Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, October 20, 1872, Page 8

THE CHICAGO DRAILY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, OCTOBER uv [ANHATTANISES, . Hotels and Fotel Life. The American and European Plans Com. paved--Growing Popularity of the Eurepean Houses. Inn-Keeping Abroad and at Home--- Family Hotels and Apart- ment Houses. The Leading Caravanseras, and Their Character- ' isties. From Our Oun Correspondent. Krw Yoer, Oct. 16, 1872 .+ Totel-lifé hes Jong been a feature of America; has been extending and improving for years, and has a future that will far surpass its present. The systera we have adopted bere has had & trans-Atlantic influence, and we, in turn, have been affected by the European system to such an extent that public houses on that plan o " rapidly increasing. THE AMERICAN PLAN. 'The tendency in this city is decidedly to the European plan, which is a favorite at once with proprietors and their patrons. Nearly all iho new andpretentious hotels have adopted it, and not a few of tho old establishments. It is not at all improbable that, ten years hence, thero will not be, in the entire town,a first-class ‘houseconducted on the American system. The mdvocates of ihis are usmally what are Lnown a8 old-fashioned people, possessed of ex- cellent appetites, and prejudiced in favor of liberal bill of fare. They are conservative in their physical, ot less than in their mental tastes. Accusiomed to the American mode, they are unwilling to change. They may have had, ‘oo, some unfortunate experignees of the Euro- pean plan, and they remember it to their mate- rial cost. They declare they want to get their money's worth, and that, by paying for cach arti- cle they order, their breakfast cannot be had for lees than three, or their diuner for less than four or five dollars. The members of this class xesist the foriegn innovation ; rigidly adhere to the American houses, and will to the last. A great many others, especially those who have Lived and travelled abroad, and who aro entirely modern in their opinions end inclina- tions, prefer THE EUROPEAN SYSTEM. o They claim thatitis every way superior to the other plan; that by it, and by it alone, they ;. pay for what they get, and not for whet they do ? ot get. They add that food cooked to order is vastly betterand more wholesome than when prepared altogether, as itis in the American ‘bouses. In the latter case, they sey that everything tastes alike; thut there is mo perceptible difference between beef and _matton, quail and wood- cock, chops and chicken, except in name; and that the dreadful monotony of stich diet soon destroys one's appetite, and ultimately oue's digestion. If they miss their meals often at the Totel, as almost every New Yorker docs, they wre not compelled to pay for them, as they are on ‘the Ameriltap system, whetber they have t is A LITTLE SINGULAR that, according to the national method, the pa- tron of = botel is charged for his dinner daily, althongh he may not eat it twice a month. T reason given is, that it was all ready for him, 2nd that the house gains nothing by his_al sence. This is logical, g0 far; but the illo; cal part lies in the fact that, if Ar. Smith, who misses, on an average, 20 to 30 meals a month, invites M. Jones {0 dinner once & month, he ia charged from one dollar and a_half to two dol- Iars for the extra dinner. Strict justice would demand that the extra meals should counter- balance the uneaten ones; but, asthe rule of ‘business is fo make things count to your ad- 'vantage, and, 38 hotels form no exception, strict Justice i8 not to be expected. Living on the European plan requires some STUDY AND EXPERIENCE to prevent its becoming very expensive. If a man have such & breakfast or'dinner at the Bre- them or not. Geneva, Verey, Licerne, and Zurich will bs ready to admit. T am not mufi\fieed thet persons who like our eavdvanseras_ should feil fo appreciate the hos- tlories abroad, for they aro a3 different as_thoy well can be, znd the difference, to my mind, is largely against us. . _THE SWIXDLES AND EXTORTIONS practiced on the continent upon Amorican trav- cllers by forcign landlords has long been a {ruitful “theme of letter-writers and book- makers. Ardyet theso frauds aud extortions vill not compare with thoso wo are 80 accusfom- cd to bere that we have ceasedto complain of them. Most of us goto Europe in a critical and carpiug spirit, pre-determined to find noth- ing 80 good as we havo at home. The Tesult is, we exaggerate every trifling inzouvenience, and denounce each petty cxaction, as if wo lived in land where such things were unknown. Thave heard _my fellow-countrymen rehearse their woesin Moscow and Odesa, where they wero defrauded of a roublo or £wo, or in Cordova or Cadiz, whers their bill was cight or ton reals too much ; while they would remain silent here, though they wore overcharged five or ten dollurs. It 18 regavded as an evidenco of meanuess with us if we question accounts orask for items. Consequently, wo submit to round numbers, even when we know they are wrong, for fear wo may bo thouglit niggardly. Ilaving neithor rank nor caste, money creates our sole social distine- tion; and hence, by & very fallacions logic, we fancy that, by indifference to mouey, we clevate ourselves in the eyes of our fellows. In ‘- the besotted monarchies, and £ effete nations of the old world,” this is not so. Thero, one has no_difficulty in understanding what lie is paying for, because it is the custom to furnish specifications. Strangers, it is true, are nude the victims of fraud thero,~—where, indeed, are they not ?—but the fraud is gener- ally trivial, compared with what it is on this side. FEEING. The fees demanded or expected abrond for every Lind of service are much bewailed by the representatives of the Anglo-Saxon race. “They are munoying, particnlarly from their wide range, and from thelr being regarded us & maiter of course. Still, they are uot onerous, and it is much less trouble, on the whole, to accede to than to resist them. They soon cease to irritate, and do uch to reduce the friction of daily routine. TRespecting fees to servanis and under- lings, we shall soon have little to boast of over our trans-Atlantic brethren. The custom of feeing increases in this city every year, and, even now, it is dificult toget along smoothly without observingit. This 18 particularly true of service at the hotels, which is neitler freely nor satisfactorily given, unless it be paid for as an extra. Persons called waiters, when theyare not “vemembered,” are very apt to mako the boarders waitors. 'They must detect gome dou- cour in the face of him who sits down at _the table, before they show any alacrity in taking his order. They don't exactly refuse to do his _bidding, but _they find it convenient toLeep out of his way. When e is served, he discovers, if he be not & paying customer, that the dishes bronght are not good. and that thereis an evident intent not to please him. This goes on from day to day, until—pro- vided he be not a man who carries principle into trifles—he concludes to try the experiment of bestowing the much coveted * remembrance.” THE EFFECT is marvelous. The investment of a little postal currency produces smiles, obeisauce, prompt- ness, energy, and the very best the kitchen affords. ‘tho patron of the house no longer has rcason to lose bLis temper, mar his appe- tite, perhaps his dig _ thercby, md to gmmblo over _ill-prepared viands, He considers, jusily, that his douceurs retarn 1 very handsomie interest, and, from that moment, he'can bo counted on 88 a regular con- tributor to the servants'slender income. He may have an old-fogyish notion that persons who pay for their dinner have a right to it without any estraordinary disbursements; but De soon sets nside this notion for the sake of conve- nienco and comfort. THE ADVANTAGE OF DOUCEERS. Teeing at hotels on the Evropean plan is more obligatory {han elscwhere, because there are nu- merous mall things which may or may not bo charged, according to the volition of the waiter. ' Bread and butter, for iustanco, may bo furniched in slender or liberal quantities ; so may milk, toast, tea, or coflee ; and, if any 2dditions] supply be asked for, it may Do st down as “ extra.” S0 it i3 with portions, which may be, and which ere, regulated by the servant as befits his mood. If you order for one, having your friend with you, and are not in the hiabit of ** remembering,” your portion will bo very diminutive,—scarccly enough for your- self. %m, if you fee regularly, your portion for one will gatisly two, and, moreover, you will Lave whatever szuces and condiments you may Jesire, choice cuts, fresh vegetables, nice fraits, and other tidbits to which you would be a stranger except for your douceur.. ‘Such being tho condition of things, any one may seo the immenee advantage of conciliating .the waiters financially. To do #o is reallyan economy. By bestowing three or four dollars a week on the servants, you reduce your bills twice as much, and are, besides, preserved in amiability by the attention and zeal manifested ion Joort or Clarendon—in point of variety I mean —as he wonld lave at the St. Nicholas or the Fifth Avenue, it wonld cost him from four to seven dollars, instead of one dollar and a half to two dollara. The rcagon is, that, when he can bave anythingon the bill fora fixed price, he orders much more then he wants; and that, ‘when he pays for each article, he is careful what be orders. The waste, on the American plan, {alls upon the hotel ; and on the Europesn plan, opon the patron; and this, according to the 1eadlords, is the advantage to them of the latter system. After afew pangs of Lis purse, the boarder grows discreet, being careful to order few dishes, 2nd only thoss he feels confident Le can dispose. of. By curbing his eppetite from a_sense of economy, he soon modifies it. At the end of fwo or three months, he finds he eats much less than he did, and that he is the better therefor. It is very essy to recognize an experienced patron of the European plan. He is guarded aud cantious, without any of the prodigality or recklessness that ordinarily marks the repre- sentative of the Model Republic. He under- stands portions_thoroughly; he knows what dishes are given liberally, and what scantily; has measured, in a word, the full purchasing cepa- city of a dollar. BEALTH PROMOTED. That the European plan is healthful to the body, if not to the finances, there can be little doubt. It certainly has atendency to lessen the amount of food esten, and, a8 nearly all of us eat more than we require, or is good, we are correspondingly benefited thereby. I have Xknown numerous instances of this Lind ; former enthusisstic admirers of the Americau syatem ‘having become regular devotees to the Tnropean, and having, by the change, unquestionsbly pro- longed their life. THE TWO PLANS CO:PARED. Having tested both plans, I greatly prefer ihe Furopesn, though, a8 a rule, it is more expen- sive than the American. Onhe does not get as tired of tho former as of the latter, for the reason, as has been stated, ~that the food a la carfe hes a distinc- tive flavor, which it does not and cannot have nt the lable Chole. The European plan is much cheaper, proportionately, for two persons than for one, and might cnnusq!\qxemw bo regarded a8 the more natursl, sinco Nature arranges hu- manity in couples, One portion of almost any 1ish is sufficient for two, unless the boarder re- gemble the gastronomic “sego who pronounced the turkey an uneatisfactory bird because it was a little more than enough for onc and not quite enough for two. i A man's breakfast or dinner will cost him, for bimself alone, very nearly, if not quite, as much 23 it would for himeelf and friend. ence, the European plan may be suid to encoursge matri- mony, since marriage is geuerally influen- .d, though less generally than 1t ought to be. by the oriceot living. It is the sole condition 1 have iny knowledge of in which the oft-repeated and 2ernicious fiction, that two can live as cheaply as Sne, has any foundation in fruth, 1f it incite to wedlock, it 18 doubtful if it couduce to family, amce hotels, everybody is aware, aro ot good places to rear children in, and since there are so nsny married folkis who can barely gt along on e means they heve, without adding to their re- \ponsibilities, DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN HOTELS. « The hotels in this couniry aro generally con- seded, at least by our gwn people, fo be infinite- ? superior to those abroad, albeit I confess that hold & different_opinion. Many of the public s0uses in Englend, and the leading citics of france, taly, snd especially Switzerland, though 20t 80 large, so preteutious, or so noisy, ave in- initely pleasanter and more comfortable than wny in'the United States. Space, gilding, ehow, sustle, and clatter ecem to hiave strong attrace ion for the average American mind; . to me they are ablorrent. 1t is . great relief to pet out of _ the sroad corridors, the vast dining-halle, und the wiscellaneous tumult of the hotels of Kew York tnd Chicago, and_scek rofuge in the snugnoss wd quictude of the hostelries Leyond the se: Che undemonstrative good-cheer of Pritish tav- ans (““tavern” or *inn” should bugcnomlly dopted. instead of the aflccied and ntated “hotel¥) has become almost proverbial ; but, to e excellence of mauy of the pubiic houses in in your belialf, The principle of feeing, you are willing to admit, is wrong, though it is & wrong which brings with it 80 much conveni- ence that it assumes ere long the semblence of right. A GROWING EVIL. New York, in this respect, will, in & few years, e quite as bad as, if not worse than, London or Paris. _ Whepever and _wherever you deal bLere with subordinates, notably with foreigners, you are expected to hand over 8 gratuity. ~ Thoy believe an injustice is done them if youTfail, and resect it accordingly. Your bootblack must not_only be puid for blacking your boots, but must be paid extra for blacking them well. 8o witli your barber, your butler, your Secretary, your employe in any capacity. The line used to be drawn between foreigners and natives,—the latter having & rugged inde- pendence rendering them unwilling to bo treat- ed a8 menials. This line, however, is fast dis- appearing. Americans are beginuing to evince a5 much anxiety for douccurs a8 our Milesian or colored fellow-citizens. THE NGMBER OF HOTELS in the Metropolis can hardly be estimated. ‘There must be nearly 2 thonsand of every sort, though meny of them, nominally such, would fall below the digrity and importence usually asso- ciated here with hotels. A largo portion of the ublic houses are little more than lmudmg and odging places, devoid of the comforts and fuxu- ries of first-class establishments. Fifty or sixty would include those generally and widely known, and most of theee have a_national repu- tation. Every two or three months, some new and elegant hotel, which bas been quietly built, is opemed, and begins &t once 2 prosperous career. The more public honses there aro in the city, the more de- mand there seems to_be for them, I presume, apart from the continually-swelling stream of strangers pouring into town, that our citizens, owing to high rents, the trouble of getting good servants, and sundry other causes, are abandon- ing house-keeping and having recourse to hLos- tleries. ‘This necessitates an enlargement of the sup- play, and we uow bave & numberof what are Etrictly TAMILY HOTELS, somo of them constructed on_new and improved principles, and containing many of the foaturcs of rivate residences. The Haight House, at the southeast cormer of Kifth ave pue and Fiftecnth = street, is_ of this kind, and those _who dwell in it like it exceedingly. It is on ihe French model, -different suites of apartments being ac- cupied by differcnt families, who are as much separated a3 if they lived blocks apart. Each suite has its own kitchen, and thero is, beside, 2 general Litchen, in which meals moy be cooked a8 well as ordered, though they must be served in the family dining-room. Thero is a general entrance; also an office, answering to 8 concier- gerie; an elevator ; and a separato door and en- "trance-hall to each suite of apartments. The reut of these is altogether too bigh for_persons of moderate means, ranging from $1,500 o £3,000 per annum ; &C that they caunot be call- ed, in any sense, an ccononly. ‘Ruero arc other family Lotels, newly put up, in which the rooms are arrapged as inthe Haight Honse; but the vesident families can take their meals in the restaurant, if they like, or can have them served in {heir private dining- rooms at a stipulated price. "Chis mode of liv- ing is cxpensive, too; and, indeed, if there be any mode in which comfort. is consulted that is not expeusive, it is a dead secret to every New Yorker. APARTMENT BOUSES, s 2s they are styled, Lave been built in the cily within a few years, as & compromiso Eetween hotels aud separato dwellinge. They appear to answer the ‘purpose, though they cost u great _ deal— from 3800 to £5,000 a year for euch family.-—and are, therefore, Within the means of but compara- tivély fow. LEADING CARAVANSERAS. Among the best-kuown American hotcls are ttio . Hicholas, Jletropolitan, Grand Central, and Fifth Avenue; neurly all the other promi- like the Astor, New York, Bro- . Everett, Hoffman, Wetmins- , Gilsey, and St. Cloud— Tranco, Belgium, Switzerland, xnd Italy, justice ~in 85 u8VCE boen done...- 5. Suiss hotels.500,.bY. | the principal proprietor, has the reputation of having made more money than almost any pub- lic house in town. It is very well kept; rents for $75,000, and is chiefly patronized by people from the West. When it was opened, some twenty Yyears ago, it was thought to lie 8o far up town that it could not succeed. Now, itis ab least o mileand o half below the line (Fourteenth street) that divides down town from up town. 2N, TIHE METROPOLITAN is still kept by & son of Willism M. Tweed, and still suffers {rom the odium the late Tammany chiof incurred by exposure of the Ring frauds, It is slowly recaveriuq therefrom, however, though itis said to have lost money every day since its renovation and reconstruction. It is superbly furnished. and one of the best appoint- ed houses in the city. The Lelands, after laving it for nearly twenty yerTs, went into baukruptey, and very bad bank- Tuptey at that. ‘he Metropolitan, owned by Alexunder T, Stewart, rents, I holieve, for 380,000 per aunum, Californiaus and citizeus of the Northwest are its principal customers. THE GRAND CENTIAL has been the Lafarge and Southern. When tho Winter Garden 'heatre, which was in its rear, ‘was burned, the hotel was seriously injured. 1t then underwent oxtensive alterations and addi- tions, and is now the resort of country mer- chants from various quarters,—the charges be- ing Jower than those of any Broadway establish- ment. It seems to bo prosperous, and is still ointed out s the hotel in which Colonel James iisk, Jr., was assassinated. Tho advertising gained by that murder is veported to bave boen very beneficial to tho gl'opxictnr. The gunual rent of the Ground Central is, T am informed, 65,000. THE FIFTH AVENUE, built by the Into Paran Stevens, has been ex- tremoly succossful from the firat. It stands at tho head of tha American houses, and_has been for somo time & sort of up-town Gold-Room and Stock-Exchange. Every evening, its_spacious corridors are crowded with brokers and speenla- tors, with gossips, news-gatherers, and well- dressed loungers gencrally. Tho honso rents, I think, for 8100,000 per aunum, which is eaid to be less than its yearly average profits have been since its opening. - Most strangers wishing to be thought fashionable, aud preferring the Americen plap, stay there while in town, and numerous citizens make it their home. Not & few of them pay for their accommodations from 10,000 to $12,000 a year. TUE OLD ASTOR has now been conducted on the European system two years. It long einco lost its prestige as a fashionablo hotel, but retainsmany of its ancient customers. The prosent lease expires in throo years, aftor which the Astor will probably Lo converted to business uses. t bas an interesting history, 8s nmearly all the distinguisfied men 'of the past and present generation have sometime stayed thero. The Stetsons, father and sons, have had it from its opening, with the exception of a few months; and yet, strange to sy, havo not, 28 I under- stand, made_any money out of it Ouewould suppose, with their aglendid opportunities, that they might all have been rich long before this. Tho annusl rent of the Liotel part of the Astor is §55,000; but, when it is turned into offices, as it donbtless will be by its ovner, William B, Astor, it will rent for much more. The bulk of its sup- porters, at present, are provincial tradesmen and merchants. This houee Lius been, and is_still to a certain extent, a favorite sojourning place for Journalists in_and_out of town, owiug to its contiguity to Printing House Square. THE NEW YORE continues to bo patronized largely by Southern- ers, and prezerves a gond reputation. 1Its rent is 340,000, and it old proprietor, Hiram Crons- ton, realized ont of it a handsome independ- ence. THE BREVOORT AND CLARENDON. are regarded as among the best of the Buropesn houses, being favorites with diplomats, foreign dignitavies and nobles, and “ swell " Englishmen geverall. The Brevoort, as yon are aware, i3 quito small, and its rooms not very de- sirable ; but ite restatrant is decmed second to none in the city. The Brevoort snd Clarendon are, of course, espensivo, even for New York, and cxceedingly profitablo to their pro- prie - THE OTHERS. . The Hoffman, Westminster, St.James, and, indeed, all the well-kept housss, are reported to be prosperous. I can sce no reason why they should not be; their charges are generally high, and promptly paid without quetioning. = Hotel proprictors who fail to maie monoy hers al- most invariably owe their are to want of proper mansgement. An estublished hotel in New York is to him who underatands its direc- tion as good as a mine of gold. J. H.B. P S AT THE LOVE-LETTER. 8 de mon temps, ot j'ai public cette "—La Nouvelle Leloise. If this should fail, why then I scarcely know ‘What should succeed. Lere’s brilliancy (snd ban- ter), ‘Byron ad lib,, & chapter of Roussean ; If this should fail, then tempora mutantur ; Style's out of date, and love, 28 3 profession, Acquires o aid from beauty of expression. “ Jai vu les moeus lettr “Tho men who think as T, I think, are few," (Cynics would say ‘twere well if they were fewer) ; “¢T'am not what ¥ scem,’”"—(indecd, *tis true ; Though, a8 a geutiment, it might be newer) ; “3fing is & soul whose deéper foclings lio ‘More deep than words,"—(as these exemplify). #1 will not say when first sour benuty's sun Thlumed my life,”—(it needs imagination) ; “For me to 8¢o you and to love were one,"— (This will account for some precipitation) ; #Let it sufice that worship more devoted Neler throbbed, 7 et ceterz, Tho rest is quoted. #1If Jove can look wilh eyes prophetical, "— (Al if he could, how many would be single! " “If truly spirit unto spirit call, "— (The enrsof some most terribly must tingle !) “Then I have dreamed you will not turn your face, " This pext, I think, is more than commonplace. # Why should we spealk. if love, interpreting, Forestall the spoech with favor found before? Why should we plead 7—it were an idle thing, 1f Love himself be Love’s ambassador ! * Blot, as I live. _Shali we eraseit? Noj— 1t eliows we write currente cslamo, #1T0 you my fate, my fortune, I commit, ” (In"point of fact, the last s Dot oxtenslve); “Without you I aia poor indeed, ” (omit, *Tis true but crude—'twould make her apprehen- ive); “31y life is yours—I Iay it at your foet,"'— (Having no choico but Hymen or tho Fleet). “Give mp the right to stand within the shrine, “Where never yet my faltering feet intruded ; Givo mo the right to call you wholly mine,"— {1a ct, conola and three-per-cents inciuded); o guard your rest from cvery cate that cankers, To keop your life,"—(und balance at your banker's), “ Compel me not to long for your reply ; Suspense makes havoe with the mind” (snd mus. cles) s . “ “'m‘glnd)hope takes flight,”—(that means that I must 1y Defal of funds, to Paris or to Brussels); 41 cannot wait! Aly own, my queen—Priscilla ! ‘Write Ly return.” And now for a Manilla, Diss Blank,” at “Blaok,” Jemima, let it go, And I, meanwhile, will idle with $ir Waiter 5 Stay, let me keep the first rough copy, thongh— "Piwill serve aguin, There’s but the name to alter, And love, that needs, must knock at every portal, Tu forma pauperid. Woare but mortal f —Austin Dobson in St. Paul's, e, Profanc Swearing--Resolutions Ad~ opted by the Michigan Classis of 1he Reformed Church. ‘WHEREAS, Profane swearing, which is the crime and shame of our Christian civilization, and the attendant of overy vice, which pollutes our youth, broaks both Divine and human laws, undermines_morality, turns the knowledge of the true God into the destruction of men’s souls, and i8 totally indefensible by any argument of reason or usofulness, is yet fearfully und grow- ingly prevalent; and WuEREAS, Thero appears to be but little con- certed and persistent action among the peoploof God, and the lovers of morslity, either through the pulpit, the press, or tho Sunday School for the suppression and destruction of this great Ein; thereforo Resolved, That we will do all we can individ~ ually, by the use of sermons, cards, tracts, pa- pers, books, and conversation, and by our influ- enco and our prayers, to lessen if not remove this vico from the neighborhoods, towns, and cities in which we Jive. Resolved, That we will do everything possible, by wisely directed and persevering effort, to en- list all Christiuns and lovers of tha well-being of eociely in the combined use of every proper meens, for rooting out this terrible evil from our country. Resolved, That we memorize the other ecclesi- astical bodies of our Church, to take such action 28 will develop, utilize, and concentrate Cbris- tian and patriotic principle, anxiety, and labor for the cradication of this vice. Resolved, That wo request our Board of Publi- cation to issue suitable and attractive mottoes, cards, tracts, and books on this subject, for use i{x_\ our families, Sunday Schools, and communi- ies, Resolted, That we earnestly inyoke tho power- ful aid of tho religious and fecular press, in the attempted suppression and prevention of this wide-spread, illegal, usoless, injurious, and in< dofensible ovil of profane swearing. —Ex-Secrotary John P. Usher is fiishing a | . EUGENIE GRANBDET; on, Scenmes of Provimeial Life. Tyanslated from the French of De Dalzac for The Chitugo Trivune. Iv. At these words, the compaay rose, and each one took leave after his fashion. The old notary went to look for his lantern, under the doorway, and came back to light it, offering the des Grassins to escort them home. Madamo des Grassins Lad not foreseen the inci- dent whick was to bring the cvening to a prema- ture close, and her servant had not arrived. +Will you do me the honor of taking my arm, Madame 7 ” said Abbe Cruchot to Madame des Grasgins, “ “Thanks; I have my son,” replied she, briefly. “ Ladies canuot compromise themselves with me,” gaid the Abbe. “ Give your arm to Monsieur Cruchot,” said her husband. The Abbe carried off the pretty lady quite briskly, in order to bea few steps in advance of the procession. “That young men is very fair, Mademe,"” said he, pressing her arm. “ Good bye, penniers,— the grapes aro gethered. You must bid fare- well to Mademoiselle Grandet; Eugenio will be given tho Parigions. Unless this cousin is en- smoured of somo Parisian woman, your son Aflolphe will find in him the most dengorous ival.” ver mind, Abbe. This young maa will not be long in noticing that Eugenio is a simpleton, a gix] without freshueee. Did you examino Ler? She was as yellow as saffron this eveniog.” “Perbaps you have already made her cousin notice it ?” “Certainly I have not resirained myself on that point.” “Keop yourself constantly noer Eugenie, Mad- ame, end it will not be necessary for you to ssy muchto this young gontleman against his cousin; ho will himself make a comparison which——" #To begin with, he has promised to dine with mo day after to-morrow.” “AR! if you would, Madame—" gaid the Abbe. “And whatdo you want I should do, Abbe? Do you mean to give mo evil counsels ? I have not reached the age of 39 with & spotless repu- tation, thank Heaven! to compromise it, even if the Empire of the Grand 3ogul were at stake. ‘We aro both of us old enough to know what words meen. For an ecclesiastic, you really lave very unsuitable ideas. For shame! That is worthy of Faublas. S0 you have read Faublas 2" “No'Abbe, I meant the Liaisons Dangereu- ses.” “Oh! that bookis infinitely more moral, ™ eaid the Abbe, with a laugh. * But you make me out to be #s_perverted asa young man of the dey. I simply wanted to— " “Do not dare to tell me that you did not think of advising me to do wicked things. Is itnot plain ? If this young man, who, I admit, is very decent, made love to me, ho wonld not think of his cousin. At Paris, I know, some rood mothers sacrifice themselves thus for the gnpplnezu and fortuno of their children; but we are in the country, Abbe.” *Yes, Madame.” “ And,” continued she, “xneither I nor Adolphe himsolf would want a hundred millions bought at that price.” ‘ Madame, I have not spoken of 2 hundred millions. ‘The temptation would ‘pcrhups have been greater than the strength of both of us. But I believo that a_respectablo woman can properly allow horself insignificant_flirtations, which form pars of bLer social duties, and which—-" £ Do you think 507" Qught we not, Madame, to try to be agree- able to one another ? Allow me to blow my nose. Yassure you, Madamo,” continued he, ~**that he eyed you with an air which was rather more flattering than the one be sssumed when Lo Iooked at mo; but I pardon him for honoring beauty before old age.” “1tisplain,” said the President, with his coarse voice, + that Monsieur Graudet, of Paris, gonds his son to Saumur with extremely matri- monial iutentions.” ** But then the cousin would not hava dropped Iilie o bombshell,” replied the notary. “ That signifies nothing,” eaid des Grassins ; # the old man js secretive.” *Des Grassing, my dear, I have invited this oung man {o dinper. You must go and ask ilansleur and Madame do Larsonniere, and the dn Hautoys, including the_pretty Mademoisello du Hautoy, of course. But sho must dress well that day ; ber mother, from jealousy, bun- dles her up &6 ridiculously. Ihope, gentlemen, that you will do us the honor of coming,” she uddeg, stopping her escort, to turn back to the two Cruchots. i ‘ Here you are at home, Madame,” said the notary. A(gt having bidden the three des Grassins good night, the three Cruchots went home, using that analytical genius which provincials possess, to study in all its aspects tho great event of that evening, which changed the res- poctive positions of the Crachottins and _Gras- sinists. Tho admirable g0od senso which gov- erned the actious of these great calculators made both sides feel the necessity of a momen- {ary alliance against the common enemy. Must they not mutually prevent Eugenie's loving her cousin, and keep Charles from thinking of Eugenfe? Comld tho Parisian resist the per- fidious insinuations, the honeyed calumnies, the slanders mixed with“flfliaes, and the naive depreciations, which would constantly surround him, to deceive him ? ‘When the four relatives were alone in the sit- ting-room, Grandet said to his nephew, It is time to go to bed. Itis too late to talk of the ‘mattors which bring yon here; we will takes fitting moment to-morrow. We brealfast here at eight ; at noon, we_eat some fruit end s mor- sel of bread and drink a glass of white wine; then we drive, like Parisians, at five. That is the rule. If you wanbto see the town or its on- ‘virons, you will be as free as air. You will ex- cuse mé if my business does not, always allow me to go with you. You will 1&aflmpa ear the people all say that T sm rich; Monsieur Grandet this, and Monsieur Grandet that. I letthem talk ; their babble does not hurt my credit. But T have not a son, and, oldasI am, I work like a youug journeyman, who owns only & poor plane and $o good arme. Perhaps you will see presently what & crown costs when' it is neces- s-‘ury ,tn sweat for it. Come, Nanon, the can- oa 1" “I hopo, my nephew, you will find all you need,” said Madsme Grandet ; * but, if anything is wanting, you can call Nanon.” . ““My dear auat, that is unlikely. I believe have brought overything I require. Allow me to wish you and my young consin good night.” Charles took from Nanon's handsa lighted wax-candlo,—an_Anjon was-light, very yellow in color, old in the shop, and 80 Jiko tallow-dip that Monsiour Grandet, incapable of suspecting ita existence in the Louse, did not notice this magnificence. I will show you the way," esid be. Instead of going out of that sitting-room door which opened into the main_corridor, Grandet ‘went through the ceremony of going through the passage which separated the eitting-room from tho ritchen. A swing door, with & greab oval pane of glaes, closed this pas- sage on the side of tho tsirway, in order to moderate the cold which poured in there. But, nevertholess, in winter the wind blew very sharply through there, and, in spite of the listing around the sitting-room doors, it was hard to keep s comfortablo degree of heat there. Namon Went to bolt the front door, shut up the sitting-room, and let loose in the stable 2 wolf-dog, whose voice was as cracked as if it bad laryngitis. This animal, of exceptional ferocity, Linew only Nanon. Theee two creatures of the fields undorstood one ‘another. When Charles saw tho yellowish and_smoky walls of the well, where ‘the stairs, with their worm- eaten balusters, shook urder the heavy step of his uncle, his stupefaction went rinforzando. He believed him'-cgf in & chicken-roost. His aunt and his cousin, toward whom he turned to uestion their faces, wore.so well accustomed to that stairway that,; not guessing the cause of his astonishment, they took it for a dfriendly look, and replied with istraction. a {)]ofl.!ant smile, which drove him to #What the devil is my fatLer sending me here for?” said he to himself, On reaching the first 1:nding-place, ho eaw three doors painted in Etruscan red, and without jambs,—doors sunk in the dusty walls, and bound with bolted strips of iron, with flamboyant ends, like the long es- cutcheon of the lock. The door at the head of the stairs, which led into the room over the Litchen, was evidently walled up. This room could bo entered only E;mugh Grandet’s chem- ber, to which it served as a_cebinet. The eoli- tary window which lit it, and which looked oat n - mense iron bars. Nobody, not even Madame Grandot, was allowed to enter it; he wanted to be alone there, like un alchemist at his crucible. Tlere, doubtless, some hiding-place had been very skillfully made; thero were put away his title-decds ; thero Lung the scales for weighing £old; thero were made ot night, in secret, re- ceipts and calculations, 8o thot business pcoplo, alvays seeing Graudet resdy for everything, migltt fancy that he had 2 fairy or & demon af his orders. There, no doubt, when Nanon snored 40 28 to shako the floors, when the wolf-dog watched and gaped in the court, when Madamo and Mademoisclle Grandot were sound sglecp, came the old cooper to fondle, carcss, broad over, and hug his gold. The walls were thick, the blindg discreet, He alone had the Ley of this Iaboratory, where, they said, lie coneulted plans on which his frait-trees were marked down, snd where Le figured out his crops to o vine-gprig, or almost to a fagot. The_entranco to Eugenie's room faced this walled-up door. Then, at the end of the landing, was tho room'of the hushand and twife, which occupied the entire front of the house. _Madame Grandot bad a room adjoining that of Eugenie, and con- nected with it by a glass door. Tho room of the mester was separated from that of his wife by a partition, and_from the mysterious closet by a tbick wall, TFather Grandet bad lodged his nephew on the second story, in the high man- #ard above his own room, €0 that he could hear bim if ho took a fancy to go in and out. When ZLugenie and her mother reached the middle of the landing, they gave each other a good-night kiss; then, after having enid some parting words to Charles, cold on the lips, but certainly warm in the heart of the girl, they went into their respective rooms. e *‘Here you are, my nephew,” said Father Grandet fo Charles, as he opened his door. “If you have to go out, you will' call Nanon. Without her, I tell you, sir, the dog would devour you without saying a word. Bleep soundly, Good night. Ha, ha! these ladies have made a fire for you,” added he. Just then Nanon appeared with s warming-pan. “And here is_something else,” said Monsienr Grandet. “Do gon take my nephew for & woman in childbed? Just carry back your coals, Nanon.” ** But, gir, the sheets aro damp, and this gen- tleman 15 a8 delicate a8 a woman.” “ Yery woll, go ahead, since you are seton it,” snid Grandet, pushing her by the shoulders “but tako caro not to set firo to_ anything.” Then the miser went down, mumbling undis- tinguishable words. Charles stood, panting, in the midst of his baggage. After having looked at the walls of & garrot-room, covered with that yellow paper, with bunches of flowers, with which counf taverns are pupered; at a fireplace of fluted frec-stone,the mere sight of which was chilling; at yellow wooden chairs, with varnished cane-seats, and which scemed to have more than {our cor- ners; afan open wash-stand, large enough to hold's small Sergeant of Voltigeurs; at the scanty list-carpet, placed at the foot of a canopy- bed, whose cloth-curtains shook a8 if they were about to fall, finished by the worms,—he looked gravely at Grande Nanon, and said to her, “ See Tere, my dear child, am T really with Monsieur Grandot of Paxis ?" : iYos, eir, with a very kind, a very mild, & very perfect gontleman. = Shall’T help yca nn- packo” : “0n my word, I wish you would,ay old tmoie;. Have not ypu served in the marines of the erial Guard? “Oh! oh! oh!” said Nanon, ““what is that? The marines of the ? Is it something salt? Dossitgoonthowsters “'Here, look for my dressing-gown in tkat va- lise. Here is the key." Nanon was perfectly amazed to see & dress- ing-gown of green silk, with flowers of gold and antique figures. “ Ara you going to put that on to go to bed 2" eaid she. “Yes." “Holy Virgin! what beautiful altar-cloth that would make for the parish. But my dear, pretty gentleman, give it to the Church, and you will save yoursoul; otherwise, it will cause~ you to loseit. Oh! how fine you look mow. call Mademoiselle to look at you.” 4 Come, Nanon,—since Nanon it is,—~will you please keep quiet? Lot me goto bed, and Iwill arrange my clothes to-morrow; and, if my dress- ing-gown pleases you so_much, you shall save your soul; I am too good & Christian to refuse it to you when I leave, and you can do whet you pleaso with it.” 5 Nanon remained, standing still, staring at Charles, and unable to believe what he said. “ Give mo that beautiful dress! " said she, as she left. *‘This gentleman is alreedy dream- ing. Good night.” ** Good night, Nanon.” “ What have I come here for?™ said Charles to himself, as he fell asleep. My father is not a fool, and my trip must have some purposs. ‘Bah! business to-morrow, as some Greek block- head observed.” “ Holy Virgin! but my cousin is handsome,” s2id Eugenie, interrupting her prayers, which were not finished that evening. Madame Grandet had no particular thonght when she went to bed. She heard, throngh the connecting door in_the middle of the partition, the miser walking back and forth in his room. Like all timid women, she had studied the char- scter of hor lord. A3 tho seaman foresees the storm, 80 she, by imperceptible signs, h foreseen the internal storm wh?ch Atiflsgmgrnn- det, and, to eghy tho expreasion eho used, she played the dead person. Grandet looked at the interior door, with -two thicknesses of cloth, which he had made for his closet, and said to himself, “Whst odd _ides did my brother have in bequeathing me his son? A pretty inherit- ance! Ihavenot twenty crowns to dg::e away. But what aro twenty crowns to this dandy, who looked at my barometer as if ho wanted to burn itup?” As he thought of the consequences of this legacy of sorrow, Grandet was, perhaps, moro agitated than his brother was when he wrote it. ““8hall I have that robe of gold ?” said Nanon, who fell asleep dressed in her altar-cloth, dream- ing of flowers, tapestry, and damask, for the firét, time in her life, 58 Eugenie dréamed of love. In the pure and monotonous life of young women, there comes & delicions hour, when the eun pours its beams into their souls, when a flower conveys thoughts to them, when tho pal- pitations of the heart impart their fecundating hent to the brain, and blend ideas in & vague de- sire; a_day of innocent melancholy and swest joys. When children begin to see they smile; when a girl begins to see glimpses of feeling in Nature, she smiles as she did when a child. ~If light is the first love of life, i8 not love the light of the heart? Thetime for seeing clearly things here below had come to Eugenie, An early riser, like all country girls, she got up in good season, prayed, and began her toilet,—an operation which thenceforth was to have a meaning. She first brushed her chest- nut locks ; wound their great braids abote her head with the greatest care, being careful lest e hates, shoud escape from their plaita; and ave to her head-dress & symmetry which geigh{eflad the timid candor of her face by har- monizing the simplicity of its adjuncts with the naiveto of its lines. As she repeatedly washed her hands in pure water, which hardened and reddened the &ekin, ghe looked at her fine, round arms, and osked herself what her cousin did to have his thands 80 softly white, and his nails g0 woll shaped. She put onnew stockings and her prettiestshoes. Sho laced herself tight, skipping mo egelets. Finally, wishing, for the first time in her life, to appear o advantago, sho knew the happiness of biaving a fresh dress, ich render- must ~well made, and whi edherattractive. When hertoiletwas ended, sho heard tho parish clock strike, and was astonished at coupting but seven strokes. The wish to bave 2l the time necesssry for dressing well had caused her to get up too soon. lgnorant of the_art of re-arranging a braid ten times, and studying its effect, Eugenia simply folded her arms, est down by her window, looked at the court, the parrow nrden, and the high terraces which overlooked it,—n melanchely a0d restricted view, bt which was not dovoid of the mysterions beauties peculiar to lonely places or uncultivated nature. Near the kitchon was a well with a curb, and with & pully fixed in & curved rod of iron, which was embraced by & grape vine, with loaves with- ered, reddened, and blasted by the season. Thonce, the winding vine gained the wall, clung toit, ran along the honse,pand came to an en at o wood-pile, where thd wood was arranged 'ith a8 much accuracy as the volumes of a book- lover could be. The pavement of the court pre- sented those blackish hues produced, with time, by mosscs, grasses, and e lack of travel. The thick walls 8howed {heir green covering, waved with long brown bands. Finally, tho eight steps at the end of the conrt, and which led to the garden-door, were disjointed, and buried under tall plants, like the tomb of & Knigt in- terred by his widow at the time of the Crusades. Above s layer of time-worn stones roso a xotten Wooden trellis, balf-fallen from old_age, but to which climbing plants allied themselves at their pleasure. On each side of the gate projected the twisted bonghs of two stuntcd apple-troes, Three perallel walks, sanded, and separated by beds, whose shepo was preserved by box- borders, made up this garden, which wes ended, at the foot of the terface, in a thicket of lindens, Atono end were mp'hnr‘xl vines; at tho other, an immenee walnut, which bent its branches over tothe closet of thecooper. A clear day. and the beautiful sun of the sutumns common on the beaaks of the, Loire, began to T g Oh B S printed on all_picturésque cbjects, the walls, Sad tio plants 14 tho gardon and the court. Eu” genie found new charms in the sight of these things, formerly so commonplace to.her. A thoueand confused thoughts were born in her soul, rnd geined strength thore, a3 the sunbeams did without. She felt at Iast that impulse of vague, inexplicable pleasure which envelops the moral'2s a cloud does the physical being. _Her reflections agreed with the details of this singu- lar landscape, and the harmonies of her heart allied themselvas with those of Naturg, When tho sun reachied s side of & wall whence hung Venus' hairs with thick leaves, and with colors as changing as the throats of pigeons, celestiel rays of hope lit up the future for Engenie, who honceforth took pleasura in look- ing at that wall, at her pallid tlowers, her bluo bells, and her drooping plants, with which thers blended itself a momory tender ay thos Of in- fancy. The noise which cach leaf msde in that echoing court, as it foll from its bough, gave an answer to the secret questions of the yomng girl, who might have stayed there all day with- ont noticing the flight of time. Thero came tumultuous throbs of the soul. She rose fre- quently, siocod before ber glass, and looked at herself, to criticise it and abuse himself. *T am not handsome enough for him.” This wag the thought of Eugenie,—an humble one and fruitfal in suffering. The poor girl did not. do horselt justice ; but modesty, or rather fear, s one of the prime virtues of love. Eugeniebe- longed, itis true, to the type of robustly-built clnldran, most of those of her class do, and whose charms appear vulgar; but, if she re- sembled the Venus of Milo, her expression was ennobled by that suavity of Christian fecling, ‘which purifies woman, and gives her a distine- tion unknown to the early sculptors. She had an immense head, the masculine but delicate forehead of the Jupiter of Phidias, and gray eyes, to which her chasto life, concentrating it- gelf there, gave a flood of light. Her fac had once been fresh and rosy, bub her features had been roughened by an aitack of small-pox, merciful enough toleave no marks, but which had destroyed the velvet of her eliin, which was still, however, g0 soft and delicate that the pure kiss of her motherleft a slight red mark onit, Her nose was a little too large, but it harmonized with a mouth as red os vermillion, and whose lips, with & thousand del- icato lines, were full of love and kindness. The neck had o perfect roundness. Tho swelling ‘bosom, carefully hidden, attracted the eye and lunged one in areverie ; certainly it lacked & ittle of that grace which the toilet gives, but, for connoisseurs, the rigidity of that fine bus} must be an attraction. Engenie, tall and Jarge, had, therefore, nothing of that prettiness which pledses the misses, but ehe was beautiful with that beauty which is 8o easily recognized, and of which artists alone are enamored. The painter who seeks on earth & type from the celestial &nxity of Mary ; who asks of femi- nine nature those modestly prond eyes divined by Raphael; those virginal lines, often due to the accident of birth, but which a Christian and modest life alone canpreserve or acquire,—that painter, in love with a rare model, would'heve found at once inthe face of Eugenie that in- nate nobility which does not know itself; he would have seen, under a calm forehead, a world of love, and, in the shape of the eyes and the fashion of the eyelids, something divine. Her features and the contour of her head, which the oxpression of pleasure had never modified or ‘wearied, resembled the outlines of the horizon 50 softly defined in the distance of tranquillakes. That calm face, tinted and bordered with s glim- mering light, like a pretty flower just opened, rested the soul,—communicated to it the calm of the conscience which mirrored itself there and held the oye. Engenie was yet on the verge of life, where the illusions of childhood flourish, and where daisies are plucked with & pleasure which is later unlnown. So she snid, 23 sho looked at_herself, yet ignorant of love, “Iam too homely ; he will pay no aitention to me.” Then she opened the door of her room, look- ing ont upon the stairs, and stretched het neclt to hear the noises in the house. *He is not otting up,”thonght she, 23 she heard the morn- ing cough of Nanon, and the good girl going and. coming, sweeping out the sitting-raom, lighting her fire, chaining up the dog, and talking to her beasts in the stable. Eugenie at once went down,and ran to Nanon. who was milking the cow. “Nanon, my good Nanon, do make some cream for my cousin’s coffce.” But, Mademoiaslle, you oughtto have looked after that yesterdsy,” said Nanon, breaking out ina great fit of lsughter. “I cannot make cream. Your cousin is dainty,—oh! Very dainty. You have not seenhim in his dressing-gown of silk and gold, 1sawhim. Ho wears linen as fine as the vicar's surplice.” “ Nanon, make us a cake, then.” # And who will give me wood for the oven, and flour, and butter 2" said Nanon, who, as prime minister of Grandet, assumed, somotimes, im- meno importance in the eyes of Eugenie and her mother. **We must not rob the master to feast your cousin. Ask him for butter, flour, and wood; he is your father; Le can give thom toyou. There, he is coming down now to look affer the provisions.” Eugenie escaped into the garden, terrified as she heard the stairs shake under her father’s step. She already experienced the effects of that profound modesty, and that peculiar con- sciousness of our happiness, which make us be- lieve—not without cause, porhaps—that our thoughts are printed on our foreheads, and are open to the eyes of others. Noticing at last the cold'nakedness of her father’s house, the poor- girl folt a sort of vexation at her inability to make it accord with the elegance of her cousin. She felt a passionate necessity for doing some- thing for him. What? She did not know. Naive and truthfal, she yielded to her angelic xature, without distrusting either her impres- sions or Lier feelings. The mere sight of her congin had awakened in her the natural inclina- tions of woman, and they were to develop with increased rapidity, since, having reached her twenty-third year, she was at the fall- ness of her intelligence and her desires. For the first time, she felt in her heart terror at the sight of her father, saw in him the master of her fate, and belioved herself guilty of a feult in lding from him her thonghts. She began to wallk with hurried steps, feeling amazed at breathing a purer air, at finding the sun’s rays more vivifying, and at deriving from them a motal heat, o new life. While she was thinking of some way to get the cakes, there occurred be- tween Grande Nanon and Grandet one of those disputes which were as unusual with them as with swallows in winter. Armed with his keys, the good man had coma to measure out the pro- 'visions required for the day’s consumption. ““Was there any bread left from yesterday?” said he to Nanon. “ Not & crumb, sir.” Grandet took a large vound loaf. weil floured, kmeaded in one of those fiat baskets which are used for bread-making in Anjou, and was about to cut it, when Nanon eaid to him: **'There ara five of us to-dny, sir.” “ That is true,” said Grandet, “but your loaf weighs aix pounds, and some will be left over. Besides, you will see that_these young peoplo from Paris do not eat bread.” “YWill they eat frippe, then ?” said Nanon. In Anjou, frippe—a word belonging to the com- mon_speech—means the accompaniment of ‘bread, from butter spread on & biscait, common frippe, to_apricot preserves, the most disti hed of frippes ; and all who in their child~ 0od have licked off the frippe and lett the bread, will inderstand the significance of this word. No,” said Grendet, “they eat neither frippe nor bread. They are like marriageable girls,” Then, after having parsimoniously ordered the bill of fare for the day, he was abont starting for tho place where the fruit was kept, never theless locking up the drawers of his store-room, when Nanon stopved bim to say: * Give mo some flour and butter, and X willmake a cake for the children.” % Are you going to plunder the house for the sako of my nephew 2" “Idid mot think of your nephew any more than of your dog, no more than you do yourself. Do not you seo that you have fetched out only six lumps of sogar? I must have eight.” “ Look hero, Nanon, I have uever seen yon actlike this. What is the matter with you? Are you the mistress here? You shall have only- Bix Jumps of sugar.” = ““Well, what will your nephew sweeten his coffee with?” 5 *+ With two Iumps I will do withont any.” “You do without sugar, at your ago! I h: rather buy you some from my own pocket. *# Mind your own businosa! ” In spite of the reduced price, sugar was al- waye, in the oyes of the cooper, tho most costly article of colopial produce; it was alweys worth six francs s _pound to him. The necessity ot economizing in its use, acquired under the Em- iro, had become the most ineradicable of his abits. All women, even the most silly, can bo cunning to gain tb‘t‘zir ends; Nanon gave up tho sugar to get the cake. > fl[ma%noifilh,“ she called dut through tho window, ‘“do you want a cako? No, no,” replied Eugenie. k- “u {‘{/dl, Nznng," ‘said Grandet, as he heard his daughtor's voice, Ho opencd the locker whero the flour was, gave hier & measnrefull, and added gomo ounces of butter to the lump ho had al- ut. T o Havo some wood to heat tho oven,” said the implacable Nanon. G “Vell, you will take what you use,” replied he, sadly, “‘but then you must make us & fruit- tart and cook the whole dinner in fll? oven ; then e firgs,” e make ty 28 8 fair-minded author does &t his work, | “Yonneed not tellme that,” exclaimed Nanon. \ Grands ve his ministeran almost look. “Afademoiselle,” cried the cook, *we shall have a cake.” Father Grandet returned with his fruit, and set down a first dishful on the kitchen table. “Just see,” ‘said Nanon to him, “what pretty boots your nephew has. What loather! And how good it smells! What are they clesned 'flx'.? JMust I put on some of your egs-black- in £ * Nanon, I believe eggs would spoil this leather. Tell him that you do not know how to polish moracco ; yes, this is morocco. He ‘must buy st Saumar, &nd give you something to polish his boots. I havo heard it ssid that they put sugar iu their polish to make it bright.” # Ts it good to eat ?” said the.servant, hold- ing theboots to her nose. ©Well, well, they smell like Madame's cologne watcr. ” Oh ! tha i& funny.” “ Funoy! " said the master ; “ do you find it funny to put more money on beots than he who wears them is worth 2” ' “+Monsieur,” eaid she, after the second trip of her master, who had shut up the fruit-room, “will not you have soup once or twice & week on account of your—"" 2 s #Must I go to the butcher’s?"” s “ Cortainly mok; you suust mike us Soms chiclicn soup. The farmers will not lesve yon empty-handed. But I will tell Cornoiller to ‘me some rooks. They make the best brothin the Ewrld." " — I' 2 “Ta it true, sir, that they eat dead peopla?™ “Yonare foolish, Nanon! -Like m'eryflngfi else, they eat what they find. Do not we all live on dead people ? What are inheritances? [7v be Continued nezt Sunday.] Faneral Servies in Athens. Long before a funeral procesaion comes in sight, the ear catches the low monotonous chant of the priests, who are preceded by boys in white robes bearing the crucifi¢ and ecclesiastical in- signia, in presence of which every hesd is un- covered, and every hand msakes the sign of the cross. The corpse is exposed to full view in sn open cofin of light ma- terial, covered with white or- black cloth, with silver or gilt decorations, the cover of which,. marked with s long disgonal cross, is carried before the processiom. The body is dressed in the customary clothes of the decensed, the head slightly elevated, and the hauds folded in front of a panel picture of the Virgin sot up on the breast. If if is a femals, the cheeks and lips are painted vermilion, in- tendad to reproduco & natural expression, but which gives to the corpse an artificial and ghast- ly look. Even to one accustomed to witness the exposure of the dead in Oriental countries, there is something painful in the ides exhibiting to the glare day, and amidst the whirl and manflbm% of the public street, the festures of a decease person who in life may have been known only to thelittle group of gmoumers gathered abont thi!emx'fii At G{ce d,fum:,rflti thlail;etam is not generally employed, and the light open cnskegf: is borne bg the hands of the nearest friends of the deceased, while the other mourn- era walk, not in's group around it. Thus they literally carry and accompany, rather than follow, their friend to the grave, and -upon the face which was once desr to them up to tho moment when he i3 laid in his last resting-place. The funerals of the paor are even mors touching fo behold. A singlo priest, perhaps, performs -the chant, and half ¢ dozen rourners, représenting the lit- ‘tle household, besr between them the cof which is composed of the chewe ‘material, covered with white muslin. en a person of distinguished position dies, the funeral proces- sion becomes an imposing spectacle, with the Bishop and priest in their gorgeous sacordotal Tobes, numerous lighted csudles, and martiat music. Ionce saw the body of a vanmpels Bishop of the Greek ~Church cari in procession through —ihe streets of Athens. He was gested in his Bishop's chair, clevated sbove the people, snd was clothed in his canonical fobes, with mitre orr head and the crosier uplifted in his hand. A cloth around the forehead bound it to the back of the chair, but not sufficiently close to &xevnnk thehead from bobbing upand down, ss if the deed. man’s pale and rigid features were saluting, far tho last time, the people among whom he ox- ercised his holy offica for over threescore years.. In this position he wos placed in the grave, & peculiar bonor eccorded to his' ecclesiastical renk. Tho dead—chiefly from climatic consid- erations—are buried within twenty-four hours of their decease. This is veri“uhocfing to foreign ideas; but the custom come 0 be complied with within less time than the law re- uires. Indeed the feeling is, that the sooner the painfal duty is over, and the house freed from the distressing spectacle of a*corpse, the sooner will the minds of the mourners be re- Tieved from association with what is repulsive, and return to the inward contemplation of their friend, as they knmew him in life. Thns it often Lappens that the first _ inc timation of & death is conveyed in the:printed invitation to the funmersl. , I -have con- versed with & gentleman at an evening party, who sppeared to bd in the highest enjoyment of ghysica!henllh, and the day following witneased is interment, he heving expiredin the mesn- time from epoplexy. Ihad once a business ap- pointment with & near neighbor, and,.on going to falfil it, met his dead body coming down the door-steps. I was sitting one eveningat the ‘bedside of a distinguished American missionary, who was describing to me his peculiar malady, and thenext afternoon Isaw him Iaid in the Protestant Cemetery. The modern Greek may well exclaim with the ancient Greek : Tho knows what fortanes on to-morrow walt, Since Chiarmis one day well 1o us appeared, And on the next was mournfally interred It is the custom, after the deceass of the occupant, to drape the interior of the house with mourping. I have seen every articls of furniture, from piano to footstool, draped in black, and even s small streamer ofcng;n- tached to the Ley of the tobacco-box.—From. “)Modern Athens,” by Charles K. Tuckerman, in Schribner’s for Oclober. gt The Paper Hlunt. The first meet of the Quebec Paper Hunt took lace, 2t Point Levi Heights, yesterday morning. is Excellency, the Governor General, a keen Sporismen, was on the grounds, attended by Colonels Fletcher and Strange, B. A., and the ‘meet comprised about fifty of the best names and hardest riders of the city. The country run - over was all that could be desired by s fox hunter of five-barred-gate type, plenty of fances, hedg gaps, snd water. After a dsy of unmifiga:e} pleasure, the party returned to town pretty well fatigned.—Quebec Chronicle. ; _It'is to French sportsmen that the credit is due of finding 2 harmlees substitute for hare ond fox hunting. To see two_score of gentle- men on strong horses pursuing a poor little panting creatura for a whole afternoon, is some- thing so contemptible that it is a wonder this so-called sport has 8o long survived the kindred amuscments of bear and bull-baiting. Tha ‘paper hunt sbove mentioned, which affords more sport without any unmanly cruelty is carried om a8 follows : B A first-rate rider on a fast and powerfal horsa scts off with a Lag of paper cut a3 fine as theat- rical snow, which falis little by little throngh a hole, along the course he takes and the object of the chase is to follow and catch him. tail of paper serves instead of scent, and the huntsman’s eyes instead of dogs. There it alsa some kind of trophy instesd of the -fox’s brush won and borne by the most suces hunta- man. The doublings, and windings, and rao- ings, and chasings, and hair-breadth edcapes,and desperate leaps of sucha chase afl enongh, aod many wonld think more enough, without involving the torture of ® hunted animal. A New German Kingdom. The palpable policy of Prussis, sincs Bise marck's h2s become the ruling mind, has been to absorb the smaller principalities of ‘Germany one by onein order to build up s mighty Em~ pire under the sceptre of & sovereign of the Houce of Brandenburg. Westphalia, the Lhine - provinces, Hesse, Nassau, Ianover, Schleswig- Holstein, Lauenburg, and Hohenzollern have thus been annexed, and it is scarcely doubtful that other States will be dealt with in the same manner. It is somewhat startling, then, the in- - timation conveyed through the Frankfort Ga~ zelle, that there is an intention, on the advice or Tather with the pormission of Bismarck, to an- vex the newly acquired provinces,. Alsace and Lorraine, to the Grand Duchy of Baden, which would then be erected intoa Kingdom. A glance at the mep will show that the provinces in question (area, 5,580 square miles, lll;.ddpcpnh- tion, 1,507,219) ere exactly opposite Baden, the RLine Torming the actual a8 wall as the geo- graphical line of separation. At present Baden has an area of 5,851 sa\lmre miles and a popula~ tion of 1,434,970, Vith the new. provinces the ares would be 11,431 square miles, with 2,212,189 population. - This would make her the third in. - stead of the fifth power in Germany as regardy extent (Prussia ul Tavatia being above, and Wurt;mbe;gl:.nd Susony below ber in rtlz_z:e e spect), and the yourth in populai gaia, EBavariz, and s iom ey bar. The question, “ Why should Baden be thus extended and exelted ?” might bé answered by & referonce to the fact that Frederick L, reigning Grand Dulie, is the husband of the Princess ZLouisa, only daughter of William I., Emperor of Germany—a potentate who might wish to placa o royal diadem upon her head. ™ | — rnal \ or - o