I have a long picture-gallery to retire into when I want to think of something fair, in recalling the moon as it silvered the Rhine at the foot of Drachenfels, or the soft, mist-veiled island where dwelt the lady who is consecrated for ever by Roland's love.
A couple of months later we rejoined Miss Marryat in Paris, where we spent seven happy, workful months.

On Wednesdays and Saturdays we were free from lessons, and many a long afternoon was passed in the galleries of the Louvre, till we became familiar with the masterpieces of art gathered there from all lands.

I doubt if there was a beautiful church in Paris that we did not visit during those weekly wanderings; that of St.Germain de l'Auxerrois was my favourite--the church whose bell gave the signal for the massacre of St.Bartholomew--for it contained such marvellous stained glass, deepest, purest glory of colour that I had ever seen.

The solemn beauty of Notre Dame, the somewhat gaudy magnificence of La Sainte Chapelle, the stateliness of La Madeleine, the impressive gloom of St.Roch, were all familiar to us.

Other delights were found in mingling with the bright crowds which passed along the Champs Elysees and sauntered in the Bois de Boulogne, in strolling in the garden of the Tuileries, in climbing to the top of every monument whence view of Paris could be gained.