1623.J 
word, every sense, every idiom, is by 
tule prescriptive; hence every one of 
a grammatical education, for a com- 
mon object, uses the same words and 
tense, makes in every respect the same 
speech; and, when people talk alike, 
to act alike seems an easy result. 
With us a man opens his mouth to 
speak, and the first sound of his voice 
tells what he is: in France one may 
make no such discovery; personal 
distinction is almost precluded, and 
the most distant classes of society 
often sit most politely together. Thus 
the common sharper successfully ob- 
tains admission into company, and thus 
a gentleman came to pay for a silver 
fork in his bill. Very’s chef,—he is a 
fat, round-faced, good-humoured, man, 
and less clamorous than his fellows 
generally are,—had missed, occasion- 
ally, one of those very convenient 
articles to a house in the bonne-bouche 
way, with three silver prongs to it, in 
a certain room; a sharp inspection was 
soon set on every visitor, and, before 
the week ended, an occasional cus- 
tomer was observed to pocket his fork. 
Not a word was said, nor a hint given; 
but, when the bill was desired, the 
dast item ran thus, ‘‘To a fork, the 
pattern of which Monsieur honoured 
Very by patronising, thirty francs.” 
The money was paid, in course, and in 
silence; but the chef says he was a 
little chagrined, because the gentle- 
aman had never called to say whether 
the pattern pleased. 
A few doors lower, and on the same 
side, is the Trois Freres, an excellent 
house, distinguished for the superiority 
of its mixed dishes, and the delicacy 
ef its wild fowl; it is the only place in 
Paris where one may drink a glass of 
port. QOnthe Bouleyard des Italiens 
are several establishments, very well 
attended, and very good, though not 
of such epicurean note. The oldest 
house of the kind, and once the fa- 
-yourite resort of the celebrated Ches- 
terficld, I myst except—the Café An- 
gilais ; as equal to any other in charge, 
yet inferior to many in cookery, and 
‘certainly with an indifferent cellar. 
At Hardy's, on the opposite side, the 
white wines are of very gentle flavour. 
It is some distance, but, to a lover of 
fish, well worth the walk, to the Rocher 
de Concalles, which lies a little to the 
left of the Boulevard St. Antoine, 
which is so called from a rock of that 
name on the coast, and which is said 
Ao be the property of the establissement, 
An Irishnan’s Notes on Paris, No. V. ~ 
27 
and whence daily arrives.a fresh sup~- 
ply of marine dainties. The cabinets 
for private parties are here most nume- 
rous, are very wellattended, and rather 
agreeable. From what is here told, it 
is evidently particularly distinguished 
for fish; but a better sample of the 
French kitchen I do not know than 
the one this house affords. French 
cookery, like French wine, is mild and 
agreeable; at our tables, every thing 
esteemed good is streng and rich, 
almost spirituously so: the art of our 
neighbours, though not weaker, is 
nicer. 
Beauvilliers, in the Rue de Riche- 
lieu, is no indifferent house; but it is 
the Beauvilliers no longer. It is true 
you have the name, charming dishes, 
the largest suite of rooms in Paris,—all 
brilliancy and glass; yet the master’s 
hand is cold. His bedy lies with 
great dignity among the other worthics 
of the age, who, for high talent of the 
head and hand, have been honoured 
with the general voice by a sleeping- 
place in the Cemetery of Pere la 
Chaise. This again is an instance 
which proves the nation, and at a 
view comprehends the people. The 
first cook of his day fills the haunts of 
fame, where Abelard and his faithful 
Eloisa sacredly repose in Gothic 
pomp: by the hero who lies crossed in 
the arms of victory, near the classical 
shade of Delille, is honourably interred 
the late celebrated forcer of meats 
and caterer of tastes—Beauvilliers. 
Encircled by the same walls, are the 
remains of the great Tortoni, now 
cold as any of the ices that made his 
fortune; where, for one who notices 
the grave of Agasse, the once impor- 
tant editor of the variable Monitteur, 
ten tongues bless the memory of 
Viguer, who accommodated the gentle 
beauties of Paris with the finest baths 
in Eurgpe,—at least, so says fashion. 
Who, then, shall deny that in France 
the paths to fame are not more level- 
ed, and the immortality ef meritorious 
labour greater and more impartial, 
than one may elsewhere find? 
P. Senacuy. 
—e 
To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. 
SIR, 
R, Gitpertson states, that he 
came to our manufactory, and 
saw Mr. Louden’s patent apparatus 
for the purpose of destroying the efilu- 
via arising from the melting of tallow ; 
and that the eflluvyia was merely car- 
ried 
