surprises, de decouvertes, et de revelations sur l'humanité.']

All large cities furnish daily material for tragedy, and life there,
keenly observed and aptly narrated, proves continually how much more
strange is truth than fiction; but the impressive manners and
melo-dramatic taste of the people, as well as their intricate police
system, bring out more vividly these latent points of interest, as a
reference to the _Causes Célébres_ and the Memoirs of Vidocq illustrate.
A friend of mine, returning from a trip to Lyons, became acquainted in
the rail-car with an English gentleman, and when they reached the
station, just before midnight, the two left for their hotels in the same
cab. After a short drive, the vehicle suddenly came to a halt, the
cabman sprang to the ground, and his passengers were left to surmise the
occasion of their abrupt abandonment: presently a crowd collected, a
shout was raised, and they learned that a valise had been stolen from
the top of the carriage, and its owner had set off in pursuit of the
thief. He ran with great swiftness, doubled corners, sprang over
obstacles, and was in a fair way to distance his pursuer, when a
soldier thrust out his foot and tripped up the fugitive, who was taken
to the nearest police station. Confronted with the owner of the valise,
he declared it was his own property, placed by mistake on the wrong cab.
The official authorized to settle the difficulty not being present, my
friend and his companion were informed they must leave the article in
dispute, and the case itself, until the following morning, when a
hearing would be had before one of the courts. On reaching their
destination, the gentlemen parted with the understanding that they would
dine together at a certain restaurant the next day. The appointed hour
came, but not the Englishman; and my friend's appetite and patience were
keen set, when, after an hour's delay, the truant made his appearance,
looking pale, _triste_ and exhausted. He soon explained the cause of his