Those two months of May and June gave back to Paris the animation and gaiety of the last days of the Empire.  There were many handsome carriages on the Champs-Elysees, filled with pretty, well-dressed women, and the opera and all the theatres were packed.  Paris was illuminated the night of the opening of the exposition, the whole city, not merely the Champs-Elysees and boulevards.  As we drove across the bridge on our way home from the reception at the Elysee, it was a beautiful sight—­the streets full of people waiting to see the foreign royalties pass, and the view up and down the Seine, with the lights from the high buildings reflected in the water—­like fairy-land.

[Illustration:  His Royal Highness, Edward, Prince of Wales, in 1876.  From a photograph by Lock & Whitfield, London.]

The dinners and receptions at the Elysee and at all the ministries those first weeks of the exposition were interesting but so fatiguing.  Happily there were not many lunches nor day entertainments.  I used to get a good drive every afternoon in the open carriage with mother and baby, and that kept me alive.  Occasionally (not often) W. had a man’s dinner, and then I could go with some of my friends and dine at the exposition, which was very amusing—­such a curious collection of people.  The rue des Nations was like a gigantic fair.  We met all our friends, and heard every language under the sun.  Among other distinguished foreign guests that year we had President and Mrs. Grant, who were received everywhere in Europe (England giving the example) like royalties.  When they dined with us at the Quai d’Orsay W. and I went to the top of the great staircase to meet them, exactly as we did for the Prince and Princess of Wales.

It seems funny to me when I think of the very unceremonious manner in which not only ex-presidents but actual presidents were treated in America when I was a child.  I remember quite well seeing a president (I have forgotten which one now) come into the big drawing-room at the old Cozzen’s Hotel at West Point, with two or three gentlemen with him.  There was a certain number of people in the room and nobody moved, or dreamt of getting up.  However, the Grants were very simple—­accepted all the honours shown to them without a pose of any kind.  The marshal gave them a big dinner at the Elysee.  We arrived a little late (we always did) and found a large party assembled.  The Grants came in just after us.

The Marechale said to me:  “The Chinese ambassador will take you to dinner, Madame Waddington.  He is an interesting, clever man, knows England and the English well—­speaks English remarkably well.”  Just before dinner was announced the ambassador was brought up to me.  He was a striking-looking man, tall, broad-shouldered, dignified, very gorgeously attired in light-blue satin, embroidered in bright-coloured flowers and gold and silver designs, and a splendid yellow bird of paradise in his cap.  He didn’t come quite up to me, made me a low