e window. A black-eyed little woman came
to the door, and I asked the price of a ring which struck my fancy. She
gave it, and I shook my head, telling her that in the country which I
came from I could get such a ring for less money. She wanted to know the
name of my country, and when I told her it was America, she said in a
charming manner, "Oh! you come from the grand republic! you shall have
the ring for so many francs," naming a sum far less than she had at
first asked. Of course, I did not suppose she sacrificed a _sou_ for the
sake of my country, but it showed how apt are the Paris shop-keepers at
making excuses. An Englishman or American would have solemnly declared
he would not take a penny less--and then very coolly give the lie to his
assertion; at any rate, I have seen English and American tradesman do
so.

A majority of the shop-keepers of Paris are women, and many of them
young and pretty. I certainly have seen more beauty of face in the shops
than on the Boulevards of Paris. Young girls from the ages of fifteen to
twenty-five, are usually the clerks in all the shops, which are often
presided over by a grown-up woman who is mistress of the establishment,
her husband being by no means the first man in the establishment, but
rather a silent partner.

The grisettes are often girls of industry and great good-nature, but the
morals of the class are lamentably low. They are easily seduced from the
path of right, and are led to form temporary alliances with men, very
often the students of the Latin Quarter. They rarely degrade themselves
for money or for such considerations, but it is for love or pleasure
that they fall. They are given to adventures and intrigues, until they
become the steady paramours of men, and then they are true and constant.
Often they are kept and regarded more like wives than mistresses. I
should not do entire justice to this class if I were to convey the idea
that all of them are thus debauched. Many marry poor young men, but such
is not usually the case; a poor young man seeks a wife with a small
dowry. They have little hope of wedded life--it will never offer itself
to them. Their shop-life is dreary, monotonous, and sometimes exacting.
If they will desert it, pleasure presents an enticing picture; a life of
idleness, dancing, and a round of amusements.

I was very much struck by a remark made to me by one of the purest men
in France--that a Frenchman is more apt to be jealous of his mi