s, but ponderous machines, containing fifteen
passengers inside, more in the cabriolet, and vast towers of luggage on
the roof: others are loading: the yard is filled with passengers coming
or departing;--bustling porters and screaming commissionaires. These
latter seize you as you descend from your place,--twenty cards are
thrust into your hand, and as many voices, jabbering with inconceivable
swiftness, shriek into your ear, "Dis way, sare; are you for ze' 'Otel
of Rhin?' 'Hotel de l'Amiraute!'--'Hotel Bristol,' sare!--Monsieur,
'l'Hotel de Lille?' Sacr-rrre 'nom de Dieu, laissez passer ce petit,
monsieur! Ow mosh loggish ave you, sare?"

And now, if you are a stranger in Paris, listen to the words of
Titmarsh.--If you cannot speak a syllable of French, and love English
comfort, clean rooms, breakfasts, and waiters; if you would have
plentiful dinners, and are not particular (as how should you be?)
concerning wine; if, in this foreign country, you WILL have your English
companions, your porter, your friend, and your brandy-and-water--do not
listen to any of these commissioner fellows, but with your best English
accent, shout out boldly, "MEURICE!" and straightway a man will step
forward to conduct you to the Rue de Rivoli.

Here you will find apartments at any price: a very neat room, for
instance, for three francs daily; an English breakfast of eternal boiled
eggs, or grilled ham; a nondescript dinner, profuse but cold; and a
society which will rejoice your heart. Here are young gentlemen from
the universities; young merchants on a lark; large families of nine
daughters, with fat father and mother; officers of dragoons, and
lawyers' clerks. The last time we dined at "Meurice's" we hobbed and
nobbed with no less a person than Mr. Moses, the celebrated bailiff of
Chancery Lane; Lord Brougham was on his right, and a clergyman's lady,
with a train of white-haired girls, sat on his left, wonderfully taken
with the diamond rings of the fascinating stranger!

It is, as you will perceive, an admirable way to see Paris, especially
if you spend your days reading the English papers at Galignani's, as
many of our foreign tourists do.

But all this is promiscuous, and not to the purpose. If,--to continue on
the subject of hotel choosing,--if you love quiet, heavy bills, and
the best table-d'hote in the city, go, O stranger! to the "Hotel des
Princes;" it is close to the Boulevard, and convenient for Frascati's.
The "Hotel Mir