As my visit to you was cut short before I was quite satisfied, it was my intention to seek you again immediately; although I felt some scruples at occupying your valuable time, when I express myself so imperfectly in your language.  But I have been almost constantly ill since, and now am not sure of finding time to pay you my respects before leaving Paris for Italy.  In case this should be impossible, I take the liberty to write, and to present you two little volumes of mine.  It is only as a tribute of respect.  I regret that they do not contain some pieces of mine which might be more interesting to you, as illustrative of the state of affairs in our country.  Some such will find their place in subsequent numbers.  These, I hope, you will, if you do not read them, accept kindly as a salutation from our hemisphere.  Many there delight to know you as a great apostle of the ideas which are to be our life, if Heaven intends us a great and permanent life.  I count myself happy in having seen you, and in finding with you Beranger, the genuine poet, the genuine man of France.  I have felt all the enchantment of the lyre of Beranger; have paid my warmest homage to the truth and wisdom adorned with such charms, such wit and pathos.  It was a great pleasure to see himself.  If your leisure permits, Monsieur, I will ask a few lines in reply.  I should like to keep some words from your hand, in case I should not look upon you more here below; and am always, with gratitude for the light you have shed on so many darkened spirits,

Yours, most respectfully,

MARGARET FULLER.

* * * * *

Paris, Jan., 1847.—­I missed hearing M. Guizot, (I am sorry for it,) in his speech on the Montpensier marriage.  I saw the little Duchess, the innocent or ignorant topic of all this disturbance, when presented at court.  She went round the circle on the arm of the queen.  Though only fourteen, she looks twenty, but has something fresh, engaging, and girlish about her.

I attended not only at the presentation, but at the ball given at the Tuileries directly after.  These are fine shows, as the suite of apartments is very handsome, brilliantly lighted,—­the French ladies surpassing all others in the art of dress; indeed, it gave me much pleasure to see them.  Certainly there are many ugly ones; but they are so well dressed, and have such an air of graceful vivacity, that the general effect was of a flower-garden.  As often happens, several American women were among the most distinguished for positive beauty; one from Philadelphia, who is by many persons considered the prettiest ornament of the dress circle at the Italian opera, was especially marked by the attention of the king.  However, these ladies, even if here a long time, do not attain the air and manner of French women.  The magnetic fluid that envelops them is less brilliant and exhilarating in its attractions.

Among the crowd wandered Leverrier, in the costume of Academician, looking as if he had lost, not found, his planet.  French savants are more generally men of the world, and even men of fashion, than those of other climates; but, in his case, he seemed not to find it easy to exchange the music of the spheres for the music of fiddles.