The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1843-07-04 00:00:00

AN ADVENTURE IN PARIS.

(From the Loiterings of Arthur O'Leary.)
In my rambles through Paris, visiting strange and out-
of-the-way places, dining here, and supping there, watch-
ing life under every aspect 1 could behold it, I strolled
one evening across the Pont Neuf into the " Isle St.
Louis," that quaint old quarter with its narrow straggling
streets and its tall gloomy houses, barricadoed like for-
tresses. The old porte where studded with nails, and
barred svith•iron, and having each a small window to peer
through at the stranger without, spoke of days when
outrage and attack were rife, and it behoved every man
to fortify his stronghold as best he could. There were
now to be found the most abandoned and desperate of the
whole Parisian world—the assassin, the murderer, the
housebreaker, the coiner, found a refuge in this confused
wilderness of gloomy alleys and dark dismal passages.
When night falls, no lantern throws a friendly gleam
along the streets—all is left in perfect darkness, save
when the red light of some cabaret lamp streams across
the pavement. In one of these dismal streets I found
myself when night set in, and although I walked on and
on, somehow I never could extricate myself, but conti-
nually kept moving in some narrow circle, so I guessed
at least, for I never wandered far from the deep-toned
bell of " Notre Dame," that went on chanting its melan-
choly peal through the stillness of the night air. I often
stopped to listen, now it seemed before, now behind me ;
the rich solemn sound floating through those cavernous
streets, had something awfully impressive. The voice
that called:to prayer, heard in that gloomy haunt of crime,
was indeed a strange and appalling thing. At last it
ceased, and all was still. For some time I was uncertain
how to act, I feared to knock at a door and ask my way,
the very confession of my loneliness would have been an
invitation to outrage, if not to murder. No one passed me ;
the streets seemed actually deserted.
Fatigued with walking I sat down on a door sill and
began to consider what was best to be done, when I heard
the sound of heavy feet moving along towards me, the
clattering of sabots on the rough pavement, and shortly
after a man came up who, I could just distinguish, seemed
to be a labourer. I suffered him to pass me a few paces
and then called out—

" Holloa, friend, can you tell me the shortest way to
the Pont Neuf?"

He replied by some words in a patois so strange I could
make nothing of it. I repeated my question, and en-
deavoured, by signs, to express my wish. By this time
he was standing close beside me, and I could mark, was
evidently paying full attention to all I said. He looked
about him once or twice, as if in search of some one, and
then turning to me said in a thick guttural voice—
" Halte la, I'll come ;" and with that be moved
down in the direction he originally came from, and I
could hear the clatter of his heavy shoes till the sounds
were lost in the winding alleys.
A sudden thought struck me that I had done wrong.
The fellow had evidently some dark intention by his going
back, and I repented bitterly having allowed him to leave
me; but then what were easier for him than to lead me
where he pleased had I retained him ; and so I reflected, when
the noise of many voices speaking in a half-subdued ac-
cent came up the street. I heard the sound, too, of a
great many feet ; my heart sickened as the idea of mur-
der, so associated with the place, flashed across me ; and
I had just time to squeeze myself within the shelter of the
door-way when the party came up.
" Somewhere hereabouts, you said, wasn't it ?" said
one in a good accent, and a deep, clear voice.
" Oui da !" said the man I had spoken to, while he felt
with his hands upon the walls and door-way of the oppo-
site house. " Holloa there," he shouted.
" Be still, you fool : don't you think that he suspects
something by this time ? Did the others go down the Rue
des Lpups ?"

" Yes, yes," said a voice close to where I stood.
"Then all's safe; he can't escape that way. Strike a
light, Pierre."

" A tall figure, wrapped up in a cloak, produced a tin-
der box, and began to clink deliberately with a steel and
flint. Every flash showed me some savage-looking face,
where crime and famine struggled for mastery, while I
could mark that many had large clubs of wood, and one
or two were armed with swords. 1 drew my breath with
short efforts, and was preparing myself for the struggle,
in which, though I saw death before me, I resolved to sell
life dearly, when a hand was passed across the pillar of
the door, and rested on my leg. For a second it never
stirred ; then slowly moved up to my knee, where it
stopped again. My heart seemed to cease its beating ; I
felt like one around whose body some snake is coiling, fold
after fold, his slimy grasp. The hand was gently with-
drawn, and before I could recover from my surprise, I
was seized by the throat and hurled out into the street.
A savage laugh rang through the crowd, and a lantern,
just lighted, was held up to my face, while he who spoke
first called out—

" You didn't dream of escaping us, Me, did you ?" at
the same moment hands were thrust into my various
pockets ; the few silver pieces I possessed were taken ;
my watch torn off; my hat examined, and the lining of
my coat ripped open, and all so speedily that I saw at
once I had fallen into experienced hands.
" Where do you live in Paris ?" said the speaker, still
holding the light to my face, and staring fixedly at me
while 1 answered.

" I am a stranger and alone," said I, for the thought
struck me, that in such a circumstance frankness was as
good policy as any other. I came here to-night to see
the cathedral, and lost my way in returning.'
" But where do you live? in what quarter of Paris ?"
" The Rue d' Alger ; number 12; the second story."
" What effects have you there in money ?"
" One English bank note for five pounds; nothing
more."

" Any jewels, or valuables of any kind ?"
" None ; I am as poor as any man in Paris."
" Does the porter know your name, in the house?"
" No ; I am only known as the Englishman of number
12."
" What are your hours, irregular, are they not ?"
" Yes ; I often come very late."
" That's all right. You speak French well. Can you
write it?"

" Yes ; sufficiently so for any common purpose.'
"Here, then," said he, opening a large pocket-book,
" write an order which I'll tell you to the concierge of
the house. Take this pen."
With a trembling hand I took the pen, and waited for
ite direction.'

" Is it a woman keeps the door of your hotel ?"
" Yes," said I.
" Well, then, begin—Madame La Concierge, let the
bearer of this note have the key of my apartment."
' As I followed with my hand the words, I could mark
that one of the party was whispering in the ear of the
speaker, and then moved slowly round to my back.'
" Hush, what's that ?" cried the chief speaker. Be
still there;' and as we listened, the rich chorus of a num-
ber of voices singing in parts, was heard at some little
distance off.

" That infernal nest of fellows must be rooted out of
this, one day or other,' said the chief ; ' and if I end my
days on the Place de la Greve, I'll try and do it. Bush
there—be still—they're passing on,' true enough, the
sound began to wax fainter, and my heart sank heavily,
as I thought the last hope was leaving me suddenly a
thought dashed through my mind—death in one shape is
as bad as another. I'll do it—l stooped down, as if to
continue my writing, and then collecting my strength for
the effort, and taking a deep breath, I struck the man in
front a blow with all my might, that felled him to the
ground, and clearing him with a spring, bounded down
the street. My old Indian teaching had done me good
service here ; for white men could have caught me in an
open plain, with space and sight to guide me—and I
gained at every stride ; but alas, I dared not stop to listen
whence the sounds proceeded, and could only dash
straight forward, not knowing where it might lead me,
down a steep rugged street, that grew narrower as I went,
I plunged—when, horror of horrors, I heard the Seine
plashing at the en' : the rapid current of the river surged
against the heavy tnri,ers that defended the banks, with
a sound like a death-wail.
A solitary trembling light lay afar off in the river from
some barge that was at anchor there. 1 fixed my eye upon
it, and was preparing for a plunge, when, with a half-
suppressed cry, my pursuers sprung up from a low wharf
I had not seen, below the quay, and stood in front of me ;
in an instant they were upon me, a shower of blows fell
on ;my head and shoulders—and one, armed with a des-
perate resolution, struck me on the forehead, and felled
me on the spot.
" Be quick now, be quick," said a voice I well knew—
" into the river with him—the ' filets de St. Cloud' will
catch him by day-break—into the river with him." They
tore off my coat and shoes, and dragged roe along towards