Paris, beyond the limits of the city, and of the Barrière de Charenton.

ENTREPRISE GÉNÉRALE DES OMNIBUS.

AFTER taking leave of M. Denault I was conducted by his piqueur to a large gate, over which was inscribed "Entreprise Générale des Omnibus."

On ringing the bell, a side door opening into a large court flew open, and almost at the same moment there stood right before me, in a white cap, an old withered concierge, with a face not very unlike that of Cerberus, who was evidently unwilling to admit me until she had been informed that I had come there by order of M. Denault, upon which, relieving her conscience by a very slight shrug, and then turning her bent back upon me, she hobbled into her lodge, and my conductor, seeing he had effected his object, with a friendly salute returned to his stables.

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The chef of the establishment, a short intelligent-looking gentleman, with a bushy, brushy beard, walked towards me and as, although he said nothing, his attitude was very clearly interrogatory of what I wanted, I very briefly explained that I wished to be permitted to walk over his workshops. He replied very kindly that I might go wherever I liked; and exactly as I desired, he then left me to speak to a workman who was evidently waiting for him.

In the yard before me there stood, with high poles, and rounded tires to the wheels, several new omnibuses, elegantly constructed and handsomely varnished, divided inside into seats for seventeen persons (the two next the door are not separated), with breadth of passage in the middle sufficient to allow passengers ample room to enter and depart without rubbing against the knee-pans of those who are seated. the roof was affixed a brass rod or hand-rail, to ensure rickety old gentlemen against reeling sideways into ladies' laps, and vice versâ. For the purpose of entrance were two broad easy steps; and on the left-hand back panel shone a transparent tell-tale dial, the black fingers of which,-in obedience to a

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string which, whenever any one enters, the conductor is obliged to pull, and which also strikes a bell "one,"-informs passengers inside, the public outside, and the proprietor at the end of the course or journey, how many fares have been received. In Paris omnibuses have no doors, or rather the door is formed by the conductor, who stands on the upper step of the entrance, leaning against a broad strap, which in an instant he can unhook, for the ingress or egress of the public.

In another part of the yard I observed near the wall three old, worn-out, dead, but not buried, "diligences," which in their day had been considered not only as vast improvements of the old form, but as imitations of the English mode of travelling. They were composed of four different sorts of carriages stuck together. The rear one, which was very low, held eight persons, four on each side, sitting with their shoulders towards the horses. The middle one six, sitting opposite to each other, three with their faces, and three with their backs, towards the horses. The front chariot three, above whose heads there grew out, like an immense fungus, a nondescript sort of cabriolet, with leather head and apron, for four more. Behind this rude thing was a frame-work to enable baggage to be piled up to a fearful height. As might reasonably be expected, the under part of these antiquated quadruple vehicles was as clumsily constructed as the superstructure I have just described. The wheels were low and heavy; the tires, in five separate pieces, flat, and of double the present breadth: the springs unelastic: the pole stuck cut little above the horses' knees.

By the side of these old-fashioned travelling-machines were, in various stages of construction, several new carriages, with improved wheels, axles, and poles, handsomely stuffed and painted, but on the same principle-rather inconsistent, I thought, with that of a republic-of dividing the travelling community into four separate uncomfortable compartments or cages; thus creating much unnecessary weight and expense. The carriages were certainly handsomely varnished; but, as compared with the light omnibuses at the other end of the yard, were like heavy over-dressed dowagers sitting behind the rising generation, "tripping on the light fantastic toe."

I was looking at several workmen, who, cooped within one

of these heavy vehicles, were ornamenting its drab cloth lining with handsome broad lace, when I observed the concierge opening the great gate to admit what at the moment formed, I thought, rather an affecting picture, namely, a lame 'bus coming into hospital. In some chance-medley it had been severely wounded in its side, and was now dragged forward by a low, punchy, light-hearted, merry little horse, who, on depositing it in the yard, was no sooner tied by his halter to a ring in the wall than, suddenly looking behind him, first on one side and then on the other, he began to neigh, as if he was determined that every living being in the establishment should know exactly how the accident had happened-" quorum pars magna fui"-in short, what an amazing deal, in some way or other, he had had to do with it. Nobody, however, listened to or even looked at him but myself.

From the yard I proceeded into the workshops, in which, with the assistance of a powerful steam-engine, a number of artificers were at work. Several circular saws, with a whizzing noise, were cutting out the main-frames of omnibuses in embryo, while three or four turning-lathes were as busily employed in preparing useful and ornamental work of different descriptions, the whole of which was quietly but very neatly ex

ecuted.

On entering the department of Vulcan, in which were several forges at work, I could not help being struck with the difference between French and English smiths, with the latter of whom I have had some little acquaintance. Both raise their sledge-hammers with equal vigour; but the effort of the French striker" seems to die away before it reaches the anvil; whereas in England with the momentum it invariably quickens. The same difference was apparent to me in heavy filing. The French workman makes a great effort to get the file into its position, and afterwards half gives it up. The English smith prepares gently, and then works spitefully. two words, the French smith appears to work very neatly indeed, but, as we should term it, to niggle.

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On entering a large shop, warmed by a stove, in which a number of men were busily employed in painting and in lining omnibuses, I observed a fine, tall, ruddy-faced, good humouredlooking man, with white mustachios, in a blue linen smockcoat and trowsers, who had at his back, towering a couple of

feet above his head, a machine, covered with crimson velvet, upon which were suspended on hooks four silver cups, like bells. Beneath them on each side of the man's hips there projected from the apparatus he was carrying a short silver-plated pipe, ending in a similarly resplendent tap. As he proceeded he at intervals rang a merry bell, which appeared to create universal thirst, for without a single exception the workmen at every carriage he came to stopped for a moment to drink off, when it came to their turn, what he gave them, which I observed sometimes to be in a large cup and sometimes in a little one, the different doses bearing no relation whatever to the difference in size of those who received them. In due time the crimson-velveted cask was drained dry, and, as the man walked with it into retirement behind the body of an old 'bus, I followed him, and after conversing with him about the weather, the Great Exhibition in London, and a variety of other little introductory subjects, I asked him at last to explain to me what he was selling, and what he charged for it. The answer to the first question almost spoke for itself; or rather, the pump beside us, and two pots of stuff, one dreadfully sour and the other of a sweet citron taste, explained to me that the mixture he was concocting was an innocent description of weak lemonade, which, while he was making it, I tasted, and paid him for with a piece of silver, that seemed at once to unlock the most secret recesses of his heart, and he accordingly told me that every workman in the establishment contracted with him for a glass of lemonade, as oftentimes per day as he thought proper to administer it. He said that, ringing his bell to announce his approach, he usually paid them three or four visits a day.

Mais quand il fait chaud, ma foi, Monsieur, bien souvent c'est cinq fois!"*

His charges for this luxury were, he informed me, eight sous (four pence) a fortnight for those who were satisfied with a little cup, ten sous a fortnight for those who generously allowed their stomachs the large one.

As the crimson-velveted machine was now full again, and as I also was replete with the information I desired, we both, like country actors when the curtain draws up, again appeared before the public. Tinkling his bell, he walked straight

* But when it gets hot, faith, Sir, it is often five times!

to the window of a green 'bus full of men lining it. I strolled towards an artist emblazoning with sundry ornaments the panels of a yellow one. After admiring the execution of his work, which caused his brush, I thought, to work with, if possible, a little more alacrity than before, I asked him, after a variety of small questions, what he thought of the revolution?

"Monsieur," he replied, "I gained a little fortune from it in painting out coronets. I have since gained still more by painting them in again. Ma foi, Monsieur," suddenly ceasing to paint, and looking in my face with a pleasing smile," I don't care how often we have a revolution !"

CAFÉ DE PARIS.

As whatever is worth doing is always worth doing well, at about half past six in the evening of my first day in Paris, I inquired all of a sudden of a French gentleman who was passing with me across a street, where was the best place to dine? and as, after enumerating several which I forgot as fast as he mentioned them, he ended by advising me, on the whole, if I liked a good dinner, to go to the Café de Paris, on the Boulevart des Italiens, I enjoyed the walk, and the reflection it gave rise to, and, in due time reaching my goal, I found myself comfortably seated in a small octagonal room, chastely painted, brilliantly illuminated by gaslights, reflected in and multiplied by plate glass, behind, before, in fact all around me. In this little chamber of Adonis, which looked into a larger saloon, were negligently scattered a quantity of small tables.

On entering I had very carefully bowed to the two presiding ladies of the establishment. I had selected a seat, had deposited my hat and stick in perfect safety, and, pleased to think how admirably and almost intuitively I had done it all, I was going to take a long, placid, comfortable look at every body and every thing around me,-for in my little den there were evidently a great number of bodies and of things