A GLIMPSE OF FRANCE. 217 



as very social, and I was the only one who entered 

 or passed out at the door. The show-windows are 

 the greatest cheat. What an expanse, how crowded, 

 and how brilliant ! You see, for instance, an immense 

 array of jewelry, and pause to have a look. You 

 begin at the end nearest you, and, after gazing a 

 moment, take a step to run your eye along the daz- 

 zling display, when, presto ! the trays of watches and 

 diamonds vanish in a twinkling, and you find yourself 

 looking into the door, or your delighted eyes suddenly 

 bring up against a brick wall, disenchanted so quickly 

 that you almost stagger. 



I went into a popular music and dancing hall one 

 night, and found myself in a perfect enchantment of 

 mirrors. Not an inch of wall was anywhere visible. 

 I was suddenly caught up into the seventh heaven 

 of looking-glasses, from which I came down with a 

 shock the moment I emerged into the street again. 

 I observed that this mirror contagion had broken out 

 in spots in London, and, in the narrow and crowded 

 condition of the shops there, even this illusory en- 

 largement would be a relief. It might not improve 

 the air, or add to the available storage capacity of the 

 establishment, but it would certainly give a wider 

 range to the eye. 



The American no sooner sets foot on the soil of 

 France than he perceives he has entered a nation of 

 drinkers as he has left a nation of eaters. Men do 

 act live by bread here, but by wine. Drink, drink, 

 drink everywhere along all the boulevards, and 



