Their
principles may be more relaxed on some points than ours, but I doubt
much whether a Frenchman would not be as much disgusted in England as an
Englishman could possibly be in France; we call them a profligate race
and condemn them in toto--something like Hudibras' John Bull--

"Compounds for sin he is inclined to
By damning those he has no mind to."

Their public walks and Theatres are less offensive to decency than ours.
Drunkenness is scarcely known; at first sight I should pronounce them an
idle, indolent people; the streets are almost always full; the gardens,
public walks, &c., swarm at all hours with saunterers. According to my
ideas a Frenchman's life must be wretched, for he does not seem at all
to enter into the charms of home--their houses are not calculated for
it; they huddle together in nooks and corners, and the male part
(judging from the multitudes I daily see) leave the women and children
to get through the day as they can.

Their coffee-houses are some of them quite extraordinary; most of them
are ornamented with Mirrors in abundance, but some shine with more
splendour. In the Palais Royal there is one called "Le Cafe de mille
Colonnes," which merits some description. It consists of three or four
rooms--the largest is almost one mass of plate-glass Mirrors, beautiful
clocks at each end, and magnificent chandeliers; behind a raised Table
of most superb structure, composed of slabs of marble and plate-glass,
sat a lady dressed in the richest manner, Diamonds on head and hand,
Lace, Muslin, &c. This is the Landlady; by her a little boy, about 4
years old, stood in charge of a drawer from whence the small change was
issued; this, if it happened to be copper, was delicately touched by the
fair hand, which was immediately washed in a glass of water as if
contaminated by the vulgar metal. She never spoke to the waiters, but
rung a golden bell; her inkstands, flower jars--in short, every article
on the table was of the same metal or of silver gilt. The tables for the
company were fine marble slabs; the room was from the reflection of all
the mirrors, as you may suppose, a perfect blaze of light, and yet
altogether the place looked dirty, from the undress and shabby coats of
the company. The French never dress for the evening unless going out to
parties, and they always look dirty and unlike gentlemen; the former is
not the case, in fact for they are constantly washing and bathing. An
hour or t