its breeders of "gentles" as well. The more
than two thousand enthusiastic anglers, men
and boys, which the city numbers, need a good
deal of bait for their lines, and an old man,
known as Père Salin. found a way to supply it.
The calling is anything but a clean one,
although the manufacture was, so to say,
self-working. All that was requisite was, to obtain
a good supply of defunct domestic animals and
store them away in an old loft until they were
in a state of putrescence, when the gentles
were collected and packed in tin cases, known
as "culotées," for which a couple of francs
each were charged, and by the sale of which
our gentle merchant realised a profit of about
fifteen francs a day in the height of the season.
In the winter he turned his attention to rearing
worms for nightingales—a first-rate business
in its way, yielding an ample return on an
insgnificant capital; the Parisians who keep
nightingales being mostly rich old women and
quiet tradesmen, who pay well for the favourite
food of their pets.

Everybody knows the cleverly made-up
"dummies" with which small tradesmen all
the world over stock their shops, but few
would imagine, that the handsome joints of
meat and other comestibles, which are
displayed in the windows of the inferior class of
Paris restaurants to tempt the passing
epicure, are simply hired for the purpose. Certain
butchers do a considerable trade in letting out
these show joints, these graceful gigots,
succulent-looking fillets and elegantly trimmed
cutlets, arranged with such art to catch the eyes
of the unwary. To let out provisions on hire
seems strange enough, but hardly more strange
than letting out clean linen, which is a trade of
itself in the low quarters of Paris. The
garment exchanged is required to be of equal
value with that let on hire, otherwise a
proportionate deposit, in addition to the fixed
price paid in advance for the hiring, is exacted.
Among other odd things let on hire in Paris,
leeches may be enumerated. You can secure
the services of a dozen of these useful little
animals, which are such benefactors to
mankind and meet with so much ingratitude in
return, at the rate of a couple of sous each,
and many of their owners will bring them and
set them biting for a small extra payment.

Among the more out-of-the-way Parisian
types, one of the most peculiar is the individual
known as the "guardian angel," who, while
ordinarily the poorest of the poor, is required
to be scrupulously honest, as well as firm
against all attempts at cajolery, sober in the
midst of temptation, and brave in the presence
of danger. He flourishes chiefly in the
outskirts of the city, where wine-shops, although
sufficiently numerous, are not quite at every
man's door as they are in many quarters of
Paris, and during the day hangs about the
more thriving of these establishments doing
odd jobs for the proprietor in return for a
scanty meal; while in the evening he waits
patiently in front of the counter until his
services are in requisition to assist any member
of the company home, whose potations may
have rendered incapable of performing that
office for himself. From the moment he is
engaged, he has to exhibit an almost diplomatic
skill in frustrating the various schemes
which wine is apt to suggest to its more ardent
votaries, on finding themselves subject to
unpleasant supervision. As he who has already
drank too much invariably wants to continue
drinking, it is of the utmost importance, when
once the guardian angel has got his charge on
the road home, for him to steer clear of the
invitingly open doors of the various
wine-shops along their line of route; he must,
moreover, disregard alike his entreaties,
prayers, promises, and threats, while pretending
to respect them; must prevent his charge
from engaging in conversation with passers-by,
and keep him from entangling himself in
broils; or failing this, must tear him away by
brute force, and even fight for him, if necessary.
If he cannot otherwise get him along,
he must be able to carry him home on his
back. The guardian angel is held responsible
for whatever property his charge has about
him, who, next day, will reward his guide,
philosopher, and friend of the night before
with a franc, or half a franc, according as he is
liberal or mean in such matters. He is not
likely to shuffle out of paying the fee, as this
would subject him to being cut by all his boon
companions, who would feel their own safety,
in the hour of danger, imperilled, should the
guardian angel of the clique be once defrauded
of his due. Some of these succourers of frail
humanity provide themselves with hand-barrows,
in which they deposit their charge when
he is in an utterly helpless state, and wheel
him leisurely home. As a guardian angel's
opportunities of earning money come all together,
as it were, and as, moreover, he can only
conduct one fallen spirit home at a time, his
nightly earnings rarely exceed two francs, and
commonly not more than half that amount.

The clients of the guardian angel sleep
soundly as a matter of course. Should their
avocations require them to be astir at sunrise,
Paris has its living alarums to waken them
up at the modest charge of two sous. In the
neighbourhood of the great central market,
where the thousands of people employed have
to be at their posts by daybreak, and for this
reason live as close to the spot as possible, the
réveilleuse, as she is styled, abounds. Heavy
sleepers, such as those who have been
conducted home overnight by guardian angels,
and who live on fourth or fifth floors, are far
from profitable clients, as, no matter the
amount of time wasted in rousing them, the
fee is still only two sous. By many of her
clients the réveilleuse is received with growls
interspersed with oaths; but, nowise intimidated,
she replies with smiles and the soft
answers that turn away wrath. She is nevertheless
resolute, and never quits a client until
he is thoroughly awake.

Another strange Parisian calling is that of
the wedding poet, who watches the announcement