Or if anything in your
speech or manners pleases him, he laughs in your face. But in Paris, the
Frenchman never is guilty of so ill-bred an action as to laugh at
anybody in his presence, however provoking the occasion. If you are lost
and inquire the way, he will run half a mile to show you, and will not
even hear of thanks, I remember once in Liverpool asking in a
barber's-shop the way to the Waterloo hotel. A person present, who was
so well-dressed that I supposed him a gentleman, said that he was going
that way and would show me. I replied that I could find the spot, the
street having been pointed out by the barber. The "gentleman" persisted
in accompanying me. When we reached the hotel I thanked him, but he was
not to be shaken off. He raised his hat and said, "I hope I may have the
happiness of drinking wine with you!" I was angry at such meanness, and
I gave him a decided negative. "But," he persisted, "you will drink ale
with me?" I replied, "I never drink ale." "But," said he, "you will give
_me_ a glass?" This persistence was so disgusting that I told the man I
would give him in charge of the police as an impostor if he did not
leave, which he did at this hint, instantly.

The only time that I ever experienced anything but politeness in Paris,
was when in a great hurry I chanced to hit a workman with a basket upon
his head. The concussion was so great that the basket was dashed to the
pavement. He turned round very slowly, and with a grin upon his
countenance said, "Thank you, sir!" This was politeness with a little
too much sarcasm. It was spoken so finely that I burst into a laugh, and
the Frenchman joined me in it.

The shop-keepers of Paris are a very polite class, and are as avaricious
as they are polite. The habit which they have of asking a higher price
than they expect to get is a bad one. It is a notorious fact that
foreigners in Paris can rarely buy an article so cheaply as a native.
There are always quantities of verdant Englishmen visiting Paris, and
the temptation to cheat them is too great to be resisted by the
wide-awake shop-keepers. Besides, it satisfies a grudge they all have
against Englishmen. I always found it an excellent way not to buy until
the shop keeper had lowered his price considerably. Sometimes I state my
country, and the saleswoman would roguishly pretend that for that reason
she reduced the price. I remember stopping once in the Palais Royal to
gaze at some pretty chains in th