88 STRAY -AW AYS 



leaving tca-leavcs and crusts of bread floating about 

 in it. Wiiat it tasted like is a thing that its victim 

 will struggle long and anxiously to forget. But how 

 to remove the recollection of a slab of something that 

 was entitled tete de veau a la sauce Ravigote, and 

 resembled the unshaven cheek of an elderly gentle- 

 man ? It is a matter too recent and poignant to 

 dwell upon. 



At the other side of the street is a cafe with little 

 tables under its awning, and the white pinafores 

 of the gargons flutter in the fresh spring wind as they 

 flit about, supplying customers with rich, dark ragouts 

 and blue-green glasses of absinthe. It is named, in 

 brilliant red letters, Restaurant an Paradis des cockers, 

 and at an opposite corner stands another of its kind, 

 dedicated in gold to the Rendez-vous des hons Gymnasi- 

 arques. The trees of the Boulevard already cast a 

 grotto-like shade upon the little tables, and the fat 

 men who sit at them. The cremerie has no awning, 

 no shading trees ; its customers sit crowded on com- 

 fortless stools in a hot room. Wliy do we not hold 

 rendez-vous with the good Gymnasiarques, those occult 

 beings not to be found in Bellows' dictionary, or 

 enter into the Paradise of the coachmen, and eat hen 

 au chasseur and craggy lumps of roast lamb with 

 sauce au diable ? 



No one attempts to answer the question, and at 

 mid-day and at evening the same figures squeeze 

 through the same narrow doorway, and the same 

 voices beseech Angelique for the amaranthine cotelette 

 aux 'pommes f rites. 



Martin Ross. 



November 1894. 



