travel on continuously in a French train, as
the carriages are made very hot by steam, and French people object to
having the windows open at all, so the atmosphere gets almost
unbearable, according to our ideas.

We shan't have time to see much of Paris if we just stay the night
there, but as we drive through in a taxi-cab we can see how full of life
it is, though at this time of the year people do not sit out at the
little tables on the pavements late in the evening as they do in the
summer. There are taxi-cabs everywhere, and they all pass each other on
the right side, you notice, the opposite side from that which we use;
you will find this in all other foreign countries but Sweden, and in
some Provinces of Austria. Though Great Britain stands almost alone, in
this case she is certainly in the right, for the driver ought to be on
the side near the vehicle he is passing, and also the whip coming in the
middle of the street is less liable to flick anyone than if it was on
the pavement side.

The hotels in Paris are many and magnificent; when we arrive at one all
gilt and glitter, we ask for small rooms, as it is only for one night,
and are taken up to two tiny apartments simply crammed with furniture.
It is enough to make anyone laugh, for there is hardly room to turn
round. Both are alike. In each the bed is covered with a magnificent
yellow satin brocade coverlet; there is a large arm-chair, which quite
prevents the door of the huge wardrobe from opening. The washing-stand,
which has taps of hot and cold water, is crammed into a corner so that
one can hardly get at it. There is a writing-table with ink and
blotting-pad and everything else for writing, but no dressing-table and
nowhere at all to put one's brushes. Above the mantelpiece is a big
mirror, too high for you to look into, though I can peer round that
immense gilt clock to do my shaving. The rest of the mantelpiece is
taken up with heavy marble ornaments--utterly useless--and gilt
candlesticks. There is a telephone on the wall, and down this we can
give our orders into the hall. Luckily I know enough French to ask for
what we want, though if you stand giggling at me every word will go out
of my head when the man below inquires my wishes.

It is by means of this telephone I order breakfast for us both to be
sent up next morning. All we can get is coffee, or tea, with rolls and
butter and two poached or boiled eggs. You'll have to make this do. It
is the c