. Plucky boys. as far as he would go; to no place in partic-ular, but to keep on going. And he did, until at lasthe stopped and declared he would not go a step far-ther. He tumbled their things out just where theywere, and drove off; and to this day none of theparty know how far they went, or where they were. The three slept there on the ground all night;and when morning came they got into a peasantscart, and he carried them to a railroad which tookthem into the north of France. From there theywent to Le Mans, a charming old historic city morethan a hundred miles to the west of Paris; a placef
. Plucky boys. as far as he would go; to no place in partic-ular, but to keep on going. And he did, until at lasthe stopped and declared he would not go a step far-ther. He tumbled their things out just where theywere, and drove off; and to this day none of theparty know how far they went, or where they were. The three slept there on the ground all night;and when morning came they got into a peasantscart, and he carried them to a railroad which tookthem into the north of France. From there theywent to Le Mans, a charming old historic city morethan a hundred miles to the west of Paris; a placefull of antique buildings, and rich in associations withthe Roman founders, William the Conqueror, and thePlantagenets. A BOY SCULPTOR. 29 That was Pauls first experience of France; andthat was the mode of his first departure from Paris;eventful episodes in a childs life. At Le Mans they lived until late in the autumn,then crossed over to England, where they partedcompany, the Russian lady leaving them. By this. time Mr. Bartlett had arrived in London, and therethe re-united family spent a short time, when he wentto Rome, and the mother and boy came home toAmerica, remaining here until 1874, when they wentback to France, and have stayed there till now. Mr. Bartlett took a house in Paris, but the nextyear went out to Port Marley to live-7-such a de- 130 A BOY SCULPTOR. lightful place!—and there he had a studio. Theboy went to the village school, a little parochial schoolwhere the children of poor peasants went. All this timehe did not care anything about drawing. It was thelast thing one would have supposed he ever thoughtof. The parents, however, watched him, expectingthat some day he would give signs that he was bornfor art. He was just living his own happy life ;and it was the happiest kind that ever was. Hehad his own pleasures; if there was any in going tothe Salon or the Zoologic, he had it. He lived a per-fectly joyous life, just as they wished him to; withno restraints,
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