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narrow streets of Paris, and not justice to the French to say, that at caring a straw whom they ran over. their cheapest eating-houses the One almost wishes, when such things dishes are good, and the customers as these are witnessed, that this. fa- have silver forks with clean napkins. mily were compelled to return to the A Frenchman may well be disgusted obscurity in which they were sup- at the mode of conducting business ported by British hospitality, and in the very best eating-houses in which they could never have emerged London, when he contrasts them from without the generous assistance with the establishments of the same of the British nation.

nature in Paris. The poor people

who can get any thing to eat (many MODE OF LIVING IN PARIS. are without food for two days togeThere is hardly any such thing as ther) live upon soup made of vegea domestic fire-side in this capital. tables and bread. The middle classes The French have no comforts at are also very economical in their mode bome, and pass their leisure in of living; a very respectable tradescoffee-houses and eating-houses. man and his family of seven or eight Daring the winter there is no place persons will dine for about Is. 6d. 80 wretched as one's own dwelling; One of the dishes is an excellent a good fire cannot be had without dish made from beans called hariopening the doors and windows, the cots; the beans are boiled for some chimnies being so badly constructed time, and, when perfectly soft, they as to cause the greatest inconveni- make a good dish, with a little butence from smoke, unless a great deal ter, parsley, pepper, and salt. To of wind is allowed to enter the apart- the water in which they were boiled ment. Wood is the fuel used by the herbs, one of which is sorrel, are Parisians; and it is so dear, that, in added, and one or two eggs are also order to keep up one fire from mors- beaten up and put in. When these ing till night, one must pay at least have boiled for a short time, the soup 14 or 15 francs a week. Such a fire, is really excellent, and at the same as a very poor person in England time nutritious. Louis XVIII, has can afford to have, will here cost a this dish three or four times a week, franc a day: the poor, therefore, are and many persons of rank also have destitute of this comfort. They get it from choice. As there is so little a little charcoal and an earthen pot, comfort in the private houses, the with which they make their coffee French men and women are as little and soup Those who are able at home as possible. They go to the breakfast at a coffee-house, and dine coffee-houses, and take a cup of cofat a restaurateur's. A Frenchman of fee, a bottle of beer, or a glass of small income, who has po house- sugar and water. At some of these keeping, breakfasts upon dry bread, coffee-houses there are plays acted, and dines at a restaurateur's, for 22 which the customers see gratis; but sous to 2 francs, according to his the performances are of the lowest means, where he has soup, 3 dishes, description, as may well be imagin, bread, half a bottle of wine, and des- ed. T'he French are also very ecosert. Very few persons make more nomical in their parties, and I'think than two meals a day, breakfast and properly so. In England, if a trades. dinner; the former, where the means man has a few friends, nothing is are equal to it, is generally à la four thought of but eating and drinking, chette'; at the latter the quantity and the guests talk of the party the eater is enormous; indeed the French next day, not of the society which are the greatest eaters in the world. they met, but of the good things A labouring man, who has only bread which they devoured. Here society, for his dinner, will, if he can get so and not stuffing one's belly, is connuch, eat from four to six pounds sidered ; a little punch and cake is at this meal; and the Frenchman all that is offered: even sometimes who dines at a restaurateur's, gene in the best families there is no rerally eats two pounds, besides his freshment. The visitors dine late soup and three dishes. At the lead before they go to the party, and reing restaurateurs', a good dinner turn home to take refreshment at will cost seven or eight francs, ex- their own expense before they go to elusive of wine; but it is only doing bed. (16 be continued.)

LIFE IN LONDON ; OR, RAISING THE WIND.

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Tom CHAMPERTON was certainly rience when they get into difficulone of the best companions in the ties, that the feeders on his bounty world. His good nature and good were exceedingly libera! in telling temper, his wit, his humour, his him what line of conduct would gay and flexible manners rendered have prevented all his distresses ; him a delightful companion ; nay, but he found, that these sage adit was impossible to be in his com- visers seldom or ever accompanied pany without wishing to see him their advice, or rather their reagain, or even without wishing to proaches, with the weighty con. become an intimate friend. Tom's comitants of pounds, shillings, and heart was the very fountain of ge- pence. It was wretched to see the nerosity; and, had his inheritance poor fellow struggling between been the mine of Gołconda, in less pride and poverty; for with all his than ten years Tom would have dug levity he had considerable pride, to his antipodes, and converted and nothing on earth could induce the mine to an abyss. But, after all, him to beg a favour; it was true there was no depending on the fel. he would borrow ad infinitum, and low; a woman, a bottle of wine, without the means or even a thought a water-party, or any frolic what- of repaying the loan; but in the days ever would make him give up, or of his prosperity, and they were bril, rather forget, the most serious and liant days, he had never dreamt of solemn engagement. Tom's patri- asking any man to repay any of the mony was by no means contemp- numerous sums that they had bortible; bu it is no great difficulty rowed of him. It was not that he to conceive, that, if it did not solve thought it ungentlemanly or uns the problem of perpetual motion, it generous to ask a friend for money. was likely very soon to establish, The fact was, he had never given it beyond all controversy, the power- a thought at all; and when once he ful effects of rápid circulation. In lent his cash, it as thoroughly vashort, before the age of thirty, the nished from his mind, as it often fellow had been an inmate of at eventually vanished from his pocket. least thrice thirty sponging houses He had certainly not exhausted the and prisons; and it was wonderful benevolence of my disposition, but to see the easy gentility, with which he had thoroughly exhausted my he would return the bows of the ability to support him. From a different bailiffs that passed him ten-pound note, the fellow had at in the street—all old acquaintances. last come down to the frequent I had missed him from London for you haven't got a half-crown several months, when, unexpectedly in your pocket, have you?”-and meeting him in Portman-square, I so many times had I answered, -joyfully accosted him, and, cordially yes, I have,” that I, at last, found shaking his hands, I began with, it necessary to alter my tone. It

my dear Tom, where have you was impossible to say that I had not been for the last six months? I a half-crown in my pocket : that thought you had been in the Bench." was out of the question; credulity -“ Pshaw." said he, with a good itself would not have believed it, natured but laconic contempt, “who, even had she come to the good Ca. my dear fellow, would take the trou- tholic doctrine of the credo quia ble to put me in the Bench ?" impossibile est. I was, therefore,

But, very soon, his condition be- obliged to act the part of the man came exceedingly serious, and the in the farce, and, putting on a gruff generous fellow began to experience voice and manner foreign to my what all generous fellows do expe- nature, 1.at length always answered

this unpleasant question, with a recalled the picture of the once ele. “ Yes, I have, and I intend to keep gant and vivacious Tom Champer. it there."-Tom was never impor- ton ; but he soon relaxed into a tunate : he was never steady to any deeper melancholy than I conceived point, and, whatever were bis dis his nature was capable of. I tried tresses, this answer always drove to rally him into good spirits.him off his scent.

Come, come, my dear Tom,” said Thas had my friend been going I, carelessly," it used not always op for several years, when I altos to be thus with you-you were the gether missed him from the town. gayest fellow on the town; nothing

at length discovered his abode, could damp your spirits; you were and called on him at his lodgings, once the merriest, jollyest dog". three pair of stairs, Crow-alley.-- “ Yes, it was so once," answered he, How different from his onee lively casting a look around his room, and hospitable mansion in Bakers, which both reproached me for my street! Well bave I reason to re- levity, and pierced me to the heart : member my visit to him in these I shall never forget the look-I have infernal lodgings; and yet, how it before me now. It told me how can I call lodgings infernal, which hollow is friendship-what an unwere some of the highest in London. feeling creature is man. — Oh, it Satfice it to say, that I have reason spoke volumes, and told me more to remember my visit, for in going of human frailty and of human woe up his narrow, dark, winding stair. than, for the honour of human na: case, thrice did I knock my new hat ture, I would disclose. I was un against the ceiling, until it was able for a long time to recover my ruined; and in coming down these composure. In short, I did not amatural stairs, putting my heel on recover it, but with a voice of trer some orange - peel, I should have mulous feeling, I began to philofallen on all-fours, had it not been sophise with my fallen friend. that my nose came in contact with “ Let us," said I, “put the best the edge of a stair, some seconds face on every thing ; it is no use to before either of my all-fours had give way to sorrow, or to yield to found a resting-place. My hat was misfortune. Nature is elastic, and ruined, and so was my nose as to will recover her tone." -“ Will its beauty, I mean.

sbe," cried he, with a voice and look But to recover my anachronism, of bitter satire; and then grasping and to travel back again to my my hand with sudden emotion, and arrival at the top of the stairs—the the big tear glistening in his eye old hag of the house had told me to ready to o'erflow its bank, “ I tell knock at the door on my left, or in you," said he, dropping his voice, other terins, at the back garret door." I have not tasted food for these -At this door I knocked both loud three days; no, except three glasses and impatiently, for to speak the of brandy, and water which I have truth, I was by no means pleased drank with Sir Thomas Wilton, and with the landing place on which I a pint of ale which my landlady fested.-" Come in,” cried a dull, has scored against me, I have not low voice; and, breaking my nail touched food for these three days." by lifting the broken latch of the His countenance, poor fellow, cordoor, 1 entered a dull, miserable roborated his assertions. The fact apartment.--My friend was sitting was, that his old friends were alsadly in dishabille :- neither his ways happy to ask him to drink, stockings nor his breeches showed on account of his convivial talents, any marks of good housewifery; but they asked him not to eat, not his legs were stretched at their ut- conceiving he was in want of food; most length, his elbow was leaning and his pride would not let him dion a broken table, and his head on vulge a necessity so mortifying. Prehis hand: he was whistling a dole. sently, he resumed his former tone, ful lilliballero. “ Ah, my dear and began in his old strain, with, Champertop," said I, “ how are My good fellow, you haven't a you?". A mournful gleam of viva- half-crown in your pocket, have city shot across his eye as he shook you ?” “ No, my dear friend," said me by the hand, and I immediately 1,-"I have not, but I have a Eur. Mag. Jan. 1823.

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five pound note in my pocket-book, seven shillings ; such, thought I, is which is at your service."-" Thank the tax for my giving good advice.'' you, my dear fellow," said be, tak- Five days after this proceeding, ing the note; “ I will repay you I was one morning awakened by the punctually." This was in no spirit loud knock of a bony knuckle upon of fraud, it was merely the result of the pannel of my chamber door." if his utter carelessness of disposition. it did not literally split my door, it I am convinced, that, had an object metaphorically split my head. Startof distress applied to him in tive ing up, and putting on my dressing; minutes after, he would have freely gown, I vociferated in a terrified given the half of what I had just tone, “ Who's there " "

My dear bestowed on him,

Frank, let me in," cried Tom's wellAs soon as this gift had produced known voice. “ You have roused a favourable effect upon his spirits, me, I cried, out of the most deI began to converse with him upon elightful dream, and by a knock which his future means of support.

would have startled Nourjahad or must do something to support your- the Seven Sleepers-in the name of self” said I, in a tone of impressive goodness what is it you want?" seriousness. “What can a man like « Want, my dear Frank, why to me do,” replied he, with a shrug of tell you that my advertisement has his sloulders and a look at once been answered." By whom, said so distressed and ridiculous, that it 1?” “ By the Rev. Dr. Loquor; I both brought conviction on my mind, am to be at his house, No. 24, Camand set my assumed gravity at de- bridge-street, precisely at

ten." fiance, Upon my word, my dear “Well, my dear Tom, you had Tom, that ejaculation is a puzzler, better be off

, for it is now past but can't you contrive to use your nine." “ But,” answered he with pen; I remember you were a clever a long stop, and then gave a look at fellow as a boy, and I do believe, at his clothes, which was intelligible Westminster, you did half the ex- enough even to a person less exercises and translations of the lub- perienced in those looks than myself. bers of twice your age, and all for Pshaw, Tom, your clothes are a few shillings worth of oranges and well brushed, and if they are a little gingerbread; many a flogging have shabby, why it is all in character you saved me; besides which you with your new profession of letters."; were the Mercury of the school; Then came out another of his “Buts" and, for scaling a wall or robbing an with a look at his shirt, at which orchard, you were the ne plus ultra having cast my eyes, I could not in of perfection.” Tom's ideas were my conscience obey my inclination always very rapid. “An excellent to say it would do very well-it was thought,” cried he, “ give me the monstrously dirty, and if sleeves, col. inkstand, my dear fellow, let me lar, or frill be necessary to the definiwrite an advertisement; the ink- tion of a shirt, it had no more title to stand! the inkstand! be quick, before be called a shirt than it had to be I lose the idea." The deuce a bit of styled a pelisse or great coat. To inkstand could I behold, although my end the matter, I lent the fellow a eyes travelled round the room, or ra- shirt, and no sooner had he put it -ther surveyed the room without tra- on than he exclaimed, “ And my velling, for his chamber was of that dear Frank, lend me this false collar; size which Diogenes might almost I will give it to you on my return; have mistaken for his tub. Thrust- you won't mind paying for the ing his arm inspatiently before me washing of it.” Here I made a virtue he spatched from his mantle-piece of necessity: I should have refused what he called bis inkstand, which the collar, but, before I had time to was no wore nor less than the frag- say yea or nay, it was buttoned ment of a tea-cup, containing the round his long throat.

“ And this brown dried paste which was to neckcloth---do you think it will do ?” serve him forink. The advertisement said be, looking wistfully at my was well written, and duly appeared face, and holding before me a neckin that noted paper,

" The Times," cloth, on which no labour of the and for its insertion into which I washerwoman, but prodigious lahad as duly to pay the charge of bour of the needlewoman, had been bestowed. My consciencious love latter class of author to a T." "Yes, of candour and veracity would not threadbare enough,” said Tom, allow me to say, “ Yes, it will do,” holding up to me the skirt of his although I fatally knew, that an coat, so thoroughly worn, that I opposite answer would cost me the verily believe, had he ever bought price of a half handkerchief; so more than a quarter of a pound of that, half vexed at his thoughtless any commodity at one time, and impudence, I gave him no reply at deposited it in his pocket, the whole all, but handed him a neckcloth, skirt ipso facto would have severed taking care that it was the worst in from its kindred body. my wardrobe ; for I well knew, that Well, away he went on his misit was nunquam revertitur, never to sion and I began to muse on his return.

life, character, and behaviour. ChamTom was really a fine looking perton never had much of erudition. fellow; one of nature's gentlemen; His thoughts were of the burning and now that he had clean linen on, and comet cast ; he flew through his and, I may add, now that he had classics when a boy, with the power shaved and washed his face and and rapidity of an eagle; but, like bands, his appearance was wonder- many others of the eagle class, it was fully improved. In short, it admits light come light go with him. He reof no doubt, that a clean shave, with membered nothing-in short, he was washing the skin and changing the a genius, and his genius was of an linen, makes a great difference in order, admirably calculated to get any man's appearance. Casting a a man into a thousand difficulties satisfied look in the glass, he ex- and serapes. I thought, however, claimed, “Well, my dear Frank, he might succeed with Dr. Loquor, this will do, won't it? but a man for Tom had much of the current must not be quite ont of the world, learning of the day-every jest and so lend me this brooch until I re- song-book was at his fingers’ends. turn." This was going too far- He poured with delight over the the blood of my ancestors rose in my European Magazine; and, to speak reins-no, not by St. David, or St. the truth, he borrowed from the Lewis ap Reece ap Shenkin, shall European more than one half of the you touch that jewel of my bosom, good things, which, to the delight of and I laid a quick but firm hand on bis companions, he uttered," and my trinket. ** Lord-a-mercy,” said which he retailed with all the conhe, with a look of naivette and snr- fidence and assurance of originality. prize, “ I only intended to borrow The worst of Tom was his infi. it for an hour. Dr. Loquor won't, delity; he was a sad Deist, and his I soppose, detain me longer." I jokes and 'scoffs upon the subject kept firm to my purpose, for I knew were so incessant and strong, as to but too well, if I once let him wear reduce his friends to bring him to my brooch, my only chance of ever the sine quâ non of changing the seeing it again, would be in the shop subject, or losing their company. of some pawnbroker or Jew. But Tom's interview with Dr. Loquor to appease the irritation which my was singular. After some indifferent firmness of purpose had created, i conversation, the divine began with a rapidly assumed the suaviter in modo, “Sir, I suppose you are intimately I passed from grave to gay, from acquainted with the classics.” Tom's severe to lively. “My dear Tom voluble assurance never deserted Champerton," said I," you seem him. “ Oh yes, sir, intimately acto forget all your once great know- quainted with them, from Hic, hæc, ledge of the town; is it not your hoc, up to Juvenal, both inclusive." old saying, that a man must do every “ But, with the Greek classics?" thing in character. What, my dear “ Know them equally as well, sir ;" fellow, is the costume of an author and here the poor fellow spoke is he rich, he should have good truth.) What Greek authors do clothes, tumbled, dirty, and badly you most admire, sir?" “Oh, Ropat on—is he poor, he onght to have ger Ascham's Taxophilus-Hobbes's threadbare clothes, well brushed and de Corpore Politico-Aulus Gellius, pat on with great stiffness and pre- and all the other Greek classics." cision. Come, Tom, you look the “I have neglected my Greek sadly,"

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