

INTRODUCTION. 



One summer day while loitering under the trees by the river Seine, 

 where it flows through the Champs Elysees in Paris, watching the 

 idle crowd, and speculating on its manners and meanings, some fancy 

 led me to the shooting gallery of Monsieur Devisme. 



The usual number of habitues and loungers were sitting within, 

 talking and laughing together, and a man was standing opposite the 

 target, with rifle in hand ready to take his shot. As I joined the 

 group standing near him, he brought his rifle to his shoulder, and 

 hardly had the barrel attained its level, before the piece was dis- 

 charged, and the marker down at the other end of the gallery, called 

 out " mouche " (the centre), at the same time marking the bullet hole 

 with a white wand. 



There was something so quick and decided in the motions of the 

 man, and as I fancied something of the air of the Mississippi scout in 

 his posture, that I crossed over to the other side of the gallery to see 

 his countenance. A heavy black beard and moustache trimmed to a 

 point, concealed the lower part of a bronzed visage. The turban of 

 the Spahi uniform shaded his forehead, his face was thin, and almost 

 the only uncovered feature of his countenance by which the spec- 

 tator might judge the character of the man was the eye. This was 

 dark and remarkably piercing, seeming to concentrate heat and light 

 like a lens, and yet was not quick withal, but on the contrary, calm 



and slow in its movements. 



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