Q. What is the Boulevard?
A. A sort of avenue formed by

trees.

Q. What is its aspect?

speaking French with respect to hats in the noble passage where he says:

tion is uncommonly fine) presents an instance in which the rural and architectural are happily blended. Q. How is the pavement formed? A. Of asphalte materials. Q. How is its effect impaired ? A. By circular patches of earth. Q. What imparts to the Boulevards their greatest charms?

A. Their curvatures.

hats

be found to be bad. A Frenchman seems to consider his chapeau' as part of himself. He would just as soon be seen with an unwashed face as with a shabby hat. It is to him what a bonnet is to a lady. It is true the Parisian gentlemen do not talk of their new hats as ladies do about their new bonnets; but they are not on that account the less delighted when they see a beautiful chapeau. A Frenchman

A. The Palais Royale.

This is a curious fact; and the

and observation, will be useful to our young countrymen abroad, who can

Q. Is it a more severe affliction to the Frenchman to lose the Palais Royale, than to lose his dear friend, wife, mother, or child?

A. Yes, it is.

Q. Is this an exaggeration ? A. Not in the least to those who know Paris, &c., &c.

And then the question comes, How did Jim, not speaking a word of French, find out these things? He says he took a laquais-de-place, at three francs the half-day, who probably told him these stories. But I have too high an opinion of Jim's economy to suppose he would hire one of these fellows for many days together; and, indeed, he very soon appears to have got a smattering of the language, and to push on for himself. Thus, he used to go to a barber's, and he calls him "Monsieur Tonsor." This he never could have done had he not known FrenchMonsieur being French for Mister, and Tonsor meaning Barber in the

narrative by kicking the first Frenchman they meet, and sitting on the hat of the second. They will see, then, if Monsieur's conduct will bear out Jim's assertion. A military man (of whom there are plenty) would be a good subject to select for the first experiment. But the point which I wish to mark here is the progress he has evidently made in the language; on two occasions, and in the same sentence, he playfully uses the foreign word "chapeau" a hat-ay, and spells it right too, which could hardly be expected of him in so short a time.

A laughable quid pro quo, if he will pardon me the term, recurred to him in a conversation with one of the men of distinction to whom he had letters of introduction-one of the most rising barristers in France. I shrewdly suspect Monsieur Charles Ledru to be the man of distinction in question.

He and Jim fell to talking naturally about lords and judges. "What's the opinion of Lord - -?" said the

French barrister expressed his idea that his lordship was insane.

"You don't mean that!" said the other, falling back in his seat, and looking unutterably amazed. "Thrown himself into the Seine!" "Oh no! I only said that some people thought him insane."

Ah! in-sane, not in the Seine. I mistook what you said. Ah! I see now."

Of course, nobody knew who was the noble and learned lord who gave rise to this play upon words.

To do him justice, Jim very seldom indulges in them. But when he docs, the dry rogue! he takes care to fix upon a good one. I have laughed at the above heartily for the last twenty years, and can fancy how Ledru and Grant must have enjoyed it as they sat together in the parlor discussing the character of Lord Br. But mum! the word was very nearly

out.

Jim had an interview with Jules Janin, which does not appear to have been very satisfactory; for though Janin writes English books, he does not understand a word of the language. Nor was our James much more skilled in the parley Fransy, as they say. Janin did not ask him to dinner, nor probably did Ledru; for about the hospitality of the French he speaks in a very sad and desponding tone.

Dinner-parties are comparatively rare among the aristocracy of France. When they invite their friends they ask them to a soirée, when the refreshments consist of tea and coffee, with a little wine and cake. Wine is much cheaper in France," adds Jim, who does not conceal his disappointment, and has probably been asked to some soirée, where, after going to the expense of a cab, a fresh shirt-collar, and a pair of white Berlin gloves, he has been fobbed off with a glass of sour wine and water, and a biscuit. And yet, in spite of this disappointment, I think there is nothing I would more

66

What he calls the table d'hôtes (for his expressions are invariably happy) seem to have pleased him a good deal. None but aristocracy, he says, ever dream of "putting up" in Meurice's," from which choice place the honest fellow accordingly kept away. "No man must think of dining there," he says, sadly, "under from fifteen to twenty francs," and he does not think the average price of a bed can be less than eight or ten francs per night. But it is not so, dear Jim; and out of respect to a worthy landlord whom you have injured, you should alter this passage in your second edition. You might have gone with perfect safety and asked the question of the waiter. Snobs are admitted at Meurice's as well as gentlemen. Why, then, should James Grant be denied admittance to the "most famous of the Parisian establishments"?

About the two-franc dinners of which the French aristocracy partake, our dear friend is much better informed. "I met with no instance," says he, "in which the charge exceeded two francs and a half, including a pint, or half a bottle, of vin ordinaire. There are, indeed, some respectable houses where the charge is as low as a franc and a half. The most common price, however, is two francs ; and for this sum (twenty pence of our money), with an additional three halfpence or twopence, in the shape of a gratuity to the waiter, you can have a dinner which never fails to suit the most dainty palate." He then describes the bill of fare, and says, "would the most passionate admirer of a good dinner desire more?" Jim says a great amount of business is done in these houses, and used to take his dinner in a "very celebrated one, up three pair of stairs in the Palais Roy

al." Bless him once more, I say; bless him! He is a dainty dog, fond of good victuals and fine things. The aristocracy in Paris seem to be shabby fellows; he never saw a carpet in any house except an English one, and thought with pride of Kidderminster, the luxurious rogue!

He does not appear to have seen "Chateaubriand," but says he is a member of the Chamber of Deputies, a republican in principles, and that he goes weekly to weep over the tomb of Armand Carrel. A "priest" by the name of Ginode is also mentioned as a priest of republican principles, which are, moreover, those of Jim. The first thing he remarks about the Chamber of Deputies (for the fellow goes everywhere) is that THE SEATS are incomparably superior to those in our House of Commons. These seats bear ample proofs that the penknives of honorable members are not idle, for they are covered with all sorts of hieroglyphics, the works of the French legislators.

As Jim contemplated these, "school-boy recollections," he affectingly says, rushed into his mind, and his thoughts reverted, with a rapidity surpassing that which light travels, to a period full thirty years ago, when he, Jim, used to see so many of his companions soundly thrashed by their "teacher for doing precisely similar work.”

How different the scene is now! Then Jim was a boy, getting probably, with other boys at Eton, where he was brought up, some cuts from the usher across his own organ, which it is needless to name. Now he is a man, honored, wise, and wealthy. He has improved his mind by study in Long Acre, and afterwards abroad by foreign travel. He has taken his place with the learned of the land. People look up to him as their instructor and friend. Only this minute comes up to me a venerable gentleman in a broad-brimmed hat, who says, "Reading Mr. Grant's aew work, Fitz-Boodle? An able

man, sir, though I think he has somewhat fallen off."

Fallen off! O jimini (as the poet observes)! fallen off? No, Jim is better than ever. He grows more rich the more he publishes. His ideas are not like those of some feeble writers who give birth to an idea and die. No, Jim is always ready, always abundant; no subject will ever find him at a loss, no plummet will ever sound the depth of his tremendous dulness. Why is he mere private man still? Why is he not in the House of Commons, and making senates shout with his eloquence? I am sure that he would speak to perfection. I am sure that worthy people in the country would rally round him. I have a very strong notion indeed that he is the "coming man for whom we are on the lookout. Other people may doubt and be perplexed, but, depend upon it, he never feels a difficulty. Jim has achieved a fortune and fame as, perhaps, no man ever achieved it. He has published five and twenty volumes of such a quality as perhaps the whole world cannot elsewhere produce; and his success is to the world and himself a credit. It shows that a good writer need not despair now-a-days. Burns died a beggar, for instance, and Jim Grant will probably have a good round sum at his lamented demise. And so he should with such a public as ours. So alive to genius, so wise a critic of good writing, so able an appreciator of fine wit, Jim is worthy of the public and the public of him. May they long both flourish, each honoring the other!

Sometimes popular writers find themselves outstripped of a sudden by younger rivals, and deserted in their old age. I do not think in Jim's case this is likely, or even possible. I do not think the world can produce a greater than Jim. Honor to him and his patron! He has already written five and twenty volumes, let us hope and pray for scores more. have requested Mr. Titmarsh, the

I

I think about my own exceedingly select class of readers with a rueful modesty, when I recollect how much more lucky other authors are. Here, for instance, I say to myself, looking upon the neat, trim, tight, little, handsome book, signed by Joseph Bregion and Anne Miller, "Here is a book whereof the public will infallibly purchase thousands. Maidens and matrons will read and understand it. Smith will buy it and present it to his lady; Snooks will fully enter into the merit of it, and recommend its perusal to his housekeeper. Nor will it be merely enjoyed by these worthy humdrum people, but men of learning and genius will find subject of interest and delectation in it. I dare say it will find a place in bishops' libraries, or on the bookshelves of men of science, or on the table of poets and painters; for it is suited to the dullest and highest intelligence." And where is the fool or the man of genius that is insensible to the charms of a good dinner? I myself have been so much amused and instructed by the reading of "The Practical Cook," that I have purchased, out of my own pocket, several copies for distribution among my friends. Everybody can understand it, and get benefit by it. You, not the least among the number, my reverend and excellent friend; for though your mornings are passed in the study of the heathen classics, or over your favorite tomes of patriotic lorethough of forenoons you as tonish lecture-rooms with your learning, and choose to awe delighted undergraduates, yet I know that an hour comes daily when the sage feels that he is a man; when the reverend expounder of Austin and Chrysostom forsakes his study-table for another common room, whereon, by the cheerful glimmer of wax-tapers, your eye rests complacently upon crystal flasks, manteling with the red juices of France and Portugal, and glitter

Do you remember the week I once passed at Saint Boniface College, honored to be your guest and that of the society? I have dined in many countries of Europe and Asia since then-I have feasted with aldermen, and made one at Soyer's housedinners I have caten the produce of Borel's larder, and drunk Clos Vingeot at the Trois Frères - I have discussed the wine of Capri, and know the difference of the flavor of the oysters of Poldoodie and the Lucrine Lake-I have examined bouillabaisse at Marseilles and pilaff at Constantinople - I have consorted with epicures of all ages and nations, but I never saw men who relished a dinner better than the learned fellows of Saint Boniface! How Gaster will relish this book! I thought to myself a hundred times as I revelled over the pages of Anne Miller and Joseph Bregion.

I do not believe, however, that those personages, namely, Bregion, "formerly cook to Prince Rausmonski (I knew his highness intimately), to Prince Nicholas Esterhazy, the Russian ambassador at Paris, &c., and Anne Miller, cook in several English families of distinction," are the real authors of this excellent and truly "Practical Cook." A distinguished amateur of cookery and almost every other science, a man whose erudition is as varied and almost as profound as your own, a practical philosopher, who has visited every capital in Europe, their victuals noted and their wines surveyed, is, I have reason to think, the real genius under whose presiding influence Anne and Joseph have labored. For instance, of the Portuguese and Spanish dishes here described, the invaluable collection of Turkish and Indian receipts, the Sicilian and Hungarian receipts, it is not probable that Joseph or Anne should have had much personal experience;