r Squarers than one
sees in Regent Street. The gentlemen wear plaited trowsers and
broad-brimmed hats, and turn-down collars; women of the lower class walk
about in caps; here and there is a blouse, and that is pretty nearly all
the difference to be seen. To what end should we describe an ordinary
Frenchman? Have we not seen him?--have we not noted him? What child is
ignorant of his unobtrusive costume, his pantaloons full round his hips
and covering all his boots, his pockets half way down his leg, his
tight-waisted coat, his dubious linen, his not dubious hands and face,
his modest gait and diffident manner? Know we not his hair grotesquely
short or filthily long, his stubbly moustache and beard, or imperial, or
republican; his high cheekbones, his eyebrows running up on each side;
his vehement discourse, his grimaces, his shrugs, his lively gestures?
Mark those three _flaneurs_! They are talking each as loud as he can on
a different topic, not listening or listened to, yet perfectly happy and
content. Would any one but a Frenchman call such monkey-jabber
conversation--_and like it_?

They slacken their talk a little, to exhibit the national politeness. A
lady, young, charming, and dressed to perfection, though a little more
sumptuously than is usual with us for the promenade on foot, must
descend into the kennel (a little river) if these Messieurs will not
give place. Ah, bah! do not derange yourselves. JULES puts his head
under her bonnet, and perfumes her exquisite coiffure with tobacco
smoke. ADOLPHE and HORACE exchange _bon mots_ with a coarse laugh, and
the poor lady makes her escape as she may. Oh, French politeness! truly
thou art a thing of the past. The modern Gaul has still the trick of
taking off his hat; but the spirit of courtesy is evaporated, leaving
nothing but dregs behind.

Your correspondent leaves this last sentence as he wrote it in the heat
of indignation (if his temper is capable of heat) at what _could not_
have happened in England. Mindful, however, of the danger of drawing
general conclusions from particular premises, he wishes to limit his
censure to French officials and French Boulevard _flaneurs_, the only
persons that have as yet shown themselves to deserve it, and who may be
unfavourable specimens of their countrymen. Certainly he has met with an
obliging good humour in waiters and shop-keepers, that contrasts
favourably with the reserved and almost sullen air of the same classes
in E