Page:Once a Week Volume V.djvu/526

 . 12, 1861.] account, shirks his best friends because they appear in the streets of Paris in the costumes of cab-drivers. The ladies are offenders of a deeper dye; they mount battered round hats, and save up their old dresses for the sake of appearing perfect drabs in the polite city of Paris. Our proud G. U., who we should surmise to be one of those resident Britons who have become more French than the Parisians, is deeply hurt at our bad habits, and is evidently very much ashamed of his touring fellow-countrymen, and dreadfully afraid of what the satirical Parisians will think of them. Having myself returned from a month’s holiday on the Continent, a week of which was spent in Paris, I was not a little astonished at the frightful pelting which I, in common with the rabble rout of Englishmen, have received at the hands of G. U. Having a desire for a few weeks climbing, I took pattern by the great Napier, and thought that when I had reduced my impedimenta to a piece of soap, a towel, and two flannel shirts, I had done a clever thing. In this light marching order I had the audacity to return home by way of Paris; had I had the honour of G. U.’s acquaintanceship, possibly I might have been received by courteous cut direct; but as I only know an inferior sort of people, who don’t judge friends by their clothes, I happily escaped that infliction. I must candidly confess that my own impressions of my fellow-countrymen abroad did not by any means tally with those of G. U., who is so very sensitive for the honour of his fellow-subjects. When I strolled up the Champs Elysées, if amid the crowd of natives in lacquered boots, dress coats, and the other etcetera appertaining to the full mufti in which Parisians will appear abroad before dinner, if, I say, I observed a particularly manly-looking fellow in a light lounging-coat and lace-up boots, I was pretty sure to find, on looking into his honest face, that he was a young Englishman. If a brighter young Hebe than usual passed by, in “maiden meditation fancy free,” it was sure to be a dear young English girl. Amid the arid faces of the Parisian fair, to my eye the bright cheek of our English rose was as the waters of some oasis to the traveller after the dreary desert. They might have had round hats, but what of that? I am quite sure they were not “battered,” and also certain that they crowned the face with more grace than the best bonnet of Paris would have done. It is pretty well conceded that the young Englishman is the best dressed man in the world (a fact which G. U. evidently does not know); but I mean to assert, what will doubtless be contested, that the

