On receiving the intimation of the prizes awarded to him, he made another journey to Paris to pay his respects to his devoted friends of the Academy. He was received with welcome by the most eminent persons in the metropolis. He was fêted as usual. At the salon of the Marquis de Barthélemy he met the Duc de Levis, the Duc des Cars, MM. Berryer, de Salvandy, de Vatismenil, Hyde de Neuville, and other distinguished noblemen and gentlemen.

Monsigneur Sibour, Archbishop of Paris, was desirous of seeing and hearing this remarkable poet of the South. The Archbishop invited him to his palace for the purpose of hearing a recitation of his poems; and there he met the Pope's Nuncio, several bishops, and the principal members of the Parisian clergy. After the recitation, the Archbishop presented Jasmin with a golden branch with this device: "To Jasmin! the greatest of the Troubadours, past, present, or to come."

The chief authors of Paris, the journalists, and the artists, had a special meeting in honour of Jasmin. A banquet was organised by the journalists of the Deux Mondes, at the instance of Meissonier, Lireux, Lalandelle, C. Reynaud, L. Pichat, and others. M. Jules Janin presided, and complimented Jasmin in the name of the Parisian press. The people of Agen, resident in Paris, also gave him a banquet, at which Jasmin recited a poem composed for the occasion.

One of his evenings was spent at the house of Madame la Marquise de Barthélemy. An interesting account of the soiree is given by a correspondent of Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, who was present on the occasion.² The salons of Madame la Marquise were filled to overflowing. Many of the old nobility of France were present. "It was a St. Germain's night," as she herself expressed it. High-sounding names were there--much intellect and beauty; all were assembled to do honour to the coiffeur from the banks of the Garonne. France honours intellect, no matter to what class of society it belongs: it is an affectionate kind of social democracy. Indeed, among many virtues in French society, none is so delightful, none so cheering, none so mutually improving, and none more Christian, than the kindly intercourse, almost the equality, of all ranks of society, and the comparatively small importance attached to wealth or condition, wherever there is intellect and power.

At half-past nine. Jasmin made his appearance--a short, stout, dark-haired man, with large bright eyes, and a mobile animated face, his button-hole decorated with the red ribbon of the Legion of Honour. He made his way through the richly attired ladies sparkling with jewels, to a small table at the upper end of the salon, whereon were books, his own "Curl-papers," two candles, a carafe of fresh water, and a vase of flowers.

The ladies arranged themselves in a series of brilliant semicircles before him. The men blocked up the doorway, peering over each other's shoulders. Jasmin waved his hand like the leader of an orchestra, and a general silence sealed all the fresh noisy lips. One haughty little brunette, not long emancipated from her convent, giggled audibly; but Jasmin's eye transfixed her, and the poor child sat thereafter rebuked and dumb. The hero of the evening again waved his hands, tossed back his hair, struck an attitude, and began his poem. The first he recited was "The Priest without a Church" (Le Prèste sans glèyzo). He pleaded for the church as if it were about to be built. He clasped his hands, looked up to heaven, and tears were in his eyes. Some sought for the silver and gold in their purses; but no collection was made, as the church had already been built, and was free of debt.

After an interval, he recited La Semaine d'un Fils; and he recited it very beautifully. There were some men who wept; and many women who exclaimed, "Charmant! Tout-à-fait charmant!" but who did not weep. Jasmin next recited Ma Bigno, which has been already described. The contributor to Chambers's Journal proceeds: "It was all very amusing to a proud, stiff, reserved Britisher like myself, to see how grey-headed men with stars and ribbons could cry at Jasmin's reading; and how Jasmin, himself a man, could sob and wipe his eyes, and weep so violently, and display such excessive emotion. This surpassed my understanding -- probably clouded by the chill atmosphere of the fogs, in which every Frenchman believes we live. . . . After the recitations had concluded, Jasmin's social ovation began. Ladies surrounded him, and men admired him. A ring was presented, and a pretty speech spoken by a pretty mouth, accompanied the