s we passed, he consigned us, with a
graceful wave of the hand, to the care of Pierre, the _frotteur_. I took
him for some fragment of a _duc et pair_ of the old school; but, on
putting the question to _the frotteur_, who himself might have passed
for a _figurante_ at the opera, he informed us that he was '_Notre
bourgeois_,' the master of the hotel." It is quite wonderful to us how
Miladi could have survived to relate so shocking a metamorphosis. Ovid
has nothing half so strange and heart-rending.

The instances we have mentioned are far from being the only ones in
which her Ladyship was "put out of sorts" by the Anglomania, which, she
would make us believe, is operating at present as great a revolution in
the social, as was effected in '98 in the political condition of France.
All along the road from Calais to Paris, she sees nothing but "youths
galloping their horses in the cavalry costume of Hyde Park," "smart gigs
and natty dennets," "cottages of gentility, with white walls and green
shutters, and neat offices, rivalling the diversified orders of the
Wyatvilles of Islington and Highgate," in short, nothing but "English
neatness and propriety on every side," with one terrible exception,
however, "an Irish jaunting car!" of which she chanced, to her infinite
dismay, to catch a glimpse. The second appearance that she makes in the
streets of Paris, is for the purpose of buying some "_bonbons_,
_diablotins en papillotes_, _Pastilles de Nantes_, and other sugared
prettinesses," for which Parisian confectioners are so renowned.
Accordingly, she goes into a shop where she supposes that "fanciful
idealities, sweet nothings, candied epics and eclogues in spun sugar, so
light, and so perfumed as to resemble (was there ever such nonsense)
congealed odours, or a crystallization of the essence of sweet flowers,"
are to be sold, but on inquiry she is told by a "demoiselle behind the
counter, as neat as English muslin and French (what a wonder it wasn't
English) _tournure_ could make her," that 'we sell no such a ting,' but
that she might have 'de cracker, de bun, de plom-cake, de spice
gingerbread, de mutton and de mince pye, de crompet and de muffin, de
gelee of de calves foot, and de apple dumplin.' Reader, Lady Morgan "was
struck dumb!" She purchased a bundle of crackers, "hard enough to
_crack_ the teeth of an elephant," and hurried from the shop. But
misfortunes never come single, and her ladyship, though an exception to
mos