family of Europe, a family that carried its affections and virtues equally through the saddest and most splendid experiences.  They could not sympathize with the oppressive and military character of the present dynasty and the crowd of time-serving adventurers that swarmed around it.  The life of the younger lady was devoted to her aunt, and all the spare hours that remained to her from those occupied by the lessons she was compelled to give, to increase their scanty income, were passed in her society.  I have seldom seen a life of such entire self-denial as that led by this refined and delicate woman.  The third figure of this family group, the old servant, Marie, was a character peculiar to France.  She seemed rather a companion than a servant, though she performed all the duties of the latter, keeping the rooms in neatest order, and making better coffee than I found at the most splendid restaurants.  She had a clear blue eye, with one of the most faithful expressions I ever saw on human face, and seemed to take as much interest in me and the two American boys as if we had been her children.  She was the housekeeper, buying all their little supplies; but when her labors were over, passing her leisure hours in the society of the ladies she had so long served.  I soon saw that the connection between these three beings would be terminated only by death.  The chief difference in the two ladies and their faithful old bonne, beyond the circumstance of better education and greater refinement, was that for the former the outer world no longer had much interest, while the old Marie still seemed to retain a keen relish for what was going on around her, and often amused me by the eagerness with which she would enter into trifling details of gossip and general news.  After sight-seeing all day, and the experiences of a stranger in Paris, I was often glad to join the trio in their little parlor, and talk over the Paris of former days, during its revolutions and fetes, or answer their questions about my every-day ramblings or my American home.  I felt, during these evenings, a relief from the general routine of places of amusement, enjoyed their home-like quiet, and knew I could always give pleasure by varying the monotony of these ladies’ every-day life.  So the three, so devoted to each other, lived quietly on, winning my respect and sympathy.  I left them, with many regrets on their part and my own, and on my return, after an absence of nearly a year, one of my first visits was to these kind-hearted people.  To my sorrow, I learned that death had removed the elder lady some months before.  I could hardly imagine a death that would longer or more painfully affect a family group than this, for they had so few outward circumstances to distract their thoughts.  They received me cordially; but grief for their irreparable loss was always visible in every subsequent interview I had with them.  Meeting again one of the school-boys who had lodged there, he told me the following circumstances