restaurant a second time, particularly as one
finds important placards pasted against the
dead wall in the Rue Vivienne, describing
the gastronomic temptations of "Le Rosbif."
Le Rosbif is a Gallic-English house, on
the Place de la Bourse, where Parisians
are led to believe they enjoy the roast beef of
Old England. The bills of this establishment,
printed upon gay yellow paper, are in French
and English. ln the English translation one
is reminded again of the popularity of the
legumes; and the retiring are informed that
"one can have private dining rooms." One
may be tempted to try Le Rosbif; and
possibly it may be a good establishment, where
the traveller may find better meat than English.

Gallic-English of the peculiar character
already instanced, is not used simply in shops
and restaurants; it does duty even in educated
circles; it is pressed into the service of the
papers. The reader at the Rotonde may find
various specimens of this outlandish language
even in the important journals of France.
The Débats is indignantly describing some
instance of ruffianism, and in endeavouring to
convey to its readers all the atrocity of which
the monster in hand is guilty, makes him
exclaim, in his moment of passionate cruelty:
—"Let us them Lynch!  The Siècle has a
vivid description of the "Goldstream Guards!"

Gallic-English is to be heard in every
corner of Paris; it is talked by the
student of the Ecole du Droit, who asks you
whether "you speak an Englishmans?"
I once heard it well spoken by an actor
on the stage of the Vaudeville—who,
playing the Emperor Napoleon in the act of
planning the defeat of the English off
Boulogne, and noticing a particular British tar
retreating at a wonderful pace, exclaimed
in Gallic-English of the most finished
style—"He is a foutif Englishman!" This
exclamation brought down thunders of
applause. It cost me some time to
discover what kind of animal, of what race
ethnologically a "foutif Englishman" could be.
By slow degrees, and a dictionary, I arrived
at the conclusion that the author of this
Napoleonic drama had found this word or
something like it set against the French
word for retreating. The English word would
possibly be furtive. The victim of a slight
railway accident, exhibiting his broken language
and his riven trousers to me one afternoon,
earnestly desired inspection of the
"accident extraordinare that had arrived to
'im." He had not learnt that the words
happen and arrive are never synonymous in
English.

Few absurdities go beyond the absurd
systems on which most English pupils are
taught French, and the French are taught
English. The finished pupil of a French
master who shall have been assiduous in
his attention to accent and grammar, will
often arrive in Paris the speaker of a
language that will cost him a thousand
difficulties. At the restaurant instead of calling
for his "addition," when he has finished
his dinner, he will inevitably inquire for
his billet. He will take "du café" after
his dinner, instead of a "demi-tasse;" he will
be incommoded with a bottle of beer, when
he is thirsty, instead of a choppe? He
can read Montaigne, but he cannot
understand Henri the waiter, who will offer to
his customers, "Byecutlets of veal," meaning
the "entrecôtes," in Anglican-English
—the ribs.

It is a pity that conversation classes are
not more general; for French, being a language
of phrases, can only be properly taught
by means of conversation.

Specimens of pronunciation, copied
verbatim from a new and popular child's book,
will show how lessons for giving English
children a Parisian accent are framed. The
author directs his little pupils to talk
about an "aid-de-cang;" to mix in the
"bo-móngde;" not to believe that they
can do everything by a "coo-de-mang;" in
reading, never to skip the parts of a book, in
their eagerness to learn the "den-noo-mang;"
to take sufficient exercise to check any
tendency to "ang-bong-póing;" to avoid
"ang-wee" in their "ang-tray" into life;
never to indulge in foolish "zheu-de-mo,"
nor to lose solid acquirements in the
enticements of "zheu-de-spree." He discourages
"mo-vays hongte" as "oot-ray."

Most commercial men know that lately a
rage for docks has seized upon the Parisian
mind. The Napoleon docks, which are to
receive the vast tonnage which is to make its
way to Paris, have long been the topic of
conversation in the cafés and elsewhere. This
rage has been, at last, turned to account by a
cheap tailor of comprehensive mind; who
deals with thousands; and informs the people
of Paris, through the medium of huge posters,
that he has no less than five thousand "coach-
manns" ready for their inspection. These
"coachmanns" appear to be thick coats or
cloaks just now popular in the French capital.
But it is to the sign of this great tailor's
establishment that the attention of the Parisian
is directed. The sign is "AU DOCKS DE LA
TOILETTE!"

NEW TALE by Mr. CHARLES DICKENS now
publishing Weekly in HOUSEHOLD WORDS.

On the Twenty-seventh of May will be published, in Household
Words, the NINTH PORTION of a New Work of
Fiction called

HARD TIMES.

BY CHARLES DICKENS.

The publication of this Story will be continued in HOUSEHOLD
WORDS from Week to Week, and completed in Five Months from its
commencement on the First of April.

Price of each Weekly Number of HOUSEHOLD WORDS,
(containing, besides, the usual variety of matter). Twopence; or Stamped,
Threepence.

HOUSEHOLD WORDS, CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.
is published also in Monthly Parts and in Half-yearly Volumes.