a! Poto-beer! All right--Goddam!

--Or, I will conduct myself as the free-born American--the gay Brother
Jonathan! I will whittle me a stick. I will whistle to myself "Yankee
Doodle," and forget my passion in excessive expectoration.

--Hoho!--wake snakes and walk chalks.

The world is divided into two great divisions,--Paris and the
provinces. There is but one Paris. There are several provinces, among
which may be numbered England, America, Russia, and Italy.

N N. was a Parisian.

But N N. did not live in Paris. Drop a Parisian in the provinces, and
you drop a part of Paris with him. Drop him in Senegambia, and in
three days he will give you an omelette soufflee, or a pate de foie
gras, served by the neatest of Senegambian filles, whom he will call
Mademoiselle. In three weeks he will give you an opera.

N N. was not dropped in Senegambia, but in San Francisco,--quite as
awkward.

They find gold in San Francisco, but they don't understand gilding.

N N. existed three years in this place. He became bald on the top of
his head, as all Parisians do. Look down from your box at the Opera
Comique, Mademoiselle, and count the bald crowns of the fast young men
in the pit. Ah--you tremble! They show where the arrows of love have
struck and glanced off.

N N. was also near-sighted, as all Parisians finally become. This is a
gallant provision of Nature to spare them the mortification of
observing that their lady friends grow old. After a certain age every
woman is handsome to a Parisian.

One day, N N. was walking down Washington street. Suddenly he stopped.

He was standing before the door of a mantuamaker. Beside the counter,
at the farther extremity of the shop, stood a young and elegantly
formed woman. Her face was turned from N N. He entered. With a
plausible excuse, and seeming indifference, he gracefully opened
conversation with the mantuamaker as only a Parisian can. But he had to
deal with a Parisian. His attempts to view the features of the fair
stranger by the counter were deftly combated by the shop-woman. He was
obliged to retire.

N N. went home and lost his appetite. He was haunted by the elegant
basque and graceful shoulders of the fair unknown, during the whole
night.

The next day he sauntered by the mantuamaker. Ah! Heavens! A thrill
ran through his frame, and his fingers tingled with a delicious
electricity. The fair inconnue was there! He raised his hat
gracefully