The Paris gamin is respectful, ironical, and insolent. He has bad teeth, because he is poorly fed, and his stomach suffers and fine eyes because he has genius. … To sum up all once more, the gamin of Paris of the present day is, as the grœculus of Rome was in ancient times, the people as a child, with the wrinkles of the old world on its brow. The gamin is a beauty and, at the same time, a disease of the nation—a disease that must be cured. How? By light.

Not surprisingly, the quest for resources other than from the public purse received no small urging by governments and Ministry, though obviously the degree of pressure brought to bear and the means by which it was brought to bear, are legion depending on the state of national wealth and hellfare!

“We used to use a pumicelike product,” he said.

Conversation commenced by Lady Mandeville's refusing some lampreys,—a dish, en passant, greatly resembling stewed adders.