PEEPS OF FRANCE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3899, 4 December 1928, Page 77

PEEPS OF FRANCE.

(Special for the Otago Witness.) These articles, from the pen of a New Zealand girl who has gone to France to continue her education, have been specially written for my Little Folk. We hope that after reading them you will have a new idea of a country which, to many of you, is known only as another place to be learned about in a geography lesson. —DOT. XLIV. PARIS. Mes Petites. —There is no need for me to tell you that the River Seine is the great natural waterway of Paris you know it already. Along its banks are situated some of the most up-to-date monuments of the capital, and its lovely, clear waters are crossed and re-crossed by. no less than 32 bridges, many of which are very old indeed. During the hot weather all those who can do so go to the river at nights, in tubes and buses. It is the one place in which a breath of real fresh air can be found, for Paris is stiflingly hot. There are many bathers to be seen along the banks, and, of course, boating parties are always, much in vogue during the warm evenings, and one may have a glorious two-hours’ run on the water by steamboat for the sum of six francs, which in English money amounts to about one shilling. There is nearly always an orchestra playing on board these little boats, and it is a very pleasant way of spending a few hours by night or by day. During the month of July there were the most wonderful illuminations and coloured lights to be seen along the river banks, and there were times when the whole place looked like an enchanted city, so magical was the effect of the twinkling lights by the waters, with music in the distance, and the sound of gaiety and revels ,everywhere. You will remember my telling you how Paris was first founded on an island in the Seine, and later was divided into three large parts —the city proper, the University, and the town or “ ville,” as, of course, it was called—occupying the island, or ile, in the middle of the Seine, where the city first began to grow up, and the right and left banks respectively. All Paris, of course, is rich in memories of far-off days, and it is this old-world atmosphere which gives it its inimitable charm.

Of all the city’s lovely monuments there is none, as I think I have told you before, to surpass Notre Dame. The old cathedral seems to express in its architectural design all the vigour of the fast-growing community of the be-

ginning of the thirteenth century, and occupies the foremost place among all Paris’s grand churches at the present time. There is an air of great solemnity about Notre Dame, for its old stones have been the witnesses of some of the most stirring scenes of our history. The ceremonies held in this beautiful church have in them a magnificent gravity entirely in keeping with the grandeur of the surroundings, and with the rich, warm colouring of the exquisitely stained glass windows for which most churches and chapels in France are famous. As for the sculptures of Notre Dame, they seem to speak to us in plain language, and show a great beauty in their pure, simple lines. One of the loveliest of all these creations in carving is a representation of the death and resurrection of the Virgin carried out by some artistic genius on the north door of the church. From the outside view, Notre Dame gives the impression of having a long, arched recess at one end supported by what are known as flying buttresses, that is to say, arched supports rooted in the ground and pressed against the outer walls of the cathedral, which is dominated by two imposing towers. Here the Seine is divided, as it were, to enclose the city island, and its left arm, which is very narrow, extends along the southern side of the cathedral, the new buildings of the Palace of Justice-— or Palais de Justice, as one sometimes hears it called—ending at the barrier in front of the palace of the Exchange and of the Institute at the extreme end of the island.

The other arm, which is larger, reflects in its waters the pinkish colourings of the roof of another of the great monumental buildings of Paris —L’Hotel de Ville—and soon after that me reaches the centre of the most beautiful part of the city—a masterpiece of history. *

Further down the river, on the left bank, are old houses, hotels, palaces, the fine building of the Gare d’Orsay, the only one of all the huge railway stations which occupies a position actually in the heart of the city. » I This station, noted for the dignity of its architectural plan, was built by an architect—Lalaux—during the year 1871, and a line from Orleans, one of the great silk weaving towns of France, ends at the Gare d’Orsay, and follows the quays along the waterfront. Of the other famous buildings of Paris some of the finest are, of course, the beautiful Louvre, the Hotel des Invalides, which is the nation’s treasure house of army treasures and military remains, and near which is an old church built during the reign of Louis XIV, and containing the ashes of Napoleon brought from St. Helena. n--’ l-'r in a tomb hollowed out in the centre of the church under the uomi.., ...... Another place of great interest to most people is the Bourse, or Moncv Exchange, which was begun in the early nineteenth century during Napoleon’s reign, and was not completed until many years later. On a hot day, I believe, the atmosphere in the Bourse is too terribly thick and stuffy for words—and the crowds of people surging and thronging in all quarters are immense. The same thing applies to many French offices and places of business. They are not the ideal places to which to go in the heat—in fact, quite the reverse. The air at times is really enough to make one faint. Well, cheerio, and “an revoir ” till next week. —Love. JEANNE.

(Special for the Otago Witness.) V. Since the new dog Toby settled down with us, we have had a period of peace, principally, I think, because Billy and Fluffy have been so fond of playing with him and trying to teach him tricks. I cannot say they have been particularly successful, because, in spite of all the pieces of meat and biscuits we have all been compelled to give Billy in order that he might reward Toby for performing certain tricks, Toby still only begs in a very half-hearted manner like an ordinary animal, and Rosemary says she doesn’t think he ever got much to eat, and that is why he won’t perforin. But still, as I said, however the pieces of meat and biscuits were divided amongst the bears and the dog, we certainly have been allowed to go on without any dreadful excitement. Until yesterday, that is! Yesterday Billy came dashing up the garden waving his paws in a frantic fashion, and. crying all over the place. Great big sobs were shaking him so that he seemed to jump up in the air, and altogether he was a most pitiful object. Rosemary gathered before any of us that his tale was something about his little brother, Fluffy, and she said to him: “Oh, Billy, don’t

cry in jerks, and then we can do something to help Fluffy, if you’ll tell us what it is! ”

Billy swallowed hard, and tried to stop “crying in jerks”; and at last he managed to tell us that poor little Fluffy had got himself caught in the top of a coal chute —you know the kind of things with lids,on, which pop up in the pavements—and they couldn’t get him out, because he was so fat. (Toby’s biscuits!) So we all rushed along the road together—even Cook was softhearted enough to be worried about poor little Fluffy, who, after all, is not so much trouble as his big brother. When we got to the scene of the tragedy, of course we found the usual crowd. And I’ll tell you the rest of the story next week. (But don’t worry. We got him out. It’s wrong to tell the end first, I know, but the suspense would be awful otherwise!)

OLD WRITERS’ WEEK, 1928, Old Writers’ Week will commence this year on December 18, so that letters must reach the Otago Witness Office not later than December 10. They should be addressed, “ Dot, care of the Editor, Otago Witness, Dunedin.” * * * Dear Old Writers, —Have my big children any news this year? I shall welcome their long letters just as soon as they wish to write, and the Little Folk will welcome them, too. The Maoris have predicted a long, warm summer. Do you think they are correct? How are the babies progressing, and the school children with their noisy chatter? I never pass a school without wondering how many of the pupils are Little Folk, and how many of the teachers are Old Writers. Which of you have left home or travelled? Letters of travel are always interesting, and if the writer has the knack of description, we feel as though we are all accompanying him. I wish you all success in the reunion.—Your sincere friend, DOT. * * * Dear Old Writers, —Time is passing swiftly, and shortly we shall have Christmas with us again. That reminds one of Old Writers’ Week. With Dot’s kind permission I am appealing to you (especially the very old writers) to see to it that there is a bumper record muster this year. It is to be hoped, therefore, that those who, by reason of the many calls in life reside in distant places, will notice this timely reminder and write Dot a fitting epistle, or, failing that, a night-letter telegram conveying a simple yet fitting greeting. You will, won’t you? Thank you.—Yours truly, CAVERSHAM LAD (Wellington). Dear Little Folk, —During Old Writers' Week your letters will not be printed, so you do not need to write during that time. I shall save any letters that arrive. and put them in after the Old Writers’ letters have been printed. You have only a little while to write now before the new year, so try to make these last letters models of grammar and interest. —Your friend, DOT.