The first day we called on Professor Depesyrons.  After making all our arrangements for books and lectures, he suddenly turned to my daughter, and, pointing to the flounces on her dress, her jaunty hat, and some flowers in a buttonhole, he smiled, and said:  “All this, and yet you love mathematics?” As we entered the court, on our way to the Lycee and inquired for the professor’s lecture room, the students in little groups watched us closely.  The one who escorted us asked several questions, and discovered, by our accent, that we were foreigners, a sufficient excuse for the novelty of our proceeding.  The professor received us most graciously, and ordered the janitor to bring us chairs, table, paper, and pencils.

Then we chatted pleasantly until the hour arrived for his lecture.  As I had but little interest in the subject, and as the problems were pronounced in a foreign tongue, I took my afternoon nap.  There was no danger of affronting the professor by such indifference to his eloquence, as he faced the blackboard, filling it with signs and figures as rapidly as possible; then expunging them to refill again and again, without a break in his explanations; talking as fast as his hand moved.  Harriot struggled several days to follow him, but found it impossible, so we gave up the chase after cubes and squares, and she devoted herself wholly to the study of the language.  These were days, for me, of perfect rest and peace.  Everything moved as if by magic, no hurry and bustle, never a cross or impatient word spoken.  As only one or two of the sisters spoke English, I could read under the trees uninterruptedly for hours.  Emerson, Ruskin, and Carlyle were my chosen companions.

We made several pleasant acquaintances among some Irish families who were trying to live on their reduced incomes in Toulouse.  One of these gave us a farewell ball.  As several companies of the French army were stationed there, we met a large number of officers at the ball.  I had always supposed the French were graceful dancers.  I was a quiet “looker on in Vienna,” so I had an opportunity of comparing the skill of the different nationalities.  All admitted that none glided about so easily and gracefully as the Americans.  They seemed to move without the least effort, while the English, the French, and the Germans labored in their dancing, bobbing up and down, jumping and jerking, out of breath and red in the face in five minutes.  One great pleasure we had in Toulouse was the music of the military band in the public gardens, where, for half a cent, we could have a chair and enjoy pure air and sweet music for two hours.