Paris herself again in 1878-9 . and then he slid offinto the recital of his catalogue of eatables. It was not he, butthe equally courteous Eugene, the head-waiter, who, when I wasbidding him farewell last November, opined that I was going toget some money out of my mines de houille la-bas, and that Ishould speedily return to Paris to spend it. It is a firm article ofbelief among the Parisian shop and restaurant keeping class thatno foreigner ever thinks of leaving Paris until he is brought downto his last hundred-franc note. But who on earth could have toldEugene, or how came that obliging ser
Paris herself again in 1878-9 . and then he slid offinto the recital of his catalogue of eatables. It was not he, butthe equally courteous Eugene, the head-waiter, who, when I wasbidding him farewell last November, opined that I was going toget some money out of my mines de houille la-bas, and that Ishould speedily return to Paris to spend it. It is a firm article ofbelief among the Parisian shop and restaurant keeping class thatno foreigner ever thinks of leaving Paris until he is brought downto his last hundred-franc note. But who on earth could have toldEugene, or how came that obliging servitor to think, that I was acoal-owner la-has ? Ld-bas may mean Durham or Dalmatia, Pon-typridd or Pennsylvania. It is the There of the is the Frenchmans Ewigkeit. PALM SUNDAY ON THE BOULEVARDS. 269 There were races yesterday in the Bois de Boulogne. I glancedat the prophesied list of winnersâthe Gagnants de Bobert Mil-tonâin the Figaro, but M. Bobert Miltons straight tips failed to ;. ,///,/. liMlMl , ,i(I-. interest me. A horse-race in France is, as a rule, a depressing-spectacle. I have never returned from one save in a most dejectedstate ; and even Chantillyâon a wet Sundayâhas moved me well-nigh to tears. There was a bitter wind blowing yesterday; the 270 PARIS HERSELF AGAIN. rain came down from half-hour to half-hour in brief but uncomfort-able splurges; and altogether I did not see my way towards be-coming, even for a portion of the afternoon, a patron of the it occurred to me that I would visit the Louvre. I averted myeyesâwith a definite intent and purpose in so doingâas, drivingdown the Rue de Rivoli, the blackened ruined screen of theTuileries loomed in view. A rivederla ! But in the great courtof the Carrousel, and in the Square du Louvre, with its gilt rail-ings and almost preternaturally verdant turf, all looked spick-and-span new, bright, handsome, and coquettish. A melodious voiceseemed to be making some such proclamation as this : Lad
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