away and be a trest,” for this perpetual din confuses, and overpowers me!

There are many English here; and almost all are full of complaints of the extravagance of the charges, badness of the dinners, and total want of comfort. Those accustomed to even a lavish expenditure at home, are disposed to be parsi. monious abroad; and murmur at charges in Paris, that in London would be esteemed very reasonable. But the truth is, we English are prone to murmur; it is the safety-valve of our bilious temperament: and the moment we are out of England, and are deprived of our never-failing topic for complaint, our climate, we vent our national discontent on other subjects.

2nd.—There is something peculiarly light, and agreeable, in the air here, and the animals, as well as the people, seem influenced by it. The trees in the Champs Elysées, and Tuileries, have assumed their rich autumnal hues; and the ladies have added to their summer costume, a warm shawl, thrown over the shoulders with a grace peculiar to Parisians. The animation of their countenances, elegance of their tournures, and smallness of their feet, are remarkable; and, joined to a certain air dégagé, equally free from boldness, as from awkwardness, render them extremely attractive. It strikes me, that French women are more formed to be admired, than loved ; and English women, vice versa. The constitutional gaiety and animation of the former, with their quickness at repartee, and love of society, while it serves to render them very agreeable, is not conducive to the creation of the soft, and


senti. ment of love: hence, the tender passion is more talked of, than felt, in France, and intrigues of gallantry are more frequent, than attachments founded on strong affection. Society, is the paramount object of life, with a fine lady in France. For this, she dresses, thinks, talks, and arranges her house, all of which she does à merveille ; and no where, consequently, is society better understood, or more agreeable. A perfect ease, and yet a scrupulous decorum, a vivacity that never passes the limits of good breeding, and a knowledge that never degenerates into pedantry, characterise it; as all must admit, who have had opportunities of judging.

An acquaintance of mine, once expressed his opinion of French ladies by saying, “They are pretty, lively, and amusing, but are too clever; and seem too certain of their own attractions to catch hearts, though they win admiration.”

The politeness for which Frenchmen are proverbial, is much less flattering to individual vanity, than is the less ostentatious civility of Englishmen. The former is so general in his attentions, that he makes one feel, that the person to whom he is addressing them, is only receiving what would have been equally offered to any other lady by whom he might chance to have been placed; whereas, an Englishman, is either silent, or reserved, unless animated by a contact with some person who has pleased him : consequently, his compliments have a point, and, if I may use the expression, an individuality, that convince her, to whom they are addressed, that they could not have been applied to another. A Frenchman never forgets that he is talking to one of a sex for which he professes a general veneration; the Englishman forgets the whole sex in the individual that interests him.

Accomplishments, such as music, and dancing, considered to be peculiar to women in England, are as generally cultivated by males as by females, in France. This habit, I think, though I know many will disagree with me, is injurious in its effects; because it assimilates the two sexes, which ought ever to retain their peculiar and distinct attributes. The more masculine a man's pursuits and amusements are, the more highly will he be disposed to estimate feminine accomplishments, in which he can have no rivalry; and which, by their novelty, may tend to form a delightful recreation for his leisure hours. The manly occupations which call him from home, render him more susceptible of the charm of female society when he returns to it; hence I would encourage a system that tended to make women as feminine, without being effeminate, as possible ; and men as masculine, without being coarse.

But, mercy on me! here am I systematizing, in the midst of noises, that give one an idea of Noah's ark; instead of enjoying the bright sunshine that is so tempting. Allons ! for a promenade en voiture, in the Champs Elysées, and after that, a pied in the Tuileries gardens.

3rd. La cuisine française has greatly degenerated even within my memory. The judges of the culinary art of l'ancien régime, declare that the parvenue noblesse of Napoleon's creation destroyed it, by bringing into vogue the savory, but coarse plats of their humbler days; but I think the influx of strangers, in 1814, did more to deteriorate it. Those who would form a just notion of la cuisine française in its pristine glory, must acquire a knowledge of it in the salles-d-manger of some of the vieille cour in the Faubourg St. Germain; or in a few of the houses of our own nobility in London, who have preserved some chef de cuisine, whose savoir has not been corrupted or palate impaired, by the impurities of the modern French school. In such houses, they will find a preponderance of white over brown sauces ; onions will be rendered innoxious by being stewed in loaf sugar ; and fish, fowl, and flesh will be refined by a process that, while expelling their grossness, leaves all the nutritious quality. A perfect French dinner is like the conversation of a very clever and highly educated man—enough of the raciness of the inherent natural quality remains to gratify the taste, but rendered more attractive by the manner in which it is presented. An old nobleman used to say that

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