arter drains. During the eighteen years of the Second Empire,
Paris reached a height of material prosperity and of dazzling
brilliance which she has never known before nor since. The undisputed
social capital of Europe, the equally undisputed capital of literature
and art, the great pleasure-city of the world, she stood alone and
without a rival. "La Ville Lumiere!" My mother remembered the Paris of
her youth as a place of tortuous, abominably paved, dimly lit streets,
poisoned with atrocious smells; this glittering town of palaces and
broad white avenues was mainly the creation of Napoleon III. himself,
aided by Baron Georges Haussmann and the engineer Adolphe Alphand, who
between them evolved and made the splendid Paris that we know.

We loved the Tuileries gardens, a most attractive place for children in
those days. There were swings and merry-go-rounds; there were stalls
where hot brioches and gaufres were to be bought; there were, above
all, little marionette theatres where the most fascinating dramas were
enacted. Our enjoyment of these performances was rather marred by our
anxious nurse, who was always terrified lest there should be "something
French" in the little plays; something quite unfitted for the eyes and
ears of two staid little Britons. As the worthy woman was a most
indifferent French scholar, we were often hurried away quite
unnecessarily from the most innocuous performances when our faithful
watch-dog scented the approach of "something French." All the shops
attracted us, but especially the delightful toy-shops. Here, again, we
were seldom allowed to linger, our trusty guardian being obsessed with
the idea that the toy-shops might include amongst their wares
"something French." She was perfectly right; there WAS often something
"very French," but my brother and I had always seen it and noted it
before we were moved off from the windows.

I wonder if any "marchands de coco" still survive in Paris. "Coco" had
nothing to do with cocoa, but was a most mawkish beverage compounded
principally of liquorice and water. The attraction about it lay in the
great tank the vendor carried strapped to his back. This tank was
covered with red velvet and gold tinsel, and was surmounted with a
number of little tinkling silver bells. In addition to that, the
"marchand de coco" carried all over him dozens of silver goblets, or,
at all events, goblets that looked like silver, in which he handed out
his insipid brew. Who