"Joy! joy!" cried I, on looking out of the window yesterday, and
spying Arnaud returning from the post office with a letter, which,
according to our wishes, proved to be from our naughty Jane. Arrant
scribbler that I am, I hasten to answer it, though you must feel you
do not deserve to be replied to so speedily. However, as this is the
first time you have been negligent, we ought not to be relentless--so
here is my _hand_ in token of forgiveness and good will; but beware of
repeating the offence.
Having finished my lecture, and knowing you are fond of listening to
adventures, I will now recount a droll one that happened to us last
evening. At sunset we were walking on the Boulevard du Temple, which
abounds in every variety of the lower order of amusements, when
suddenly a violent shower began to fall, and of course every body to
scamper to some shelter. _We_ took refuge in the portico of an
illuminated building, entitled in large transparent letters over the
door, "Theàtre Mecanique," and finally determined to enter and witness
the acting within. We accordingly purchased tickets of the woman
employed to sell them, and following her up a narrow flight of stairs,
were ushered into a confined gallery, overlooking a dirty pit, the
highest grade of whose occupants seemed to be that of a cobbler. Four
tallow candles lighted the orchestra, where _two hard_ plying fiddlers
performed their tasks. We began to think we might be in "Alsatia!" and
then the actors and actresses! what were they? Why, a set of clumsy
wooden figures that tottered in and out, and were suspended by cords
so coarse, as to be visible even amidst the gloom that surrounded
them. A ventriloquist made these puppets appear very loquacious; and
whenever they stopped to make a speech it was quite ludicrous, for
they vacillated to and fro like the pendulum of a clock, for more than
a minute. We would have rejoiced to get out, but the rain still
poured, and we were compelled to remain. After the piece was
concluded, and the fiddlers had put up their instruments, and were
puffing out and pocketing the bits of candles, and we were reluctantly
preparing to issue forth into the storm, up came the above mentioned
vender of billets, (who it seems was manager likewise,) and calling to
the musicians to resume their operations, begged us to be re-seated,
in order to see the first act repeated, which we had lost by arriving
too late. We availed ourselves of her politeness and _honesty_, but
could scarcely refrain from laughing as we did so--and fortunately,
during the half hour that succeeded, the weather cleared, and we were
thus enabled to get home without the dreaded wetting; but the
Boulevards not being paved, the walking was exceedingly muddy, and it
was so long ere we reached a stand of carriages, that when we did, we
thought it more prudent to continue our route on foot, than to risk
sitting in our wet shoes.
As you may not know what is meant by the "_Boulevards_," I will tell
you. They are wide roads, or streets, edged with spreading umbrageous
elms, and formerly _bounded_ the city, but now, from its increase in
size, they are _within_ it. Their appellation of "Boulevards" is
derived from "bouler sur le vert," to "bowl upon the green"--being
once covered with turf, and the frequent scene of playing at bowls.
Here, nightly, the citizens forget the cares and labors of the day,
and resign themselves to pleasure and mirth. Rows of chairs, owned and
placed there by poor persons, may be hired for two sous a piece.
Adieu.