Then the wonders of the capital, the crowds in the streets, the soldiers, the palaces, the statues and columns, the Tuileries where the Emperor had lived.
"I pass, and repass, not a soul I know, Not one Agenais in this hurrying crowd; No one salutes or shakes me by the hand." And yet, he says, what a grand world it is! how tasteful! how fashionable! There seem to be no poor.

They are all ladies and gentlemen.

Each day is a Sabbath; and under the trees the children play about the fountains.

So different from Agen! He then speaks of his interview with Louis Philippe and the royal family, his recital of L'Abuglo before "great ladies, great writers, lords, ministers, and great savants;" and he concludes his poem with the words: "Paris makes me proud, but Agen makes me happy." The poem is full of the impressions of his mind at the time--simple, clear, naive.

It is not a connected narrative, nor a description of what he saw, but it was full of admiration of Paris, the centre of France, and, as Frenchmen think, of civilisation.