there is a contrast in the matter of order and system; the lack of both
in London is apparent. You detect it in public places, in crowds, in the
streets. The "social evil" is bad enough in its demonstrations in Paris:
it is twice as offensive in London. I have never seen a drunken woman in
Paris: I saw many of them in the daytime in London. I saw men and
women fight in the streets,--a man kick and pound a woman; and nobody
interfered. There is a brutal streak in the Anglo-Saxon, I fear,--a
downright animal coarseness, that does not exhibit itself the other side
of the Channel. It is a proverb, that the London policemen are never
at hand. The stout fellows with their clubs look as if they might do
service; but what a contrast they are to the Paris sergents de ville!
The latter, with his dress-coat, cocked hat, long rapier, white gloves,
neat, polite, attentive, alert,--always with the manner of a jesuit
turned soldier,--you learn to trust very much, if not respect; and you
feel perfectly secure that he will protect you, and give you your rights
in any corner of Paris. It does look as if he might slip that slender
rapier through your body in a second, and pull it out and wipe it,
and not move a muscle; but I don't think he would do it unless he were
directly ordered to. He would not be likely to knock you down and drag
you out, in mistake for the rowdy who was assaulting you.

A great contrast between the habits of the people of London and Paris is
shown by their eating and drinking. Paris is brilliant with cafes: all
the world frequents them to sip coffee (and too often absinthe), read
the papers, and gossip over the news; take them away, as all travelers
know, and Paris would not know itself. There is not a cafe in London:
instead of cafes, there are gin-mills; instead of light wine, there is
heavy beer. The restaurants and restaurant life are as different as can
be. You can get anything you wish in Paris: you can live very cheaply or
very dearly, as you like. The range is more limited in London. I do not
fancy the usual run of Paris restaurants. You get a great deal for your
money, in variety and quantity; but you don't exactly know what it is:
and in time you tire of odds and ends, which destroy your hunger without
exactly satisfying you. For myself, after a pretty good run of French
cookery (and it beats the world for making the most out of little), when
I sat down again to what the eminently respectable waiter in whi