quality to him. Let him have a care,
however, while he stares. There are terrible
dangers in these same streets of Paris. For
it is customary to drive at full speed, and
his ears will be deafened with an eternal
Gare! Gare! look out! M. le Prince conies
thundering along with six horses. He used
to have two couriers running on in front,
whose white silk stockings some way never
showed a speck; but now the mode is to have
dogs, monster dogs, bounding in front, howling,
barking, and certain to overthrow every
unguarded passenger. Poor Jean Jacques
was once knocked down by a huge Danish
dog on the Menil road, and was left there
while the owner of the carriage passed on.
It had grown to be a dangerous nuisance
this furious driving and couriership of dogs.
Daily were the canaille being spilt in the
gutter, there being no trottoir for walkers.
The light conveyances known as diables,
carrying people to business or to keep
appointments, did grievous bodily harm. So,
too, did the vinaigrettes, or little basket
carriages. Should Provincial be run down,
his chance of redress will altogether depend
on the wheel that has done the mischief—
say, broken Provincial's leg. The coachman
has only to look to his fore wheel. The
larger one he is not accountable for: so he
may with comfort bid an unholy person take
that hindermost. The canaille's broken
limbs were to be paid for, if payment should
be pressed for, by a fixed tarif hung up at
the Police. Was there not here something
to help us to the unravelling of that terrible
discontent and murmuring below the
surface?

The paving of that good city was not over
much attended to. For after heavy rains, there
would be broad rivers intersecting the streets
—so cutting off all progress, as it were by a
trench. The diables and berlines dashed
through without impediment; but how was
it to be with our pedestrians, for whom there
was no flag-way? Utter stoppage, unless
for the good offices of certain ingenious
cripples, whose trade it was to carry about a
couple of planks, which, for a sou, would be
turned into a flying bridge. Towards the
hour of dinner, then three o'clock, many a
hapless diner out, who could not compass
the charge of a fiacre, or devil, was to be
seen in pumps and buckles, and speckless
white stockings, hovering on the edge of the
river, looking vainly for a cripple and his
flying-bridge. Such pedestrian diners, from
long practice, would bring in both pumps
and stockings without a fleck,—such skill
did they acquire in picking their steps.
Other dangers were there, too. Awful fogs,
lasting for whole days, would come on of a
sudden; and all Paris in the streets thrown
into inextricable confusion. With remedy
here, too,—from the blind, this time, as
before from the cripples.

Blind men rose to a premium on such
occasions, and five louis per diem was the least
for which one was attainable. You took hold
of him by his coat, and he led you safe to
any part of the city; which would do well
enough for the street, but to find the house,
either in or out of the fog, must have been a
hard thing in those days. Certain reformers
had tried to set on foot a scheme for
numbering of all houses; which had to be
abandoned from the violent opposition of noble
proprietors. Too proletarian a notion, that,
by half. And so the stranger had to grope
among a myriad of cordons bleus, and silver
beards, seeking the sign of his particular
house.

Wonderful indeed were the toilets to be
seen through the glass windows of the
berlines belonging to the persons of quality;
some of those airy head-dresses being known
as windmills, sheep, and running brooks,
One favourite piece of art went by the name
of the Huntsman in the Grove. The modistes
would tell you it was their newest thing in
that line. There was a sweet tone
introduced in speaking of such things by the
artists. The cap might be balanced on each
side by two surpassing attentions, and be
garnished with folded sentiments. You
might have caps à la Grénade, à la Thisbé;
or, if preferred, à la Boston, à la Philadelphia,
à la anything. Provincial will see with
wonder these tall structures suddenly sink
as madame enters the glass coach, which
would be too low to tolerate them. There
is a spring and ingenious mechanism inside,
which produces this result.

There is a singular variety in men's hats,
to be noted by Provincial, as he goes by.
The prevailing tone of the day has set in for
white,—white millers' hats, just as the ladies
rejoice in caps à la windmill. Nothing
fluctuated so much as the aspect of the brim:
one week the taste leaning towards a narrow
edge, hardly sufficient to lay hold of; the
next, the world going about with terrible
Guy Fawkes leaves, which were slouched
down conspirator-like, or bent up, and
twisted comically into the likeness of a
boat. Then Anglomaniacs—legion now—
had peculiar coverings, which they called
Hats à la Pare Angloise; with what likeness
to that English fashion may be well
conceived.

This same Anglomania was then rampant.
The young men of ton, and even of no ton
at all, went about in large drab coats of
three capes; and with great cravats swathed
thickly about their necks. The hair must
be cut close to be like the English; and there
was actually a peculiar gait known as, " Trot
à l'Anglois," and which consisted in stepping
out sturdily, keeping the back well bent--
very much affected by citizen Father o'
Families. The redingote then first came
upon the town, precursor of that famous
grey garment, the great military chief was
hereafter to take delight in. All along the