"So, then, that is Paris!" exclaimed Seppi, in astonishment. "Yes, that must be indeed Paris," said his companion Marie, "it looks so very large. 'Would we were but once there, Seppi, for I am so very hungry, and we have not a morsel more bread left in the wallet."

"Why yes, Marie, our bread is indeed all gone; but only think of the pretty marmot and the hurdy-gurdy, by which God will help us on still further. Come, come; let us be merry and cheerful. Kind-hearted people will surely not deny us a bit of bread, and a little nook where we may sleep. And you, Marie, can dance so prettily the Savoyarde, and I will sing our song to it; and-hurrah! hurrah!-how my little animal here will spring about when it hears the hurdygurdy! And besides, you know, I can sweep chimneys too, and earn plenty of money that way."

"Ah, Seppi, you are always so light-hearted and merry; whilst poor I-I feel as if I could rather grieve my heart out, and cry most bitterly!"

"Well, now, that would be foolish!

Would that bring

us a step further! And yonder lies Paris. Don't you know that one may make one's fortune in such a place as that? Our old Thomas, at home, has often enough told us that; and he knows it, for he has been in Paris himself."

Marie, who had sat down to rest herself a little, now summoned together all her strength, and arose, sighing beneath the weight of the hurdy-gurdy, and, with a dejected look, walked on by the side of her more sanguine brother. When they had gone on thus for a little while, Marie stopped again, and said, mournfully, and almost in tears: "Alas, Seppi, what will our dear mother do now, so all alone at home! This is just about the time when the bells must be chiming there for evening service. Ah, how very sad it is not to be able to hear the sounds of those pretty bells here."

Why, Marie, it is true," rejoined the consoling Seppi, "we do not hear them ourselves, but our dear mother does; and when she thinks of us, and the bells chime for prayer, she knows that we are in God's hands, and that He will not forsake a couple of poor children."

Just at that moment they were interrupted by the sudden tones, echoed forth through the evening air, from a loud peal of bells. The children simultaneously gave a loud scream of lively joy at these unexpected sounds; and Seppi exclaimed, exultingly: "There now, Marie, you see there are bells in Paris too, and they sound quite differently from those in our own village. Come, come; we shall not fail to thrive there."

And now even Marie herself had gained courage, and so, forgetting hunger and weariness, they pushed on again stoutly together.

The elated Seppi, as they stepped forward, continued exclaiming, in a joyful tone, "Yes, yes, we will dance the Savoyarde, and marmot shall perform his tricks, and we will play the hurdy-gurdy and sing, and I will sweep chimneys— ay, ay; and if we can but once send our dear good mother some money-perhaps actually a gold piece, Marie - eh! only think of that!"

When our little travellers entered Paris, it had already grown quite dark. But what an ocean of houses what crowds of people and equipages-and what astonishing quantities of lights were everywhere scattered around! The Savoyards strayed about for an hour or so, and during that time they were completely bewildered by the sight and bustle. But after the first charm of novelty was satisfied, hunger and weariness returned only the stronger. “But who then will give us something to eat, Seppi," asked Marie; "and where shall we sleep this night?"

"Why, there are so many, many houses," returned her brother, in a rather dejected tone; "surely there will at least be a corner for us in one of them! Look Marie, yonder is a fine large mansion, where there will be no lack of room: come, let us go and beg for shelter. Kind gentleman," said he, to a man who was standing at the gate with a long cane in his hand, "we are in sad distress for a night's lodging and a crust of bread; pray bestow your charity upon us, and we will dance the Savoyarde, and, if you like, our pretty marmot shall perform his leaps before you."

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Why, you couple of detestable beggars," exclaimed the porter, "do you think the palace of his Excellency is to be converted into a hovel to receive such trash as you! No,

no, be off; we want none of your monkies nor Savoyard dances."

Seppi waited not a moment, but seized Marie's hand, and led her hastily away; whilst the poor girl burst into tears and sobbed aloud. "Come, dear Marie, cheer up," said her brother, when they had gone on a little way again; "you take and play now the hurdy-gurdy, and marmot shall dance to it.” Marie wiped away her tears, and they now halted and commenced their performance; but the people passed by without, as Seppi had expected, handing them a present, or offering them a night's lodging. It got later and later, and the little girl shivered with cold and grief, whilst Seppi, almost losing courage, uttered not a word.

They had now reached a small square, crossed by several streets. Marie sunk down on a stone, and held her hands before her eyes in bitter lamentation. At this moment an elegantly-dressed person seemed to observe the children, and, stepping up to Seppi, said: "My little Savoyard, you could do me a favour."

Very willingly, sir; what are your commands?" replied Seppi, delighted.

"Do you see that large shop yonder, which is lighted up so brilliantly?"

"What, opposite? O yes, I see it."

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'Well, here you have a gold coin, go in there and get it changed. In case you are questioned about it, say boldly, you have found it. When you come back I will make you a present."

Seppi gladly handed his monkey to his sister, took the twenty-franc piece, and ran across with it to the shop as hard