knock-'em-downs must have, indeed, had a bad time of it. During lunchtime our plates were filled with hailstones, but whilst the Derby was being run the weather was perhaps at its best; after that it gradually became worse and worse, till it culminated in a severe snow-storm. Happy the man who, on that occasion, was inside a vehicle. It is true he might be somewhat crowded, and he might be somewhat overwhelmed by voluminous skirts; but eyes were bright and laughter was joyous, and, considering all things, he was not so badly off under the circumstances. Long before Your Bohemian attended the, which, considering the state of the weather and Derby, many years before he was a Bohemianwhen his knowledge of racing was confined to unsatisfactory toddles round the nursery, and his acquaintance with the mysterious land of Bohemia was a delicious misty mélange of "Jack the Giant Killer," 66 Aladdin," and the "Forty Thieves"- -a race was run at Epsom during a terrific snowstorm. The winner of this race was a horse named Bloomsbury, and ever since the extraordinary circumstances connected with the Derby of that period, "Bloomsbury's year" has been celebrated. Many a time has Y. B. heard this memorable occurrence talked about by certain middle-aged individuals, and heard the circumstance quoted with reference to weather on Epsom Downs; but he always felt inclined to regard the snowstorm as a somewhat mythical invention, which was pleasant to people of "infinite reminiscence" to talk about. But on the day that Hermit carried off the blue ribbon of the turf he was able to realize the weather of the Derby of '39 in all its repulsive details. What a day it was! Despite thick great-coats and voluminous sealskin jackets, umbrellas, and mackintoshes, it was impossible to keep either warm or dry. The wintry blast, the pitiless hail and sleet and snow were something miserable. All this had a chilling and depressing effect upon the passengers en route to Epsom and the spectators assembled to see them pass. That most attractive and impudent form of walking advertisement, Miss Demure's Establishment for Young Ladies, located in the sober and decorous groves of chaste Clapham, looked infinitely miserable: they shivered with cold, they shrugged up their shoulders, they dove their hands deep into their muffs or the pockets of their sealskin jackets, and had not even a good-humoured pout, a toss of the head, or an œillade to bestow upon the drag-full of solemn tawny guardsmen, who threw them some Dutch dolls as they passed. Indeed, it may be surmised that they would infinitely rather have been hard at work "practising," or conjugating French verbs, than shivering with cold on the Epsom Road. The young gentlemen, the alumni of Dr. Canem's Classical Academy, did not seem in much better spirits, and used not their pea-shooters and missiles with the same impudence and strength as of yore. Margaret, the cook, attended to her master's dinner, and Jane, the housemaid, vouchsafed not to glance from the drawing-room window, and it was only some young, obscure and inexperienced kitchenmaid, who ventured to wave a furtive duster from a top attic as we passed. At no place on the road was there a block of any magnitude, and I only saw one break-down and two fights, It is satisfactory to know that the performance in aid of the Bennett Fund at the Adelphi was very successful in a pecuniary point of view: it is said nearly five hundred pounds was realized. To one who has witnessed an infinite number of amateur performances-good, bad, and indifferent the entertainment seemed somewhat heavy; there seemed to be a weariness about the audience which is not usual on such occasions, and which we never observed at the famous "Amateur Pantomime," the "Frozen Deep," by Mr. Charles Dickens and his friends, for the Jerrold Fund, or the various performances of the Savage Club. The fact was, the amateurs gave rather too generous a bill of fare. The " Sheep in Wolf's Clothing" might well have been dispensed with; it is a heavy piece at the best of times. If the Moray Minstrels had sung but half the number of their charming glees and choruses they would have been more highly appreciated by the audience. The best things in the programme were Mr. Burnand's "Cox and Box," which was admirably played and sung by Messrs. Blunt and Quintin and Du Maurier. The latter gentleman also greatly distinguished himself, in conjunction with Mr. Harold Power, in Offenbach's musical farce "Les Deux Aveugles." Besides the gentleman already mentioned, Mr. Mark Lemon shone conspicuous as being far in advance of his brethren in histrionic talent: indeed, as everyone knows, he is an old and valued stager on the amateur boards. Miss Kate Terry performed her part charmingly. By-the-way, the playgoing world will learn with regret that this talented young actress will shortly retire from the stage; and will, it is said, before long, be married to Mr. Arthur Lewis. The "Wild Goose," which was produced at the end of last month at the Haymarket, still holds its place in the bills, and continues to form the pièce de resistance of the house, in |