The afternoon and evening spent at home, reading. H. went in the
morning with Madame de T. to the Catholic service, at the church St.
Germaine l'Auxerrois, and her companion pointed out the different
parts of the service.
H. said she was moved with compassion towards these multitudes, who
seem so very earnest and solemn. Their prayer books contain much that
is excellent, if it was not mixed with so much that is idolatrous.
Monday, June 20. Went to have our passport _vised_. The sky was
black, and the rain pouring in torrents. As I reached the quay the
Seine was rushing dark, and turbidly foaming. I crept into a fiacre,
and was amused, as we rattled on, to see the plight of gay and
glittering Paris. One poor organ grinder, on the Pont National, sat
with his umbrella over his head, and his body behind the parapet,
grinding away, in the howling storm. It was the best use for a hand
organ I ever saw. The gardens of the Tuileries presented a sorry
sight. The sentries slunk within their boxes. The chairs were stacked
and laid on their sides. The paths were flooded; and the classic
statues looked as though they had a dismal time of it, in the general
shower bath.
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