else but hers. Yet sometimes she overdoes it, as nature in the peony; or
underdoes it, as nature in the bramble; or--what is still more
frequent--is a little slatternly about it, as nature in the pig-weed.

In this congenial vicinity of the Latin Quarter, and in an ancient
building something like those alluded to, at a point midway between the
Palais des Beaux Arts and the College of the Sorbonne, the venerable
American Envoy pitched his tent when not passing his time at his country
retreat at Passy. The frugality of his manner of life did not lose him
the good opinion even of the voluptuaries of the showiest of capitals,
whose very iron railings are not free from gilt. Franklin was not less a
lady's man, than a man's man, a wise man, and an old man. Not only did
he enjoy the homage of the choicest Parisian literati, but at the age of
seventy-two he was the caressed favorite of the highest born beauties of
the Court; who through blind fashion having been originally attracted to
him as a famous _savan_, were permanently retained as his admirers by
his Plato-like graciousness of good humor. Having carefully weighed the
world, Franklin could act any part in it. By nature turned to knowledge,
his mind was often grave, but never serious. At times he had
seriousness--extreme seriousness--for others, but never for himself.
Tranquillity was to him instead of it. This philosophical levity of
tranquillity, so to speak, is shown in his easy variety of pursuits.
Printer, postmaster, almanac maker, essayist, chemist, orator, tinker,
statesman, humorist, philosopher, parlor man, political economist,
professor of housewifery, ambassador, projector, maxim-monger,
herb-doctor, wit:--Jack of all trades, master of each and mastered by
none--the type and genius of his land. Franklin was everything but a
poet. But since a soul with many qualities, forming of itself a sort of
handy index and pocket congress of all humanity, needs the contact of
just as many different men, or subjects, in order to the exhibition of