CHAPTER XXXI.

The Shops in Paris; Small Stocks; Lady Brokers; Female Barbers; Shaving and Rocking Chairs unknown; Living in Paris; Expense ; General Cass and Mr. Stevenson; Fashionable Mansions; Furniture, &c.; Theatres; Opera; Floating Baths; Laundresses; Fruit, Cake, and Fish Women; Their Reverence of Napoleon; Polytechnic Scholars; Costume; Public Hacks, Cabs, Horses, and Diligences, &c.

THE shops in Paris, although most tastefully and beautifully arranged to make a show for attraction, are not so large, neither have they one half the stock of an English or American shop in the same business. Their plan is, small profits and quick sales, either on a large or small capital. The jewellers' shops make a splendid show from the streets, but for the value and extent of their stocks, they should not be mentioned on the same day with those in Bond and Regent Streets, London. Most of the shops in Paris, as in London, are attended by females. Even if you have business in the exchange or brokerage way, you are waited on and your business transacted (if not very difficult) by an interesting young lady, whose father, most probably, has retired from business with a fortune made in the same office. If you enter a barber's shop to have your hair cut or arranged for a party, you are trimmed off by the tapering fingers of an interesting, young, smiling, graceful female. Strange as it may seem, yet not in all Paris or London is there to be found, in any one of their barber's shops, such a simple article as an easy, luxurious shaving-chair, such as are to be found in every two-penny shaving-shop in the United States. In all cases, the common, hard-bottom windsor chair is used, with your head thrown back resting on air. Quite comfortable, with a razor which requires stropping every few moments, and a barber with an unsteady hand.

The beautiful, luxurious rocking-chairs, which have adorned every lady's parlour in the United States for the last quarter of a century, have only been known in London or Paris within a few

years past, and even to this day, are "like angels' visits, few and far between," and looked upon and admired as curiosities, but becoming now quite fashionable, as every packet takes out a few of them on speculation.

Wine, furniture, horses, carriages, theatres, lights, fruit, books, rents, servants, wages, &c., are all much cheaper, and taxes less, in Paris, than in London. The advantages of living in Paris, as a matter of economy, depend, I should think, altogether upon the degree of luxury to be obtained. Our Minister in Paris, General Cass, resided in a Chateau suitable for a Prince, for which he paid but $800 rent; whereas Mr. Stevenson, our Minister at the Court of St. James, residing in a mansion in Grosvenor Square, London, paid 600 guineas ($3000) rent, being surrounded by the aristocracy, whose yearly incomes were from £10,000 to £30,000 sterling, and was compelled, in a measure, to live up to his salary of $9,000, for the honour of representing the great American Republic, and in doing this, was obliged to study the strictest economy, and even keep his servants on board wages, depending on a neighbouring restaurant for his meals. The necessity for parade, so much the more costly of all the appendages to rank, may, in Paris, be greatly dispensed with, and that without any degradation whatever.

But not so in London; appearances there, as in the United States, are every thing, and must be kept up even at the sacrifice of comfort and domestic felicity. All, all must give way for outward show! The passage, or hall of houses of the most opulent in Paris are neither furnished or carpeted, and the stairways the same, which gives the appearance of being untenanted, yet, on entering the brilliant and splendid rooms and saloons, the contrast so great and sudden takes one with surprise. Even the halls and passages of the mansions of the nobility in London, are not even to be compared for elegance and comfort, with those in the American cities, which no traveller will dispute. In France, it is much more easy to enter into conversation with strangers, than than either in England or the United States. There seems a courteous inclination to welcome every attempt at doing so, which appears to pervade all ranks, and any one who wishes it, may easily find or make opportunities of hearing the opinions of all classes. To one anxious to seek information, this trait in the character of the Parisians should be estimated and valued accordingly while sojourning among them.

The Theatres in Paris appeared to be well attended, but I frequently heard the same observation made there as in the United States, and in England upon the decline of the legitimate drama, or theatrical taste, especially among the higher orders, which arises, I should think, from the same causes in all three of these theatrical countries. The performance of comedy is too

often accompanied by an unwarrantable freedom among the actors of attempting to assist the author, or, in other words, making the author responsible for sentences which he would not be guilty of expressing, even in a tap-room, much less in manuscript, for the eye and ear of a refined, intellectual, and respectable audience. It requires for its success, however, and indeed for its endurance, that the audience should be, on such occasions, perfectly in good humour. The Opera House is always fully attended, even without the assistance and smile of royalty, so necessary to insure a full house at the Italian Opera, London. The Opera generally opens one hour after the Theatres, to give time for late dinners, &c.

The floating baths on the Seine in Paris, are as commodious and as well attended as those admirable floating baths near Castle Garden, New York, which have the advantage of those on the Seine, by floating on salt water. These baths are in the vicinity of the Tuileries, and charge but half a franc for a single bath, shower or otherwise. Should the tourist take an early bath on a Monday morning, and then wend his way down the banks of the Seine, he will be much amused on seeing the hundreds of French women at their work, washing and chanting National songs on the river side in the very heart of the city. Should he go among them, let him tell them he is an American citizen, be sure to eulogise Napoleon and Lafayette, and they will treat him with some of those soul-stirring National airs, as sang in the revolution, which inspired the people to deeds of chivalry and victory. The time will not be regretted nor forgotten. Should he, however, speak of Napoleon other than having been a great General or ood Emperor, he would have a shower-bath of suds, if he should not be soused head and heels in some of the tubs standing near at hand, so much do this class of people revere the memory and name of their late Emperor.

Standing one morning in the faubourg St. Denis, making a small purchase from one of the numerous fruit and cake women, I, for effect, pointed to the statue of Napoleon, on the towering column at Place Vendome, observing that "France would never see so great and good an Emperor again, as the great Napoleon, the friend of the poor." The old lady on hearing me laud Napoleon, refused to receive a single sous for my purchase, and began to preach in so loud a tone about the merits and victories of Napoleon as to bring about an immense crowd of men and women, who all seemed as much excited by their gestures as the old lady herself; called me the good American, and friend to the late Emperor, &c. Such were their friendly feelings, that I could have had any thing in the eating or drinking line, for a month from their tables without charge. This little occurrence, and similar ones which I I met while roving about Paris, convinced me of the great influence the

women have in exciting the men during a revolution in France. They seem to have a deep, holy reverence for the memory of Napoleon, which no time can change, and which is handed down to their children.

On the death of Louis Philippe, a revolution will be likely to follow, and it will be found that a great mass of the lower class of women will be the instigators. All the scholars of the Polytechnic School dress as did the late Emperor, even to the three-cornered chapeau, and imitate him in every gesture and look, such is their admiration of his character, although not one of them were born when Napoleon died. You will see on Sundays, a hundred of these young Napoleons about the streets and gardens of Paris, who seem to take a delight in seeing who can make himself appear most like the late Emperor; they are great favourites among all the fruit, cake, and fish women in the city, and are hailed with joy wherever they appear.

The present enlightened age seems to have changed all things for the better in Paris, except public hacks and diligences. These continue and look as if they were made a century ago, and the horses and harness are well matched to drag these strange uncouth vehicles about the city, and from town to town. It is surprising to an American who sees with delight the beautiful coaches and horses at home, when he arrives in Paris, to behold the oldfashioned chariots and lazy cart-like horses attached to them on the stands. As England is famed and justly too, for their beautiful stage-coaches and horses, it is a matter of wonder, when so near, that the French people have not long since followed their fashion, to accommodate the travelling public, and that they have not only introduced the stage-coach, but the public hack and cab into the city of Paris. But neither Paris nor London can show such convenient and beautiful hacks ani cabs, as are daily seen on the American stands, in any of the great cities of our country.

CHAPTER XXXII.

Paris; Alexander at Versailles; Sunday in Paris; Dress of the Parisian Ladies; Rouge, False Hair and Jewelry Discarded; Courtesy of the Parisians; English Ladies in Paris, their Dress, etc. etc.

DELIGHTFUL and gay Paris! No wonder the great Napoleon called thee his bride, and caused Europe, and, I may say the world, to contribute to thy glory and splendour. One month spent in the enjoyment of thy inexhaustible resources, in partaking of thy agreeable promenades, in regarding thy light and elegant divertisements, is worth a whole year of lounging about the portal or piazza of a hotel, as in the case of a vast number of travellers who enter thy gates and attempt to portray thy numberless attractions. Rousseau says, that "cela se fait" and "cela ne se fait pas" are the words which regulate every thing that goes on within the walls of Paris. A tourist may travel all over the world, and see all its wonders, curiosities, splendours and amusements, visit its gayest courts, &c., and if he has not been in Paris, a Parisian will tell him that he has seen nothing at all, and that there is but one Paris in the world. -In the latter statement, I believe all who have visited Paris will most cheerfully concur with the enthusiastic Parisians, that taking all things in consideration, a vast city, even without commerce, near two hundred miles from the ocean, and convulsed as she has been by wars and bloody revolutions for half a century, yet under all these disadvantages, to still maintain her supremacy over her sister European cities, is indeed most truly astonishing. The Emperor Alexander, on his visiting Paris in 1815, expressed freely his astonishment at its splendour and festivities; but when he saw the Palace of Versailles, its paintings, statuary, its magnificent and seeming boundless gardens, with their numerous costly marble basins and fountains in full play, turning to the Duke of Wellington he observed, "Who, your Grace, can for one moment wonder, or even blame Napoleon for preferring this truly enchanting spot to the small, rock-bound, sterile Elba?"