hard to leave this breezy summit, and the
sunny bench which somebody has been kind
enough to set up for us. The shadowy circles
on Camp Hill look tempting; and, in this
clear light, the summit seems very near. If
we were not so hungry, we could not but go
—almost as straight as the bird flies. We
will be there before the noon haze veils the
prospect—will not we?

"Yes; but if so, we must go down now to
breakfast." "So be it. Will you engage to
be in the house within ten minutes?—Is it
impossible? Let us try."

THIRTY DAYS OF PLEASURE FOR
FIFTEEN FRANCS.

SUCH is the marvellous announcement that—
paragraphed in newspapers, posted upon walls,
and sent forth on the wings of handbills—has
been astonishing Paris for several weeks
past;—a miraculous project to provide pleasure
for thirty consecutive days to some two
hundred thousand persons. But pleasure of
what kind? To many, barricades are pleasures,
and thirty days not too long for their enjoyment.
Could it be the object of the prospectus
to get up a revolution by subscription; to
provide each subscriber with fifteen francs worth
of freedom, according to the particular taste?
As may be supposed, there were not wanting
alarmists, who, taking that view, had settled
the veriest minutiæ of the meditated rising—
down a list of prices to be submitted to the
public, at fixed prices, as—"Enfranchisement
for one, two francs; open and advised
speaking, one franc, fifty centimes; ditto,
with sarcasms, or sauce piquante, two francs;
ditto, with libels, two francs, fifty centimes.
General violence à discrétion. Bloodshed and
infamous excesses to be charged as supplements."

A short time elapsed, however, and the
united sagacity of at least six journals, about
six hundred café politicians, and no end of
the mob, was found to be miserably at fault,
and the credulous and superficial were in a
"blaze of triumph." The design was
discovered to be a mere harmless attempt to
apply the principles of association and
co-operation in a new manner; to secure to the
people—not their political rights, which they
somehow manage to do without—but their
favourite pleasures; which, to Frenchmen, are
something like a necessity. Benefit societies,
in England of all descriptions, had done
much to teach "the people" to be provident;
the Great Exhibition had done more in
encouraging them to be industrious; but it was
reserved for the French to point what is, to
Frenchmen, an equally useful moral, by showing
them how they may combine to make the
most of the result, both of their providence
and their industry. Accordingly, France has
her "Trente Jours de Plaisir pour quinze
Francs."

The nature of the design being no longer
doubtful, the ways and means had to be
discussed. How was it possible for the
projectors to give two hundred thousand persons,
in the short space of thirty days, free admission
to the opera, the theatres, the public gardens
of Paris; to Mabille; to the Chaumière;
to the Château Rouge; and to the fêtes of the
surrounding country—Asnières, St. Cloud,
Versailles, Meudon? In the first place, the
speculation could never "pay;" ten sous per
head per diem being the only return for an
expenditure involving at least, as was
calculated, ten times that amount. Physical
impossibility was also set up as another slight
objection:—Suppose the two hundred thousand
persons should take it into their heads to visit the
same place on the same identical evening—
How could the requisite amount of
accommodation be provided for them? What would
be the fate of the opera, with two hundred
thousand determined sight-seers besieging its
doors? What could be expected of the most
yielding and expansive of public gardens?

The financial part of the matter was soon
answered. It was not a question between the
projectors and the public, but between the
projectors and themselves. Their great and
undisguised object being the acquisition of
money, they had of course made all due
calculations. If these calculations failed, they were
prepared to take the consequences. With
regard to the second difficulty, the solution was
equally simple. If the two hundred thousand
subscribers desired anything so unnatural as a
simultaneous visit to the same place of amusement,
they could not be gratified. In fact,
according to the arrangements, they could
not select their own particular amusement
for any particular evening, but must submit
to take their turn, as general convenience
might dictate. Thus, the two hundred thousand
would be distributed every evening over
all the places of amusement, every man seeing
everything by degrees in due course.

The projectors calculated that the theatres,
spectacles, balls, concerts, and public gardens
in and around Paris, afforded daily accommodation
for three hundred thousand persons;
and they guaranteed to make arrangements
with the directors of these amusements for
places for their two hundred thousand
subscribers. They further supported their case
by citing the opinions of such men as Victor
Hugo and Alexandre Dumas, who expressed
their warm belief, both in the commercial
practicability and social advantages of the
scheme. The principal theatres, to be sure,
announced, publicly, their refusal to make
any "arrangements" for the reception of this
wholesale visitation on any but the usual
terms; a "reduction on taking a quantity"
was out of the question. This decision would,
of course, involve extra expenditure on the
part of the projectors; but, nevertheless,
could not prove fatal to the project, which
was soon understood to be in a fair way of
realisation.