216 AN OCTOBER ABROAD. 



that would crack like a rifle, and, as it passed along, 

 all the lesser whips, all the amateur snappers, would 

 strike up with a jealous and envious emulation, mak- 

 ing every foot-passenger wink, and one (myself) at 

 least almost to shade his eyes from the imaginary 

 missiles. 



I record this fact because it " points a moral and 

 adorns a tail." The French always give this extra 

 touch. Everything has its silk snapper. Are not 

 the literary whips of Paris famous for their rhetor- 

 ical tips and the sting there is in them? What 

 French writer ever goaded his adversary with the 

 belly of his lash, like the Germans and English, when 

 he could blister him with its silken end, and the per- 

 cussion of wit he heard at every stroke ? 



In the shops, and windows, and public halls, etc., 

 this passion takes the form of mirrors, mirrors 

 mirrors everywhere, on the walls, in the panels, in 

 the cases, on the pillars, extending, multiplying, open- 

 ing up vistas this way and that, and converting the 

 smallest shop, with a solitary girl and a solitary cus- 

 tomer, into an immense enchanted bazaar, across 

 whose endless counters customers lean and pretty 

 girls display goods. The French are always before 

 the looking-glass, even when they eat and drink. I 

 never went into a restaurant without seeing four or 

 five fac-similes of myself approaching from as many 

 different directions, giving the order to the waiter, 

 and sitting down at the table. Hence, I always had 

 plenty of company at dinner, though we were none of 



