steady on their feet, we meet them already doing the family errands,
trudging along, hugging a loaf of bread taller than themselves. But the
rosy plumpness of the fields is wanting; for children are like
chameleons, and partake of the color of the locality they inhabit, so
these poor little ones are toned down by the smoke and dust of the
workshops. Their play-ground is under the dusty, dingy trees of the
wide avenues; but they have the same games of romps their peasant
mothers brought from their country homes, and above the noise of the
passing vehicles we often hear their voices as they dance round in a
circle, and sing verses of some old provincial song.

[Illustration: THE VETERAN AND HIS CHARGE.]

The delightful hours spent in boyhood, going to and from school, are
unknown in the gay French capital to children of well-to-do parents.
Instead of starting early and lingering on the way, they watch from the
window until a black one-horse omnibus arrives, when a sub-master takes
charge of the pupil, and the omnibus goes from house to house,
collecting all the scholars, who are brought home in the same manner,
the sub-master sitting next the door, giving no chance to slip out to
ride on top, or to beg the driver to trust a fellow with the reins; and
as it is the custom to obey all in authority, the master is respected.
Girls are either sent to boarding-school or go to a day-school; in the
latter case, always accompanied by one of their parents or a trusty
servant. But the parents, if their means will not permit them to send
their boys to schools that support a one-horse omnibus, or if they have
not a servant to go with them, perform that task themselves. In the
schools for the poorer classes, when teaching is over, the children
file out, two by two, the older children being appointed monitors, and
the little processions disappear in different directions; the teachers