We visited the Hô；tel des Invalides just as they were preparing the sarcophagus for the reception of the remains of Napoleon. We witnessed the wild excitement of that enthusiastic people， and listened with deep interest to the old soldiers' praises of their great general. The ladies of our party chatted freely with them. They all had interesting anecdotes to relate of their chief. They said he seldom slept over four hours， was an abstemious eater， and rarely changed a servant， as he hated a strange face about him. He was very fond of a game of chess， and snuffed continuously； talked but little， was a light sleeper，杢he stirring of a mouse would awaken him，朼nd always on the watchtower. They said that， in his great campaigns， he seemed to be omnipresent. A sentinel asleep at his post would sometimes waken to find Napoleon on duty in his place.
The ship that brought back Napoleon's remains was the Belle Poule (the beautiful hen！)， which landed at Cherbourg， November 30， 1840. The body was conveyed to the Church of the Invalides， which adjoins the tomb.
The Prince de Joinville brought the body from Saint Helena， and Louis Philippe received it.
At that time each soldier had a little patch of land to decorate as he pleased， in which many scenes from their great battles were illustrated.
One represented Napoleon crossing the Alps. There were the cannon， the soldiers， Napoleon on horseback， all toiling up the steep ascent， perfect in miniature. In another was Napoleon， flag in hand， leading the charge across the bridge of Lodi. In still another was Napoleon in Egypt， before the Pyramids， seated， impassive， on his horse， gazing at the Sphinx， as if about to utter his immortal words to his soldiers： "Here， forty centuries look down upon us." These object lessons of the past are all gone now and the land used for more prosaic purposes.
I little thought， as I witnessed that great event in France in 1840， that fifty-seven years later I should witness a similar pageant in the American Republic， when our nation paid its last tributes to General Grant.
There are many points of similarity in these great events. As men they were alike aggressive and self-reliant. In Napoleon's will he expressed the wish that his last resting place might be in the land and among the people he loved so well. His desire is fulfilled. He rests in the chief city of the French republic， whose shores are washed by the waters of the Seine. General Grant expressed the wish that he might be interred in our metropolis and added： "Wherever I am buried， I desire that there shall be room for my wife by my side." His wishes， too， are fulfilled. He rests in the chief city of the American Republic， whose shores are washed by the waters of the Hudson， and in his magnificent mausoleum there is room for his wife by his side.
Several members of the Society of Friends from Boston and Philadelphia， who had attended the World's Anti-slavery Convention in London， joined our party for a trip on the Continent. Though opposed to war， they all took a deep interest in the national excitement and in the pageants that heralded the expected arrival of the hero from Saint Helena. As they all wore military coats of the time of George Fox， the soldiers， supposing they belonged to the army of some country， gave them the military salute wherever we went， much to their annoyance and our amusement.
In going the rounds， Miss Pugh amused us by reading aloud the description of what we were admiring and the historical events connected with that particular building or locality. We urged her to spend the time taking in all she could see and to read up afterward； but no， a history of France and Galignani's guide she carried everywhere， and， while the rest of us looked until we were fully satisfied， she took a bird's-eye view and read the description. Dear little woman！ She was a fine scholar， a good historian， was well informed on all subjects and countries， proved an invaluable traveling companion， and could tell more of what we saw than all the rest of us together.
On several occasions we chanced to meet Louis Philippe dashing by in an open barouche. We felt great satisfaction in remembering that at one time he was an exile in our country， where he earned his living by teaching school. What an honor for Yankee children to have been taught， by a French king， the rudiments of his language.
Having been accustomed to the Puritan Sunday of restraint and solemnity， I found that day in Paris gay and charming. The first time I entered into some of the festivities， I really expected to be struck by lightning. The libraries， art galleries， concert halls， and theaters were all open to the people. Bands of music were playing in the parks， where whole families， with their luncheons， spent the day杊usbands， wives， and children， on an excursion together. The boats on the Seine and all public conveyances were crowded. Those who had but this one day for pleasure seemed determined to make the most of it. A wonderful contrast with that gloomy day in London， where all places of amusement were closed and nothing open to the people but the churches and drinking saloons. The streets and houses in which Voltaire， LaFayette， Mme. de Staë；l， Mme. Roland， Charlotte Corday， and other famous men and women lived and died， were pointed out to us.
We little thought， then， of all the terrible scenes to be enacted in Paris， nor that France would emerge from the dangers that beset her on every side into a sister republic. It has been a wonderful achievement， with kings and Popes all plotting against her experiment， that she has succeeded in putting kingcraft under her feet and proclaimed liberty， equality， fraternity for her people.
