lived in the house opposite; and the two ladies'maids took the same opportunity of saying something about their mistresses-who were both outwanting them, and left the lodge, where only Antoine, Rosine, with the porter and his wife, now remained. After their departure, Antoine made several ineffectual attempts to create a little mirth : the Bichonnets were both dismally solemn; and Rosine, who began to fear she had been the occasion of a vast deal of mischief, was too ill at ease to enjoy herself any longer. Seeing the uselessness of his efforts, Antoine at length took leave of his hosts, without taking any particular notice of Rosine. When he was gone, M. Bichonnet turned towards the young milliner, and in a solemn tone began, "Mademoiselle, I feel it is a duty I owe to my fellow-men-—” But there was something in Rosine's mild appealing glance which seemed to reprove him: he paused, looked embarrassed, and observed in a gentler tone, "Well, well, I see you understand me; and so good-night." Rosine made no reply; but rising somewhat proudly, she retired, bitterly regretting having accepted the unlucky invitation, which had so disturbed the harmony of the evening. and clasped her hands in amazement. M. Miroiton | spoke volumes. The singer of comic songs, perdid not seem to know what to make of it; and M.ceiving that his services were no longer necessary, Bichonnet solemnly shook his head two or three departed, under pretence of seeing her home-she times, like one whom nothing can astonish. On perceiving Antoine's meaning, Rosine had colored deeply, and, by the timid, deprecating look she cast around, seemed to implore indulgence for her involuntary fault. But the singer of comic songs was staring point-blank at the wall; the two ladies'maids, who readily took their cue, seemed, by the glances they exchanged, to say, "What a shocking creature!" the looks of the Miroitons and the Bichonnets were equally stern and forbidding. Mademoiselle Miroiton was too desperately incensed to strive to hide her feelings; and though Mademoiselle Ursule partly triumphed in the mortification suffered by her younger and more attractive rival, her whole attitude showed the consciousness of injured dignity. Antoine alone looked kindly on her, and seemed to resent very much the manner in which the object of his choice was treated. The truth was, that, having perceived the drift of Madame Bichonnet's hints and allusions, he had felt piqued at being disposed of without his consent, and would have asked either of the ladies'-maids to be queen sooner than Mademoiselle Miroiton or Mademoiselle Ursule. Wishing to relieve Rosine from her embarrassment, he drank her health with studied politeness; but when he cried out, "Long live the queen!" no voice save M. Bichonnet's, who felt himself bound in honor to reply, echoed his. Poor Rosine grew pale, and laid down her untasted glass, whilst Antoine frowned on the silent and rigid Miroitons. Willing, however, to make an effort towards conciliation, the young shoemaker said with a smile, addressing the company, "Ladies and gentlemen, let me hope you will drink the health of your queen." The melancholy-looking young man who sang the comic songs immediately drank a glass of wine, first muttering something which might sound as an assent to or a protest against the toast, just as the parties were inclined; but no one else pledged Antoine. Mademoiselle Miroiton, indeed, eyed him with great contempt, yawned audibly, and looking at her mother, carelessly observed it was late enough to go home. To this Madame Miroiton assented, and rising immediately, helped her daughter to put on her cloak and bonnet-for Mademoiselle Miroiton had lately assumed this badge of distinction. It was in vain that Madame Bichonnet begged of them to stay a little longer; they smiled scornfully in reply to all her intreaties; whilst, heedless of his wife's indignant glance, M. Miroiton, determined to make the best of the little time left, hastily gulped down two or three glasses of champagne. Several days elapsed, during which nothing of importance seemingly occurred. Mademoiselle Ursule, who, since the evening of the Day of the Kings, had taken upon herself the office of observing whatever was going on in the street, nevertheless found the opportunity of making several curious and interesting remarks. Thus she noticed that, on the Friday which followed that memorable evening, Madame Bichonnet, notwithstanding the delicate state of her health, and the severe cold, actually left her lodge, and ventured to cross the street, in order to enter the abode of the Miroitons; that she remained there upwards of an hour; and that, when she left at last, her features wore the expression of one highly satisfied with the success of a momentous enterprise. Mademoiselle Ursule, moreover, perceived that a very unusual agitation prevailed in the porter's lodge: through some mysterious means she even learned that, during the course of the day, several secret conferences took place between Madame Bichonnet and the cook of the first-floor lodgers. M. Bichonnet himself seemed more solemn and dignified than ever. At last the important truth came out the Bichonnets were, on the next Sunday, to give a dinner, to which the Miroitons and Antoine Tourneur were invited. The mystery was, however, kept up until "Pray, do stay," urged Madame Bichonnet. the Saturday afternoon. It then happened that the "No, ma'am, thank you," dryly answered Made-portress let out an inkling of the fact to one of her moiselle Miroiton. "I can assure you, ma'am, we are not blind; we can see very well through your schemes, and those of other people." 66 66 'Yes, indeed we can," echoed her mother, with a scornful toss of the head; whilst even M. Miroiton, roused at last, and having now quite done with the champagne, repeated, Ay, sir, we can,' addressing M. Bichonnet; and with his wife on one side, and his daughter on the other, stalked out of the lodge, followed by his children, and closed the street door behind him with a thundering slam. neighbors, the consequence of which was, that, in less than five minutes, Mademoiselle Ursule entered the shoemaker's shop. "Sir," said she, addressing Antoine Tourneur, who stood behind the counter, "I am in want of a pair of shoes; will you take my measure?" The young man bowed, and very politely led the way to a little back parlor, where the staymaker took a seat, and in a very slow and stately manner gave him numberless recommendations concerning the size, color, and shape of her chaussure. Although When they were gone-she would have scorned Antoine heard her patiently to the end, Mademoito do it before-Mademoiselle Ursule rose; and selle Ursule seemed to mistake the nature of his though she only opened her lips to say "Good-feelings, for she observed, "I see you are in a night," the manner in which she uttered the words hurry, and I am sorry to detain you; but I shall "What!" interrupted Antoine, "do we not meet to-morrow evening?" "Where should we meet, sir?" asked the staymaker with much seeming surprise. "At Madame Bichonnet's of course," said the young man. Mademoiselle Ursule seemed to endeavor to recollect who the Bichonnets were; then, as though suddenly remembering, she loftily observed, "Oh, bless me, no! I shall spend to-morrow at home, sir, with poor dear Rosine." "And is not Mademoiselle Rosine to be there either?" eagerly asked Antoine, whose features expressed some disappointment. 66 "I beg your pardon," confusedly answered Antoine; but when Madame Bichonnet spoke of my meeting pleasant company to-morrow, I really thought she meant you.' 66 of impulse," &c.-which of course explained everything. The truth was, that although, as she herself truly asserted, she had never experienced the passion of love, she had, however-partly through Madame Bichonnet's hints-begun to think lately that her young neighbor, M. Tourneur, might prove an acceptable partner for life. His politeness she construed into a deeper feeling, veiled by profound respect; and although she felt no strong affection for him, yet there is no knowing to what pity might have led even her rather unsus ceptible heart, when the rivalry of Mademoiselle Miroiton awoke all her jealous feelings, and for the present stifled tenderer emotions. When Rosine entered the porter's lodge on the evening of the festival, she immediately looked "Really, Monsieur Tourneur," sharply observed upon her as on another rival, and found her artful, the spinster staymaker, "you must have an extraor-designing, &c. It is very likely this impression dinary opinion of myself and Rosine, to imagine might never have been effaced, if Mademoiselle Mithat, after the insults we have there endured, we roiton had not chanced to take precisely the same view could ever be induced to cross again the threshold of the subject; which Mademoiselle Ursule no sooner of Madame Bichonnet's lodge." saw, than she immediately perceived she must have been in the wrong. There could be no possible sympathy between her and her rival. When she learned the unworthy treatment the young milliner had met with from the porter's daughter, she felt highly indignant; and, as much from a feeling of justice, as from the wish of annoying Mademoiselle Miroiton, she took her into her employment. As she was naturally kind-hearted, the simplicity and gentleness of Rosine soon charmed her; and reflecting-for, from his conduct on the evening of the Kings' festival, she began to suspect she might have been deceived in Antoine's feelings-that she had lived too long single to resign herself to the many tribulations of wedded life, and that it would be highly imprudent in her to trust herself to the fickleness of man, she prudently resolved to discard Antoine altogether: a task which she found the easier, that her heart had never been in the least affected. But though she might be quite willing to give him up for herself, she was anything but desirous that Mademoiselle Miroiton should enjoy the triumph of surplanting her; indeed, as she had a shocking temper, she felt it quite a charity to prevent their union. In short, she resolved that it should not be her fault if her rival ever became Madame Tourneur. It is true Antoine did not seem very deeply smitten; but then there was no knowing what arts might be employed. Ah! if he only knew what a dear good creature Rosine was; and much prettier than Mademoiselle Miroiton too! There could be no doubt about that! Indeed, it was no difficult task; a shockingly vulgar creature! She herself, though not quite so fresh perhaps, might venture to compare. But even in her thoughts Mademoiselle Ursule was modest; she hated to speak of her personal advantages! Though somewhat soothed by the compliment, Mademoiselle Ursule smiled with unutterable scorn. "Sir," she loftily said, I will not speak of myself; I will speak of Rosine, whom Mademoiselle Miroiton has maliciously slandered, for what motive I know not"-Mademoiselle Ursule uttered the words in so significant a tone, as to leave no doubt but she was perfectly aware of it-" and whom, but for me, she would have deprived of the means of earning her bread." Antoine looked up with astonishment: the staymaker continued-" Rosine works for a great milliner, who resides in the house where Mademoiselle Miroiton's parents are porters. Since the evening of the Kings, this creature has so contrived her vile insinuations, that Rosine has been refused any more work. Seeing her pass by the day before yesterday all in tears, I called her in, and, as she can fortunately stitch very neatly, engaged her to work for me on the instant, so that she shall have work in spite of the whole Miroiton brood." "And has everything really happened as you relate it?" very gravely asked Antoine. 66 "Exactly so, sir," dryly replied Mademoiselle Ursule. 66 Pray do not forget my shoes. Goodday to you. I suppose," she carelessly added, you go to the Bichonnets to-morrow?" Antoine bowed in token of assent; and without seeming to notice the smile and glance of contempt which she cast upon him, he ceremoniously conducted Mademoiselle Ursule to the door. The staymaker went home, sorely puzzled to make out the shoemaker's real intentions, and quite disposed Such being her feelings on this subject, it is no to quarrel with him for taking no heed of poor matter of wonder that Mademoiselle Ursule should neglected Rosine, and dining with those odious be exceedingly cross, when, on the Sunday afterMiroitons and Bichonnets; but though in such ill- noon, she perceived the Miroitons proceeding to the humor, that her first act on entering the workroom Bichonnets; but when she actually saw Antoine was to scold Rosine for some imaginary fault, she taking the arm of Mademoiselle Miroiton, dressed had enough of self-control not to say a word about out in all her finery, and who, as she averred, cast Antoine Tourneur, or the step she had taken. Per- a glance of ironical triumph on her as she passed haps the reader will feel surprised to see the stay-by, her anger broke out in vehement denunciations maker now taking part for the young girl whom against the faithlessness of men in general, and she treated with such contempt on the evening of the Kings; but Mademoiselle Ursule did not pique herself in the least of acting upon logical principles she boasted that she had " 'strong feelings and lively sensibilities-that she was the creature Antoine Tourneur's want of spirit in particular. Rosine gently endeavored to say a few words for the culprit, but she was immediately silenced by the indignant staymaker. Several days elapsed, and notwithstanding her anxiety on this subject, Mademoiselle Ursule could not ascertain how the dinner of the Bichonnets had passed. The cook of the first-floor lodgers indeed informed her of the number of dishes served on the table, but further than this her knowledge did not extend, and the triumphant bearing of Mademoiselle Miroiton alone left her room to conjecture the issue of this important event. Towards the middle of the week, Antoine Tourneur brought home Mademoiselle Ursule's shoes himself. The staymaker received him very stiffly in the presence of Rosine, whose eyes seemed rivetted on her work, and sharply observed that the shoes did not fit. Contrary to her expectation perhaps, Antoine, far from disputing the fact, readily admitted it, and instantly offered to make her another pair. Mademoiselle Ursule, who was taken by surprise, and felt somewhat conscience-stricken-for the shoes were, in reality, an excellent fit-abruptly replied, that, as she wanted them for the following Sunday, she must keep them such as they were. "You can have the other pair by Saturday morning," calmly replied Antoine. Still Mademoiselle Ursule objected; but taking up the shoes, the young man showed her so plainly they did not fit, that she at length gave up the point, and consented to have the other pair made. This being decided, Antoine, who seemed in no great hurry to depart, entered into a very animated conversation with Mademoiselle Ursule, and after exchanging a few words with Rosine, at length took his leave. made for Mademoiselle Ursule were perhaps the We must now turn to M. and Madame Bichonnet, whom we have neglected too long. On the evening of the second Sunday which followed that on which they gave the dinner to the Miroitons, they were seated as usual in their lodge, Madame Bichonnet dozing in her arm-chair, and her husband looking on the fire, and thinking of nothing, or, as he more elegantly expressed it, "wrapped in profound meditation," when they were suddenly startled by a loud knock at the street-door. M. Bichonnet pulled the string placed near him for this purpose, the door opened, and Mademoiselle Ursule showed her thin and prim countenance at the other side of the glass casement which divided the lodge from the passage, and through means of which M. Bichonnet could reconnoitre every one who entered or left the house. "Is Mademoiselle Rosine at home?" she hastily inquired. "Bless me, what shall I do?" she continued in a tone of deep disappointment on being answered in the negative. "Well," said the stay-maker, now greatly mollified, "I must confess that, with all his faults, Monsieur Tourneur is really a nice young man. And you see, Rosine, what might happen, if I only wished for it." Rosine started, and looked somewhat surprised. Misunderstanding her feelings, Mademoiselle Ursule complacently continued, "Yes, my dear, did I not prefer leading a single life, I might be Madame Tourneur; but though I may give up this prospect, it is not in order to see that odious Mademoiselle Miroiton marry him; and really, child, I wonder you did not take more notice of him just now; who knows "Her betrothed!" echoed the astonished porters. what may happen?" She paused, and nodded very Yes," carelessly rejoined the stay-maker; "she significantly. But Rosine colored, and looked un-is to be married to Monsieur Antoine Tourneur, next usually grave. "I believe," politely answered M. Bichonnet, "Mademoiselle Rosine is gone to vespers." "Oh dear no," smilingly replied Mademoiselle Ursule; "she is gone to take a walk with her betrothed!" Sunday week. I wanted to see her, in order to On the following Saturday Antoine called with know whether she would have her wedding-dress the shoes, which were this time an admirable fit; of white tulle or muslin. But I daresay the muslin so at least Mademoiselle Ursule said, and Antoine will look best. But bless me, now I think of it, did not contradict her, although he made a longer she must be at home by this time, and I to stand stay than the last time, and was still more lively talking here! Good-night, Monsieur; good-night, and pleasant. But notwithstanding his indirect Madame Bichonnet." And Mademoiselle Ursule attempts to enter into a conversation with her, hastened away, with a look of the greatest conseRosine was so silent and reserved, in spite of Mad-quence, leaving the porters so astonished, that it emoiselle Ursule's encouraging nods and winks, was several minutes before they recovered from the that the stay-maker gave her a good scolding when surprise into which she had thrown them. the young man was gone-upbraiding her for her prudery, stiffness, and so forth. To her reproaches Rosine mildly but firmly answered, "I will not feign to misunderstand you; but, with the exception of a very simple mark of politeness, what reason has Monsieur Tourneur given me to think that he looks upon me otherwise than as a stranger? And he being rich, and I poor, what would his opinion be of me if I seemed to think differently?" "Very well, my dear," bitterly replied her friend; 66 see him married to Mademoiselle Miroiton, and live and die an old maid, if such is your choice." Rosine made no reply, and here the subject was dropped. Although the shoes which Antoine had "Poor Mademoiselle Miroiton!" exclaimed Madame Bichonnet, clasping her hands and turning up her eyes, "I thought to have drunk her health at her marriage-dinner before I died; but it is all over now!" "My dear," solemnly said M. Bichonnet, "this is what comes of mingling with people beneath you; this is -99 Nay, Bichonnet," mildly interrupted his wife, "Rosine is a sweet-tempered girl, and she will really do better for Antoine than Mademoiselle Miroiton, with her high spirit. I daresay if I were to give her something, just a bit of lace, on the occasion of her marriage, it would not be thrown away; and I should like to see Antoine happily settled before I die. I am afraid the ceremony might 66 Really I don't care about Mademoiselle Miroiton," sharply replied Madame Bichonnet; "her airs are insupportable; whereas I always liked dear little Rosine." "I believe, my dear," solemnly said M. Bichonnet, "that you are in the right. If they ask us, we will go to the dinner. To be friendly with them, is our greatest duty towards our fellow-men." to take place; and though too proud to question them, she used her eyes and ears without scruple. The next morning she learned that Antoine was to call on his landlord, who resided in the house where Rosine had formerly lived, and which he had lately bought from its original possessor. What could Antoine want with him? For several days she could learn nothing, but the truth at last became apparent. On a fine morning, a small cart-load of furniture, led by M. Bichonnet, and with Madame Bichonnet perched on the top of a very high bedstead, stopped at the door of the house opposite. As Madame Bichonnet nodded and smiled ver In short, it required very few arguments to con- benignantly to her, there could be no doubt about vince this worthy couple that Antoine Tourneur it. On learning that Antoine had recommended could not have made a better choice than in the the Bichonnets to his landlord, who was in want person of the modest little milliner, whom they of porters, Mademoiselle Ursule was at first highly henceforth treated with the most flattering distinc-indignant. Rosine, however, succeeded in pacifytion. On the next Sunday-week Rosine and An- ing her, by mentioning their unhappy state, and toine were married, to the triumph of Mademoiselle reminding her that if Madame Bichonnet had not Ursule, and the despair of Mademoiselle Miroiton. entertained a wholesome apprehension of sitting M. and Madame Bichonnet, who were amongst down to a table when there were thirteen persons the guests, were delighted with the whole affair; present, they would never have become acquainted. which, indeed, they asserted they had wished for As for Mademoiselle Miroiton, she entered into a and foreseen from the beginning. But though the desperate rage on perceiving her ancient enemies bride and bridegroom were polite to them, there once more in possession of their stronghold. She was not in their behavior the warmth and cordiali- even sought out every opportunity of injuring them; ty which marked their intercourse with Mademoi- but the porters had been taught by misfortune. selle Ursule. This difference became still more They still occasionally gave parties, but avoided marked after their marriage; for whereas the stay- notoriety; and condescended to behave more politemaker was almost constantly their guest, the porters received no further invitations. Madame Bichonnet now began to think poor Mademoiselle Miroiton had been sadly used, and she called on her for the purpose of condoling with her misfortune; but the young lady, who had a high spirit, shut the door in her face, and informed M. Bichonnet's landlord of the code of regulations he had set up in his house; the consequence of which was, that the porters were discharged, and left the neighborhood, "with the consciousness," as M. Bichonnet said, "of having vainly endeavored to serve his fellow-men." About a year after his marriage-need we say it proved a happy one?-Antoine met M. Bichonnet, in a remote neighborhood. He inquired after the health of Madame Bichonnet, and learned that it had greatly improved since they had opened a commercial establishment. Antoine looked surprised. "Yes," continued the former porter, with his usual dignity, "we sell fried potatoes on the Pont-Neuf." Antoine smiled, and wishing him every success, bade him farewell. Six months later, he met him again. He was more thin and dignified than ever. Antoine hoped his affairs were in a flourishing state. 66 "No, sir, they are not," loftily replied M. Bichonnet; the year has been dreadful for trade, and we have suffered like everybody. I suppose you have suffered too?" "No, indeed; I was never better off." "That is strange; all the tradespeople we know failed. But we have not, mind you. No, no sir; we have given up the potato concern, it is true, but our honor is unsullied." "And where are you now?" asked Antoine. "We have a porter's lodge in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. A poor place, sir. Ah! times are changed since we ate the King's cake with you in our comfortable lodge." Merely inquiring for his direction, Antoine took leave of M. Bichonnet. The same evening he held a long and private conference with his wife. Mademoiselle Ursule saw that something was going ly to their lodgers. Ill-disposed persons asserted, however, that the new landlord's presence alone prevented M. Bichonnet from carrying on matters with as high a hand as formerly. As for Madame Bichonnet, she was marvellously improved in health, and went about the house quite briskly, considering her delicate state-for she still spoke occasionally of her ailments, and indulged in dismal forebodings of not living beyond the spring; but, as Mademoiselle Ursule charitably observed, this was "through habit." Misfortune had not, however, soured Madame Bichonnet's placid temper. She spoke kindly of every one, and never said anything worse of Mademoiselle Miroiton than that, "Poor thing! so, notwithstanding every effort she made, she could not get married after all. It grieves me to the heart; but, indeed, I always thought her too high-spirited for matrimony!" We have dwelt somewhat lightly on the married life of Antoine and Rosine; but it is happy, and what more could be said? Mademoiselle Ursule, whose somewhat irritable temper they bear with the most praiseworthy patience, is still their best and most constant friend: they are thoroughly happy and prosperous, in the moral and worldly sense of the words. The Bichonnets are still in their old lodge; they have left off a good deal of their selfish worldliness -would we might say all!-and are quite cured of the temptation of match-making. For indeed, as M. Bichonnet loftily observes, it hardly becomes the dignity of a French porter to meddle in such affairs; and he very much doubts whether his duty to his fellow-men does not forbid it entirely. The last tidings we had of the Bichonnets declare that, on the 6th of January last, an enormous twelfth cake was cut up in their lodge; the persons present were, besides the hosts, Antoine Tourneur, with his wife and two children, Mademoiselle Ursule, and the melancholy young man who sings the comic songs, and who declared, that though they were not yet thirteen, there was no knowing what might happen in time, winking as he spoke, towards Madame Tourneur and the children; a joke which, nated the report. On the same evening M. Bichonobtained much success, and is not yet forgotten in net also confidentially informed one of his gueststhe neighborhood. The same young man is said which, it is not known-that Louis Philippe had to have paid great attention to Mademoiselle Ursule. only a very short time to remain on the throne. As she is resolved to remain single, this must be a He prudently refrained from saying how long, for calumny; and yet it may be true enough, for Mad- fear the police might seek to involve him in some emoiselle Ursule herself was the person who origi-political conspiracy. From Chambers' Journal. THE CHIFFONNIER OF PARIS.* veillance of a noisy, quarrelling, and decrepit shrew. But if we pass beyond this forbidding vestibule, and THE chiffonnier of Paris differs in national and penetrate into the private apartments of the merindividual qualities from the street-grubber of Lon-chant chiffonnier, we shall encounter the usual don, though earning his bread in a not very dissimi- pomp and appendages of civic luxury-the gilt and In one respect both are alike: their gorgeous pendule, the collection of showy pictures trade is easily begun, nor is it usually commenced board loaded with crystal and porcelain, and the and prints, the bronze bust of the emperor, the sidetill everything else has failed. When the victimized lar manner. If the wholesale dealers realize such gains, it is plain, considering the nature of their merchandise, that but little is left for the actual chiffonnier; in fact the most industrious among them seldom get more than three or four francs a day. These are that of the 26th July, 1777, perambulate the streets they who, in defiance of a regulation yet in force, during the night. The chiffonniers, like the moths, nocturnal; and these latter, commencing their pereare composed of two races-the diurnal, and the grinations at the moment when the street-sweepers retire to rest, have the best chance of some fortu Parisian finds himself without character and without grand pianoforte of madame or mademoiselle, the resources, he wants but half-a-dozen franks in his latter a well-educated and accomplished lass, the pocket to provide himself with a back basket and worthy heiress of no scanty hoard. We could an iron-pointed crotchet or rake, to begin the world mention the name of one of this fraternity, living at anew, and embark in an independent profession. present in the Rue Jean Tison, who gave at the Once equipped as a chiffonnier, he has no sooner marriage of each of his two daughters a dowry of familiarized himself to the ignominy of this wretch-sixty thousand francs. ed trade, than, having adopted it by necessity, he continues it by inclination. He finds a charm and a recompense in his nomadic existence, in his endless wanderings, in his vagabond independence, and indulges a profound contempt for the slaves who shut themselves up from morning to night in a workshop or behind a counter. Let them, mere machines of others, regulate the employment of time by the hands of the dial; he, the chiffonnier, the philosopher, works when it pleases him, and rests when he chooses, without thought for the night or care for the morrow. If the east wind freezes him, he warms his blood with a dram; if the heat incommodes him, he doffs his harness and his tattered frock, stretches himself in the shade, and goes to sleep. Is he hungry-he can soon earn a few sous, and feasts, like Lucullus, upon a crusty loaf and sour cheese. Is he sick-what matter? "The hospital," says he, "was not invented for dogs." The victim of every privation, the chiffonnier is proud, because he believes himself free. He treats with haughtiness even the rag-merchant himself, to whom he carries the harvest of the day, and from whom he is in the habit of receiving from time to time, a slender advance upon that of the morrow. He gives himself the airs of a patron; and declares that if the dealer does him less than justice, he will transfer his commodities to a rival. His pride is visible through the multiplied fissures of his tattered nate discovery. They adopt certain favorite quarters, generally giving the preference to the Fau bourg Saint Germain, the Chaussée d'Antin, the dences of the most opulent classes. Constantly atFaubourg Saint Honoré abounding in noble resitending the same circuit they become known to the household servants, and particularly the cooks, from whom they receive occasional contributions from the larder, engaging in return to restore any their researches among the offal of the establishlost article of value which they may discover in ment. Once established and recognized in a certain beat, they begin to derive an income from other sources than their professed occupation. Lazy and sleepy subjects, whom fortune has condemned to rise early in the morning, fee them to break their slumbers. We have the honor to know a chiffonnier vieve to the Assomption to knock at the doors of a who goes every morning from Mount Sainte GeneThe rag-merchant is the able alchemist who trans-commission brings him in thirty centimes, each grocer, a confectioner, and a wine-seller. mutes into gold the offal and refuse of the streets; and with the proceeds of rejected rags and putrefy-party paying him ten (or one penny) per day; an ing bones, speculates in the rise and fall of stock. amount which this thrifty economist informs us He receives the chiffonniers in a fetid and filthy defrays three fourths of his expenses for lodging. shed, and his fashionable friends in an elegant sa- debarred from social pleasures. He will be found The day practitioner does not consider himself loon. His place of business is hideous beyond at the barriers, on Sundays and holidays, dancing description, incumbered with the most disgusting and drinking with his wife; and he patronizes the impurities, masses of the foulest tatters, rotten drama when the piece is to his mind-tender, touchplanks, and decaying anatomies that infect the air, ing, sentimental and interesting; such as Lazare le the whole brought thither by beings of an aspect Pâtre, Grace de Dieu, or Paul et Virginie, or any scarcely human, and weighed in balances of a for- other of the class, where, above all other recommidable and grotesque appearance, under the surmendations, the traitor is punished in the last scene. vesture. The principal particulars in this paper are gathered from an article on the same subject in a French work, purporting to describe the humbler trades of Paris. This Whatever his prosperity, the chiffonnier has never any furniture of his own; he sleeps in furnished lodgings, at the settled price of twenty cen |