I touched their dust-covered faces with my finger,
but Dagobert was deader than the sixteen centuries
that have passed over him, Clovis slept well after his
labor for Christ, and old Charlemagne went on
dreaming of his paladins, of bloody Roncesvalles.
and gave no heed to me.

The great names of Père la Chaise impress one,
too, but differently. There the suggestion brought
constantly to his mind is, that this place is sacred
to a nobler royalty--the royalty of heart and brain.
Every faculty of mind, every noble trait of human
nature, every high occupation which men engage in,
seems represented by a famous name. The effect is
a curious medley. Davoust and Massena, who
wrought in many a battle-tragedy, are here, and so
also is Rachel, of equal renown in mimic tragedy on
the stage. The Abbé Sicard sleeps here--the first
great teacher of the deaf and dumb--a man whose
heart went out to every unfortunate, and whose life
was given to kindly offices in their service; and not
far off, in repose and peace at last, lies Marshal
Ney, whose stormy spirit knew no music like the
bugle-call to arms. The man who originated public
gas-lighting, and that other benefactor who intro-
duced the cultivation of the potato and thus blessed
millions of his starving countrymen, lie with the
Prince of Masserano, and with exiled queens and
princes of Further India. Gay-Lussac, the chemist;
Laplace, the astronomer; Larrey, the surgeon; de
èze, the advocate, are here, and with them are
Talma, Bellini, Rubini; de Balzac, Beaumarchais,
Béranger; Molière and Lafontaine, and scores of

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