se myself by counting the number of hairpins which I
see lying on the foot-pavement. Oh! you need not laugh, it is very
curious, I assure you. I already had ideas for two essays--one on the
capital "I" in its relation to the English character, and another on the
physiology of the English "guillotine" window and the forms it affects,
not forgetting the circumstance that whenever an architect introduces a
French window into an English house, it invariably opens outwardly so as
to be well buffeted by the wind, instead of into the room as it should
do. Well, now I am beginning to think that I might write something on the
carelessness of Englishwomen in fastening up their hair, and the
phenomenal consumption of hairpins in England. For the consumption must
be enormous since the loss is so great, as I will show you.'

Then he proceeded to ocular demonstration. As we walked on for half an
hour or so, principally along roads bordered by the umbrageous gardens of
villa residences, we counted all the hairpins we could see. There were
about four dozen. And he was careful to point out that we had chiefly
followed a route where there was but a moderate amount of traffic.

Not one man in a thousand probably would have thought of counting the
lost hairpins in the streets; but then M. Zola is an observer, and if I
tell this anecdote, which some may think puerile, it is by way of
illustrating his powers of observation and the length to which he
occasionally carries them.

On one point, I told him, he was rather in the wrong. The great loss of
hairpins did not proceed so much from the carelessness of women in
fastening their hair, as from their 'pennywise and pound-foolish' system
of buying cheap hairpins with few and inefficient 'twists.' These cheap
hairpins never 'caught' properly in their coiled-up tresses. The women
went out, walked rapidly, tossed their heads perchance, and one at least
of their hairpins fell to the ground. Supposing one hundred women passed
along a certain road or street in the course of the day, it would not be
surprising to find that at least thirty hairpins were lost there. And I
concluded by saying that, to the best of my belief, the aforesaid
hairpins were 'made in Germany.'

Another thing which amused and interested M. Zola when he took his walks
around Norwood was to note the often curious and often high-sounding
names bestowed on villa residences. As a rule the smaller the place the
more grandiose the a