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homes that, though rude and rough, were at least the homes of men and not the dens and styes of beasts. Never, since then, has the fatal experiment of trying to create a visible and material severance between the two worlds of divine and human life been tried on so large a scale nor with such terrible results. But never since then has it been tried, upon any scale, in any measure, without producing, in sure and certain proportion to the extent to which it has been tried, the like result: religion enfeebled, morality depraved, society degraded and debased.

If the Church of Christ is to keep a pure and undefiled religion, to maintain a true and high morality, to save human society from perishing of corruption, it must live the life of Christ in this present evil world; it must go about, as He went, amongst men, amongst all sorts and conditions of men, doing good, healing with a touch at once human and divine-human in its sympathy, divine in its power and purity-all manner of diseases; ever in the world and yet never of the world, never conformed to it, ever striving to transform it to the image of Her Lord.

of a nobler life! We sacrifice our goods, our wealth, our ambition, to God; we get back a contented and peaceful spirit which can dispense with wealth and success, and without which wealth and success are no blessings! We discharge the duties of our life for God, and there comes into these, even the smallest and the lowliest of them, an interest, a dignity, a beauty, unknown before, as we think of each one of these, this is the work my Father has given me to do. We give those we love to Him, dedicating and training them for Him; are they lost to us even when He takes them from us? Are they not in the very act of that taking given us back in the assurance of their eternal peace, joy, and safety in His presence? Are they not for us from that hour treasures laid up for ever in heaven, where the rust and moth of fretting care and change come never, and death may not break through to steal them away.

Nay, the material world itself, this beautiful earth on which we live, is it made for us less or more beautiful when we have learned to look on it as God's handiwork and God's gift to man? Surely as we do so it becomes for us glorified and beautified with that "light that never shone on sea or shore." Surely as we look on the starry heavens, as we walk by strath, or stream, or sea, the heavens above shine with a new glory as they sing,

But, if we do this, if we follow this rule honestly, what shall we lose, what shall we gain? What we shall lose we cannot tell; possibly much in this life-pleasures," the hand that made us is divine;" the gains, success, friendship, honours-we may earth grows lovelier as it testifies that it lose or we may not, as the case may be. and the fulness of it are the Lord's. The What we shall gain, however, is certain sea has in its ever-moaning waters an underwe gain our very selves, our true, our eternal song of joy and hope as it tells of Him who life. Our Lord has summed up this ques- has set the sands for its perpetual boundary, tion of profit and loss for us long ago. We and who holdeth its wild winds and waves may lose, He tells us, the whole world, but in the hollow of His hand. we must gain our own souls. What shall it profit us to lose our souls and gain the whole world?

And yet, after all, do we lose so much by the choice? Is it true that he who gives up in heart and purpose the world for God does always lose it even in this life? Surely not so. For when did man ever give up anything to God his Father that he did not receive back his own gift a thousand times enriched with blessings? We give ourselves to God; what do we receive back? A nobler, purer, better self, enriched with all the powers and graces

Yes, if there is a sense in which we may not "love the world nor the things of the world," there is another, a truer, a deeper sense in which we may love them all. The same book which says to us so sternly, "Love not the world," says to us also, "God so loved the world" that He sent His Son to die for it. That world, His, our Father's, created by His power, redeemed by His love, that world-in Him for Him, with Him-we may love; and that world, if we so love it, we shall one day enjoy and rule over with Him for ever and for ever!

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• An edition of this hymn, with music by C. W. Larrington, will be published immediately by Messrs. Novello, Ewer & Co., Berners Street, W.

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WALKS IN OLD PARIS.

BY AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE.

FIRST PAPER.

NGLISHMEN are often especially impressed with Paris as a city of contrasts, because one side of the principal line

Fontaine des Innocents.

of hotels frequented by our countrymen looks down upon the broad, luxurious Rue de Rivoli, all modern gaiety and radiance, whilst the other side of their courtyards opens upon the busy working Rue St. Honoré, lined by the tall, many-windowed houses which have witnessed so many Revolutions. They have all the picturesqueness of innumerable balconies, high slated roofs with dormer windows, window-boxes full of carnations and bright with crimson flowers through the summer, and they overlook an ever-changing crowd, in great part composed of men in blouses and women in white aprons and caps. Ever since the fourteenth century the Rue St. Honoré has been one of the busiest streets in Paris. It was the gate leading into this street which was attacked by Jeanne Darc in 1429. Here, in 1648, the barricade was raised which gave

the signal for all the troubles of the Fronde. It was at No. 3-then called L'auberge des Trois Pigeons-that Ravaillac was lodging

when he was waiting to murder Henri IV.; here the first gun was fired in the Revolution of July, 1830, which overturned Charles X.; and here, in the Revolution of 1848, a bloody combat took place between the insurgents and the military. Throughout this street, as Marie Antoinette was first entering Paris, the poissardes brought her bouquets, singing

"La rose est la reine des fleurs,

Antoinette est la reine des cours;"

and here, as she was being taken to the scaffold, they crowded round her execution-cart and shouted

"Madam Veto avait promis

De faire égorger tout Paris,
Mais son coup a manqué
Grace à nos canoniers;
Dansons la carmagnole
Au bruit du son

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Du canon!"

Who can pass for the first time along the street without a reminiscence of the last journey of the pale queen; of the little child, in front of the Oratoire, who sent her a kiss with its hand, the only moment when she seemed likely to give way

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Church of St. Eustache.

to tears; of the horrible crowd on the steps of St. Roch, whose curses rose like one voice, whilst their victim, calm and majestic, for

gave the insults of which she seemed unconscious?

St. Roch contains the tombs of Mignard and Le Notre, and that of the infamous Cardinal Dubois, minister under the Regent Orleans, whose death, says St. Simon, was "a consolation to great and small, indeed to all Europe." Hence, passing the Oratory, famous for the preaching of Gretry, Coquerel, and Adolphe Monod, we must turn eastward to keep within old Paris. Down a street on the left (Rue Sauval) we soon see the oddlooking circular Halle au Blé, only interest ing as marking the site of the old palace called Hôtel de Nesle, built by Queen Blanche of Castille, who received there the homage of Thibault, the poet-king of Navarre, when

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remains to this day except a fluted column, resting on a fountain, and attached to the exterior of the Halle. This is said to have been used for the observations of Catherine's astrologer. Such was the fame, however, of the Hôtel de Soissons that Piganiol de la Force declares that, except the Louvre, no dwelling-house was more noble and illustrious, while to give its history, or rather that of the Hôtels de Nesle, de Bahaigue, d'Orleans, de la ReineMère, and des Princes, as it was successively called, it would be necessary to touch on the great events of every reign during its long existence.

Houses now cover the gardens of the Hôtel de Soissons, which, under the Regency, were covered by the wooden booths used in the stock - jobbing of Law and his Mississippi scheme.

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Hôtel de St. Aignan.

quer the affections of the queen by his deeds of valour. Here the beautiful queen died (1253) on a bed of straw, from necessity's sake, and the hotel, after passing through a number of royal hands, was given by Charles VI. to his brother, the Duke of Orleans "afin de le loger commodément près du Louvre, et dans un lieu qui répondit à sa qualité." Hence, as the guilty paramour of his sister-in-law, Isabeau de Bavière, the Duke went to his murder in the Rue des Francs Bourgeois.

It was Catherine de Medicis who pulled down the Hôtel de Nesle, and she built another more splendid palace in its stead, called from its later proprietors, Hôtel de Soissons. The cruel queen had her observatory here, and when a light was seen passing there at night, the passers-by used to say, "The queenmother is consulting the stars; it is an evil omen!" Even of the second palace, nothing

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We are close to the Halles Centrales, occupying the district formerly called Champeaux, which, from time immemorial, was at once a centre

for provisions and a place of sepulture. The great

roads leading to Roman towns were always bordered by tombs, and the highways leading to the Roman Lutece, on the island in the Seine, were no exception to the rule. Especially popular as a place of sepulture was the road across the marshes, afterwards known as "grant chaussée Monsieur Saint Denys." A chapel dedicated here to St. Michael at a very early date was the precursor of a church dedicated to the Holy Innocents, built under Louis le Gros, whose favourite oath was "par les saints de Bethléem." The whole surrounding district had by this time become a cemetery, and the ancient oratory was exclusively used for prayers for the dead. Philip Augustus surrounded the cemetery with walls, and it became the favourite burial-place of the middle classes. Of great extent, it was surrounded by cloisters, decorated with frescoes of the Dance of Death, and contained several

hermitages, some of which were inhabited from motives of devotion, but one at least as an enforced penance, by Renée de Vendôme "la recluse de St. Innocent,"-shut up here for life as a punishment for adultery. The church, and the cemetery with its cloisters, were closed in 1786. Their site is now covered by the vast buildings of the modern Halles, and nothing remains of the past except the Fontaine des Innocents, dating from 1550, which formerly stood against the church wall, and which, much changed as to arrangement, and lifted upon a disproportionate base, still stands in a garden-enclosure at the south-west of the market. Though alterations have stripped it of its original interest, the fountain is still a chef d'oeuvre of the French Renaissance of the sixteenth century, and its earlier and still existing decorations, by Jean Goujon, are of the greatest beauty.

Behind the Halles, which are ever filled with a roar of voices like a storm at sea, rises the huge mass of the great church of St. Eustache, the most complete specimen of Renaissance architecture in Paris, a Gothic five-sided church in essentials, but classical in all its details, and possessing a certain quaint, surprising, and imposing grandeur of its own, though brimming with faults from an architectural point of view. Henri Martin, who calls it "the poetical church of St. Eustache," considers it the last breath of the religious architecture of the Middle Ages. Chapels surround the interior, and in one of them kneels the effigy of the minister Colbert, attired in that mantle and collar of the Saint-Esprit which so offended the exclusive spirit of the aristocratic St. Simon. St. Eustache was amongst the churches in which the most tumultuous carnival orgies were held during the Fêtes de la Raison.

Hitherto we have seen little more than sites where old Paris once stood, but a little behind St. Eustache, in the street called Rue Tiquetonne, is a real relic of the past, in a massive quadrangular tower, belonging to the ancient Hôtel de Bourgogne, sometimes called Hôtel d'Artois, having been built in the thirteenth century by Robert, Comte d'Artois, brother of St. Louis. In 1548 the hotel was sold to the Compagnie de la Passion, who bought it that they might represent their mysteries there. Thence it passed to more mundane actors, and eventually to the Opéra Comique. The old tower, which still remains, had been added to the original hotel by Jean sans Peur, Duke of Burgundy, when he belied his name by his terror after having murdered the Duke of Orleans, and erected this residence,

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"toute de pierre de taille, pour sa sûreté, le plus fort qu'il put, et terminée de machicoulis, où toutes les nuits il couchoit." The staircase is very curious, winding round a column, from which branches of an oak spring at the top, and cover the vault with their stone foliage.

All the streets eastward from St. Eustache are more or less picturesque, and all have some story of the past. In the Rue St. Honoré, beyond the entrance of the Rue de la Tonnellerie, being then very narrow at this point, and known as the Rue de la Ferronerie, the visionary Ravaillac assassinated Henri IV. He had come at first from his native Angoulême to try to persuade the king to revoke the Edict of Nantes, and with an imaginary revelation from Heaven to confide to him. But failing to obtain an audience, he returned four months later as a murderer. In the narrow street, where the royal carriage was stopped by two carts in the way, he came upon his victim, and mounting upon one of the wheels, plunged a knife into the king's side. Henri threw up his arms, saying, "I am wounded;" then a second blow pierced his heart, and he never spoke again. Meantime Ravaillac, immov able, waited his arrest.

The next opening on our left is the Rue St. Denis, which is said to have been marked out by the blood of the sainted bishop, when he walked this way, after his martyrdom, with his head under his arm. This street, which was hung throughout with silk and trappings, "à ciel couvert," for the extravagant coronation of Isabeau de Bavière, contains the picturesque Gothic church of SS. Leu et Giller, a dependency of the abbey of St. Magloire.

The Rue de Rambuteau now leads us into the Rue St. Martin, containing the church of St. Mery, with the tower which has given the war note of many revolutions, when its tocsin, sounding day and night, has sent a thrill through thousands. The most interesting feature of the building is a small subterranean chapel of St. Pierre, rebuilt on the site and plan of that which contained the tomb of St. Mery, Abbot of St. Martin at Autun, who coming hither in the seventh century to venerate the tombs of St. Denis and St. Germain, remained three years as a hermit in a little cell attached to this church.

High up the street are the old buildings of the Priory of St. Martin des Champs, founded by Henri I. in 1060. It was only enclosed within the limits of the town on the con

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