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charge of four francs. I do not, however, prefer it to that at the Hôtel des Princes. The latter has a quiet, and a certain delightful air of French self-possession about it, which you may search for in vain among the English at Meurice's. Its dinners are admirable for five francs; its wines very superior, and its service is extremely comme-il-faut.

There is another form of Parisian eating, that may be fitly introduced here. It is furnished by a Trai. teur. Families sojourning here for a few months, find it particularly convenient. The usual custom is, to engage by the week or month, a traiteur to furnish breakfasts and dinners at a fixed price, and according to a regulated bill of fare. Thus may you often live extremely cheap, and extremely well. Sometimes, perhaps, you had better leave the bill of fare discre. tionary with the traiteur. Only say to him amiably, “furnish to me and my family of four, at five o'clock each day, as good a dinner as you can, for five francs, per palate. Such confidence on your part, often begets very pleasing results. You throw, as it were, a part of your happiness into the traiteur's power, and if he be Battiste, near the Palais Royal, your generosity will not be abused. Though the traiteur may cook far from your apartments, his dishes are always in the proper temperature. He serves them before you with as much finished regularity, as they are served at a table d'hôte, or restaurant. I doubt not you will often be gratified and startled, by his ingenuity in choosing, and regulating the order of your dishes. You fancy yourself reading therein, his knowledge of your character. You, moreover, often ex. perience the joy of doubtful anticipation, followed by an agreeable surprise. There is, perhaps, no moment in the life of a gourmand, more interesting than the interval between the consumption of one dish, and the arrival of its unknown successor. Hope, fear, confidence, doubt;—these are the battling emotions of that interregnum. The mere deposit, by the traiteur of his dish before him, does not put those emotions to flight; no, nor even the removal of the silver cover, for the combination is mysteriously French. It is not until the proper question is asked ;– Eh bien, mon ami, quel morceau piquant avez vous là ?' that tranquillity is restored. Happy he, if the traiteur smilingly respond ;-vol-au-vent à la financiere, monsieur.' It is however, only the gourmand who descends to the ignorant pleasure of surprise in unexpected dishes. Your accomplished epicure writes out his palate's programme beforehand, and he eats his first course with harmonious reference to those which are to follow.

Leaving the traiteur, let us now ascend, at once, to the highest class of Parisian restaurants.

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