and amiability, shifted her small burden tenderly, 
while she laid some large fingers ou the crisp 
border of her cap. The two gentlemen were still 
staving across the street when a tiny brougham 
drove quickly Up to t he veiled window. 
“ Who Is shet Who can she be?" cried Mr. 
Alley, and addud In a breath: “Upon my word, 
remarkably pretty, one can see In a moment the 
French woman of the world—grace, elegance, 
wit.” 
•* It is my wife," said Mr. Armstead, dryly. The 
Englishman was overwhelmed with eonruslon. 
“ i beg your pardon—I beg your pardon—I had no 
Idea—!-" 
“ Won t you allow me the pleasure of present¬ 
ing you to Mrs. Armstead? " 
" Thanks, thanks; delighted, 1 am sure. Hut 
do you think we may go In—two men, you know ?” 
“ l m not afraid for myself,” said the Bostonian. 
The front room ot Madame Lalouette was ten¬ 
anted only by gowns, erect upon wire frames. 
11 Dress-extenders, eh? ”said Alrey. 
“Average women!” observed Mr. Armstead; 
but there was a twinkle In his eye which softened 
the severity ot Ids remark. 
From an Inner apartment, which was seen 
through open folding-doors, catnn the rattle of 
two shrill French voices, one voluble In the lan¬ 
guage ot the country, the other almost equally 
effective In a mixture ct French and fan Visile 
English. They were, .the voices or Madame La- 
louette and of “ Mees,” so-called in the establish¬ 
ment, in recognition of her almost miraculous 
knowledge Of our barbarous language. The 
double stream of persuasion, declamation, and 
exclamation was occasionally Interrupted by a 
third voice, high, but not loud, find with a very 
pleasant pronunciation of French. Evidently the 
lady was not. yut satisfied, ror her tone was a litt le 
pathetic. Mr. Alrey nung buck In alarm; but Mr. 
Armstead courteously waved him forward, stalked 
through the open doors with the unruffled calm 
ot a red Indian. 
“ Prudence,” he said, “ will you permit me to 
present to you my friend, Mr. Alrey? ” 
“ i am afraid, t really am awfully afraid that I 
am intruding here," said the polite Englishman. 
“ Why, no," said the lady, with a slight delay 
on each word, to emphasize her negative; and 
she added, “ You can help toe to choose a winter 
jacket. Do you like that?" and she pointed to a 
garment which was (loatlng up and down the 
room on a most elegant young person, who had 
risen In life, hy the remarkable Tall In her buck. 
•'Charming! Charming! Upon my word, ex¬ 
ceedingly pretty!” 
“Which do you mean?" asked the lady, de¬ 
murely. Mr. Alrey was delighted. These little 
American women have so much self-possession 
..nil so much spirit. They ire 80 friendly, wlth- 
ouv, being fast, ills heart warms to her, as It 
I does to all pro'ty women. Ho enjoys their so- 
“ And a capital good thing, too,” observed the 
other, encouragingly. 
“ The Pilgrim Fathers would not have appeared 
to an advantage on the Boulevards.” 
“ Certainly not. And yet your countrymen arc, 
as a rule—are they not? -devoted to Paris. You 
know, of course, the saying. 1 Good Americans, 
when they die, go to Parts,’ eh7” 
The Bostonian bowed gravely at the quotation. 
“Some like it," he said, and added profoundly, 
after a pause, *• the American tn Paris is too often 
a Parisian hampered by morality.” 
The Englishman would doubtless have com¬ 
mented at some length on this remark, but his 
eye was at, the moment caught by something that 
would serve him lor a text. Above a largo wtn- 
dow. which was mostly covered by muslin cur¬ 
tains, appeared the name of Madiinm Lalouette 
Exelere de M 
HE NEVER TOLD A LIE 
I saw him standing in the crowd— 
A comely youth and fair! 
There was a brightness in hi* eye, 
A glory in his hair! 
I *aw hie comrades gaze on him — 
His comrades, standing by ; 
I heard them whisper, each to each, 
“ He never told a lie! ” 
I looked in wonder on that boy. 
As he stood there, so young . 
To think that never an untruth 
Was uttered by his tongue ! 
1 thought of all the boys Pd known — 
Myself among the fry — 
And knew of none that one could say : 
" He never told a lie 
I gazed upon that youth with awe 
That did enchain me long ; 
1 had not seen a boy before 
So perfect ami so strong. 
And with a something c.f regret, 
T wished that he was 1, 
So they might look at me and say . 
"He never told alio!" 
I thought of questions very hard' 
For boys to answer right 
” How did you tear those pantaloons ?’ 
** My son 1 what caused the fight ?” 
" Who left the gate ajar last uight?” 
“ Who bit the pumpkin pie ?” 
What boy could answer all of these, 
And never tell a lie ? 
I proudly took him by the hand — 
My words with praise were rife ; 
I blessed that hoy who never told 
A falsehood in hia life! 
I told him I was proud of him. 
A fellow standing hy 
Informed me that that boy was dumb 
Who never told a lie ! 
Over the name of the gentle¬ 
men who hart hart the honor of employing Madame 
Lalouette, a piece of blank paper was carefully 
pasted. “ Look,” said Mr. Alrey, In great excite¬ 
ment, “Just look at the woman’s ingenuity. She 
must have been threatened with legal proceed¬ 
ings, don't you see ? Ho she sticks up that paper, 
which blots out the cause of offence, while It 
catches every eye anti appeals to every imagina¬ 
tion. 'Sophia, my child,’ says one. woman, ‘of 
whom Is this Madame Lalouette the premiere 7' 
‘For me I cannot conceive,’says the other,‘but. 
Madame de Corsayc is sure to know." Ho they 
rush orr to a third lady, and the milliner Is adver¬ 
tised all over Paris by a single square of white 
payer. It Is magnificent!” 
Here Mr, Alrey paused for breath, and was 
straightway thrilled by t he delightful conscious¬ 
ness of having been unusually brilliant. 
“I know It,” exclaimed Mr. Armstead. “M. 
Blank Is an excrutlailng mystery to women, like 
the veiled prophet of KUorassan.” 
“Ha! ha! Capital! capital! And, by Jove, 
she Is a clever woman. Just look at that other 
dodge.” 
“ I have observed it,’’said the American. Tho 
large window ot the lngeulous ani8te was draped 
with muslin, as It the mysteries of La Mode were 
sacred as those of the Bona Dea; but at one side 
of the window was placed a kill sheet Of looking- 
glass, some two feet wide. While tire two friends 
were gazing at the templo of fashion, the one 
bubbled over with remarks on the Ingenuity ot 
French women, the other watched them In silence 
as they passed that look! ng-glass. He remembered 
a method of snaring birds by like means, and 
ctrilled grimly. One lady Just touched her bonnet 
tn trout, dl i I'i'j i - bn:cl:-, behind. One stopped 
and deliberately arranged the lace #' the throat, 
another glanced hurriedly nt the glass and then 
darted across the road a mute defiance of tho ob 
server. Even a boundless work-girl caught a 
look as she slipped back to her work, and a large 
nurse, whose beauty was no more than health 
LITTLE BOBBY, 
“ Wkt.l, sir, I am glad to meet you here,” said 
Sir. Armstead. 
haul ii.i .' - 1 lunik;", very much, 
thank-.,’’ muttered Mr. Alrey,In reply. Mr. Alrey 
had but but lately arrived in Parts from Bond 
swod, Mt. .‘-rmatoud from Beacon street. Tho 
Londoner had run against the Bostonian at the 
corner of the Rue de la Palx. 
“Are you going my way?” asked Mr. Alrey. 
llghtly. 
“ 1 am at your service, sir," said Mr. Armstead, 
with a courteous motion of the hand. As they 
moved along the broad pavement, tue English¬ 
man entertained his triend with.a thousand 
remarks on men and things. Paris always r 
loosed his tongue; for while he tasted with I 
on his hat, and heaved a sigh. “ 1 have forgotten 
little Bobby’s medicine again!” be repeated, as 
ho moved away, “ And they talk or Lhe frivolity 
<>t Fiv net) women, l oor littl* Bobby!" This 
_ moralist has a terder heart, and delights to 
exercise it. Path* tic were thi pictures which 
he conjured up of the utile Innocent. Ho 
though! of Tiny Tfui mill littl" ' :l Dombey. 
lie fancied the sick child lylru ,.xe a > 
llowcr on his small bed, and ileptog blessings 
on bis mot her, whose whole mi ml was concen¬ 
trated on the choice of a wlnl mket. How 
op en hml she forgotten It. I a Haps for 
months that Utile, blighted child had been 
sighing for the lively tonic, cm the dark-brown 
cod-llver oil; but the band which should have 
administered the draught, while Its fellow 
smoothed the pillow of the sUfTerer, was pois¬ 
ing bonnets or fingering fringes. Perhaps at 
that very moment poor little Bobby was look- 
I log Ids Iasi look Into Ills mother's eyes and 
' whispering, " never mind, mother, It's too late. 
. t shan’t want the physic now. You may take 
w it.ail yourself. “Hut 11ds is weakness,” zuid 
ble discourse on the probable haunts and cus¬ 
toms of a passing Petit gras, be found that for 
a moment be was without another subject, on 
which to dilate. So turn I ng t.o his companion, 
like au amiable social Inquisitor, he asked: 
“Now, what do you find to do with yourself 
In Paris?" 
Mr. Armstead, whose share In the conversa¬ 
tion had consisted of occasional solemn bows 
of acknowledgment, now coughed, meditated 
for some moments a ud then answered thought- 
tully, “ Well, 1 come down town and 1 walk 
around.” 
“ But surely,” cried the other, “ for a man of 
your active habits—why, my dear Col. Arm¬ 
stead, I-” 
“ Pardon me for Interrupting you, but drop 
the Colonel, if you please.” 
Mr. Alrey was vastly astonished. “I beg 
your pardon—I beg your pardon,” he said, 
“ but surely why, I always t hought that you 
Americans were particularly fond of military 
titles.” 
“ Well, sir, we have had some pretty serious 
killing lately, and some ot us don’t take quite 
so humorous a view of the profession as we 
did when It was confined to Indians and Mexi¬ 
cans." Z 
“ But still, it Is the custom tn F.ngland and 
everywhere lor a man who has served, to keep 
hls title. And yon, who were distinguished 
you surprise me, you surprise me Very much.” 
Mr. Armstead acknowledged the compliment 
by bending hls head and slightly waving hls 
right hand. After a pause, during which hls 
companion watched him with much curiosity, 
he said, “ It was found that there was a cer¬ 
tain awkwardness In sending out your supe- 
