ith your
merit and your name. Let me add, Sir, that you live on the first floor;
that your clothes and fit are excellent, and your charges moderate and
just; and, as a humble tribute of my admiration, permit me to lay these
volumes at your feet.

Your obliged, faithful servant,

M. A. TITMARSH.

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION.

About half of the sketches in these volumes have already appeared in
print, in various periodical works. A part of the text of one tale, and
the plots of two others, have been borrowed from French originals; the
other stories, which are, in the main, true, have been written upon
facts and characters that came within the Author's observation during a
residence in Paris.

As the remaining papers relate to public events which occurred during
the same period, or to Parisian Art and Literature, he has ventured to
give his publication the title which it bears.

LONDON, July 1, 1840.

AN INVASION OF FRANCE.

"Caesar venit in Galliam summa diligentia."

About twelve o'clock, just as the bell of the packet is tolling a
farewell to London Bridge, and warning off the blackguard-boys with the
newspapers, who have been shoving Times, Herald, Penny Paul-Pry, Penny
Satirist, Flare-up, and other abominations, into your face--just as
the bell has tolled, and the Jews, strangers, people-taking-leave-of
their families, and blackguard-boys aforesaid, are making a rush for the
narrow plank which conducts from the paddle-box of the "Emerald"
steamboat unto the quay--you perceive, staggering down Thames Street,
those two hackney-coaches, for the arrival of which you have been
praying, trembling, hoping, despairing, swearing--sw--, I beg your
pardon, I believe the word is not used in polite company--and
transpiring, for the last half-hour. Yes, at last, the two coaches draw
near, and from thence an awful number of trunks, children, carpet-bags,
nursery-maids, hat-boxes, band-boxes, bonnet-boxes, desks, cloaks, and
an affectionate wife, are discharged on the quay.

"Elizabeth, take care of Miss Jane," screams that worthy woman, who has
been for a fortnight employed in getting this tremendous body of troops
and baggage into marching order. "Hicks! Hicks! for heaven's sake mind
the babies!"--"George--Edward, sir, if you go near that porter with the
trunk, he will tumble down and kill you, you naughty boy!--My love, DO
take the cloaks and umbrellas, and give a hand to Fanny and Lucy; and