From a balcony overlooking one of the Paris boulevards they witnessed, in a blaze of autumnal sunshine, which glorified much military and civic pomp, the reception of the new Emperor.

Mrs Browning's handkerchief waved frantically while she prayed that God might bless the people in this the chosen representative of a democracy.

What were Browning's thoughts on that memorable Saturday is not recorded, but we may be sure that they were less enthusiastic.

Yet he enjoyed the stir and animation of Paris, and after the palpitating life of the boulevards found Florence dull and dead--no change, no variety.

The journey by the Mont Cenis route had not been without its trying incidents.