n do without, we must dispense with. This is odd,
and strange, but not uninteresting, and affords scope for contrivance
and the exercise of influence and other administrative powers. The Grand
Seigneur does not mean to be troubled with anything; so there are no
bells, and no office, and no clerks. He is the only source, and if he is
approached, he shrugs his shoulders and gives you to understand that
you have your chambers for your money and must look to the servants.
Antonio starts off on an expedition for a pitcher of water and a towel,
with a faint hope of two towels; for each demand involves an expedition
to remote parts of the house. Then Antonio has so many rooms dependent
on him, that every door is a Scylla, and every window a Charybdis, as he
passes. A shrill, female voice, from the next room but one, calls
"Antonio! Antonio!" and that starts the parrot in the court yard, who
cries "Antonio! Antonio!" for several minutes. A deep, bass voice
mutters "Antonio!" in a more confidential tone; and last of all, an
unmistakably Northern voice attempts it, but ends in something between
Antonio and Anthony. He is gone a good while, and has evidently had
several episodes to his journey. But he is a good-natured fellow, speaks
a little French, very little English, and seems anxious to do his best.

I see the faces of my New York fellow-passengers from the west gallery,
and we come together and throw our acquisitions of information into a
common stock, and help one another. Mr. Miller's servant, who has been
here before, says there are baths and other conveniences round the
corner of the street; and, sending our bundles of thin clothes there, we
take advantage of the baths, with comfort. To be sure, we must go
through a billiard-room, where the Creoles are playing at the tables,
and the cockroaches playing under them, and through a drinking-room, and
a bowling-alley; but the baths are built in the open yard, protected by
blinds, well ventilated, and well supplied with water and toilet
apparatus.

With the comfort of a bath, and clothed in linen, with straw hats, we
walk back to Le Grand's, and enter the restaurant, for breakfast--the
breakfast of the country, at 10 o'clock. Here is a scene so pretty as
quite to make up for the defects of the chambers. The restaurant with
cool marble floor, walls twenty-four feet high, open rafters painted
blue, great windows open to the floor and looking into the Paseo, and
the floor nearly