The Northern Daily Times.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1853-10-11 00:00:00

SERIALS OF THE MONTH.*

THIS is, doubtless, one of the best and most ably
conducted of the monthly serials. The present
number is really a gem in its way; and the poetical
contributions from the exquisite pen of the well-
known D. F. M'Carthy, and others, stand unri-
valled for real poetic .beauty. Dr. Hinck's paper
on the " Nimrod Obelisk" exhibits considerable
oriental scholarship ; and Dr. Faber's essay on the
" Cities of the Plain" will be found not less inte-
resting and instructive by the lover of antiquarian
lore. The subject matter of the various articles is
considerably diversified, so that all tastes will be
certain to find something to feed upon,—
" From grave to gay—from lively to serene."
Perhaps the most humoursome paper is that by
some jovial veteran, who gives his notion of a late
trip to the Boulevards, and who, with that peculiar
naiveté characteristic of his class, relates much that
he had heard and seen " there and back again."
The opening paragraph is so quaint that, for the
benefit of all intended travellers, we will quote it.
We beg, however, to assure Mr. Murray, the excel-
lent publisher of the Hand-Books of Travel, that we
have_no malice prepense in doing so :

"Never be in a hurry" when you travel, either for instruc-
tion, health, or amusement. Reader, observe this maxim
and you will be a gainer. We do not mean hereby to
recommend you to select a parliamentary train in preference
to the express, albeit the former is the safest, and supplies
less work for the coroner ; yet almost every body rushes
madly on in an agony of speed, and doubly so when they
have no defined object in view, with time and money at
command. There are only three sound conditions under
which it is necessary or desirable to emulate the electric
telegraph : when you expect promotion for carrying home
despatches announcing a victory ; when you are summoned
to the bedside of a dying friend ; and when you are on
your way to take possession of a legacy or an estate. ,itt
all other times, look around you as well as in front,
and stop whenever you have an opportunity. There is
scarcely an obscure nook in which you may not find some-
thing to reward delay. The greatest discoverieshavebeen made
by leaving the beaten tracks and going into by-paths. Also,
avoid guide-books and local ciceroni—dull companions,
who rob you of the charm of exploring for yourselves, and
tell you nothing but,what you knew before, or can easily,
find out without them. Again, when you venture into
strange lands, look not for the familiar faces of Regent-street,
or the accents of your cherished vernacular, but rub up your
rusty French, German, or Italian, as they may be alter-
nately required ; live with the citizen of the soil, and learn
something of his ways. Lastly, if you wish to enjoy your-
self' thoroughly, take things as you find theni ; submit to be
moderately fleeced (as you will be whether or no) without
losing your temper or writing a:letter to the Tines, and give
up the delusion, in which you have probably grown old, that
you are wiser than your neighbours, and, in fact, the repre-
sentative Solomon of the nineteenth century. We think
it is Rochefoucault who says, 'Le vrai moyen d'etre trompe,
c'est de se croire plus fin que les autres (The sure mode of
being deceived, is to believe ourselves to be more cunning
and clever than the rest of the world.) This same Rouche-
foucault, was a courtier, a wit, and a little of a roue besides;
but he wrote keen, practical, philosophy, understood human
nature, and knew how to turn life to the best account."
Our gallant veteran, having some spare time
hanging on his hands, sets out on a joint voyage of
pleasure and business to the gay Parisian metro-
polis. Our traveller is not a stranger on French
ground—though long years have elapsed since last
he trod it. He thus speaks of Paris eight and
thirty years ago :7-
"We remember it when there was no street with a pave-
ment for foot passengers, except the ' Rue de la Paix ' and
before gas had superseded the ancient lamps suspended by
ropes, which inflicted darkness visible rather than available
light. Augustus boasted that he found Rome a city of

brick, and left it of marble. George IV. said something to
the same effect as regarded London, during his own short
reign. The improvements of Paris, completed and in pro-
gress, are worthy of a similar eulogium. Thirty-eight years
ago, the iuditer of this gossip formed a very insignificant
faction of a mighty whole which marched along the Boule-
vards, under the shadow of the stately trees, now sacrificed
to liberty and equality, with drums beating, and the stan-
dards of various nations fluttering in the breeze, arrayed in
the proud panoply of war, gorgeous in glittering uniforms,
and swelling with recent conquest. Such a gittin' up
stairs' has never been seen again, and can scarcely be looked
for above once in twenty generations. Many tens of thou-
sands who look past in that stirring scene have been
gathered in by the sickle which spares no one ; while we,
with other survivors, have long subsided into the noiseless
obscurity of the half-pay list—useless encumbrances, held in
holy detestation by Joseph Hume and the economists, who
think we are called upon, ;as disinterested patriots, to die
simultaneously by common consent, at the conclusion of the
great war. We had done our work, and should have de-
parted with it."
The writer not only philosophises, but solilo-
quises and moralises at pleasure. He is likewise
" up" in the classics, and doubtless exercises skill
in-the application of that sort of lore. This will
be at once perceptible upon perusing the introduc-
tion to a most amusing incident, which we beg to
recommend to the attention of the author of
" New Readings," and the learned Editor of" Notes
and Queries !"—of course not forgetting the sapient
reader—

"From London to Dover (now by a ridiculous recent affec-
tation changed into Dovor), the express whirls you in two hours.
Having time on hand before the packet sailed, I walked up
to Shakspeare Cliff," and, when I reached the summit,
repeated the immortal bard's description to myself, the
crows, and the murmuring surge,' as in duty bound. The
Cliff must have declined in height since that beautiful
imagery was composed, or is indebted to the genius of the
poet for exaggerated proportions. My thoughts reverted to
Suniuni and. Leucadia, the temples of Minerva and Apollo,
Falconer's Shipwreck,' and the sacrifice of the love-sick
Sappho. I had seen both the classic headlands of Greece,
and thought them more formidable. I looked for the sam-
phire gatherers, but either they had gone to dinner, or the
dreadful trade' has ceased its dangerous attractions. While
I was indulging in rumination, ' the world forgetting, by
the world forgot,' a worthy official of the coast-guard, whose
station was close by, and singularly ill-placed for patrolling
the beach below, came up and accosted me. He 'informed
me that I was standing on a very celebrated spot. To this
I assented readily_; and then inquired if he could tell me of
anything remarkable that had ever happened there.
I" o,yes,' he returned, ' the Duke of Gloucester was
going to throw himself over, only Mr. Shakspeare would not
let him.

"'How long ago did this happen ? '
A good many years.
'"What Duke of Gloucester ? ' I ventured to ask, hesita-
_

whis question puzzled my informant for a moment.
He had never heard but of two, the late Silly Billy,' and
Richard of evil fame, with the hump-back. He knew, and
had often seen them both—the first in person, the last by
deputy, on the stage. He could not be quite positive which,
but one of these it was most certainly. Noting down
this new reading of King Lear, as a valuable contribution
to the next volume of Shakspeare's notes and corrigenda, I
descended to the steamer and embarked."
Our author crosses over to Calais—from thence
right on to the gay 'city, vividly painting the
scenery as he passes, and enlivening it with his-
torical associations. We shall halt with him at
the station house hall, along with a motley group
of travellers :

"Arrived at Paris, and while you are waiting in the hall
of the station-house, until your luggage is announced as
ready for the inspection of the custom-house officers, who
give very little trouble, you will be amused by the various
advertisements affixed to the walls, generally accompanied
by an English translation, of which the following may be
considered as a specimen:--" The omnibus to the all wards
of Paris ; also a hired coach, to hold four, six, or eight per-
sons when it pleases." The constant influx of English
visitors has caused the language of our nation to be almost
as indispensable as French, but the Saxon idiom is some-
times a little de-composed. I read in the printed list, at a
cafe restaurant, in one of the most frequented quarters, this
notice :—" As the waiter is responsible for the all things, if
broken it will be charged in the bill at his just price." And
in more than one shop window appears this startling an-
nouncement :—" The:English spiked here." Polyglot ad-
vertisements are ingenious and convenient, and are becoming
popular everywhere, in London as well as on the Continent.
The best of thitkind that ever appeared, was placed under
the signboard of a frontier inn, but I cannot recollect the
exact locality :

" ' In questa casa troverete
Tout ceque I'on pent souhaiter,
Vinum, panem, pisces, carries,
Coaches, chaises, horses, harness

Net follows a humoursome description of a
scene enacted at Meurice's Hotel—which hotel is
commended both for the reasonableness of the
charges, and the excellence of the table d'hote,
by the way, matters worthy of no small note in
those days of unreasonable fleecing—for which see
the Times for the past three months. But we are
digressing :
" The gue.sts being English, all think themselves called
upon to speak, or try to speak, French, in compliment to
France. The waiters being French, all endeavour to deliver
themselves in English, in compliment to England. This
interchange of the 'entente cordiale,' leads to a vast disburse-
ment.of unintelligible babel, making it sometimes diffiCult to
obtain what you want, and in the midst of which we once
heard an irascible Londoner roar out-4 Garsong, d-- your
eyes, bring me tine serviette !' "
After gratifying our curiosity with an elegant de-
scription of the public buildings in Paris, and Con-
trasting them with the dingy sights' of our own

metropolis—our agreeable traveller proceeds to
notice the politesse of the English and Continental
nations, which he illustrates by, examples :

" A Frenchman is habitually Courteous and polite to all
strangers requiring information.- He will go a hundred yards
to direct a bewildered foreigner who has lost his bearings.
Not so in England. In nine cases out of ten, it is better to
trust to chance than to ventnre questions. If you ask a
passer-by which is William-street, either he is a stranger,
or can't tell, or he is disobliging, and wont. Once in York-
shire. I civilly requested a lout, who was swinging on a gate,
in all the lazy luxury of independence, to tell me the road
to Barnsley. He took his pipe deliberately from his mouth,
said, in his barbarous 'patois, " Go and ax;" and then burst
into a horse-laugh at his own wit. I was strongly tempted
to humanize him with a horsewhip ; but, unluckily he was
the abler of the two. The incident' contrasts fearfully
with the polished urbanity of a Tuscan peasant, who
being asked by a traveller to direct him on the way
to Sienna, replied in musical accents and a poetical
strain, not unworthy of Tasso or Guarini, Pam&
it flume, salite it mode, la 81 trovra Sienna. The other
day, in Paris, I gave an individual, who looked like
a beggar, a couple of sous. He had not asked for alms,
but his face implied that he 'would receive a donation. He
took off what had once been a cocked hat, ;bowed nearly to
the ground, and with a full flourish of the -right arm, said,
' Monsieur, je vous remereia au nom de la nation entiere'—
(I thank you, sir, in the name of the whole nation.")
We shall not tire the reader's patience further
than to give one other extract on the relative
merits of the public vehicles of Paris and London :

"Public vehicles of all kinds are much better regulated in
Paris than in London. There is one uniform fare for, a set-
down to any part of the city, with a trifle to the driver,
technically called a ' pour 'the—something to drink. A
penny suffices for this gratuity. In London it is impossible
to get in or out of a cab without a dispute, and this annoy-
ance is not likely to be remedied by the new act. Your
Paris Jehu is a more considerate animal than London
Cabby, and seldom ' tries it
,on,' even on a foreigner. If
you meet with an exception, tell him to drive you to the
prefecture de police,' which, he dares not refuse, and he
gives in at once. He would rather resign a day's work than
face that dreaded tribunal, which invariably decides against
him, no matter what may be the merits of the case. The
carriages are cleaner, more comfortable than ours, and are
driven at a slow pace, an incalculable advantage to pedestrians,
who have no emulation to be run over unless by free choice, as
Hindoo fanatics purposely throw themselves in the way to be
crushed under the car of Juggernaut. In London, you require
one pair of eyes at least, before you venture on a crossing. A
cab in Paris costs twelve-pence halfpenny for a single
" course " anywhere within the boundary, and carries four
persons at this rate ; if engaged by the hazer, the charge is
eighteen-pence. The city being circular, there is scarcely
any distance amounting to five miles ; the entire circumfer-
ence, without reckoning the suburbs, is not more than
fifteen. A honest ' cocher ' asked me if it was true, as he
had heard, that the cabmen' had lately made a revolution
in England, and obtained a parliament of their own. I ex-
plained to him as well as I could, the particulars of the late
strike, and how his brethren of the whip had gained nothing,
but lost several days' work by their folly. It was useless,
for he evidently considered his version of the affair to be
nearer the truth than mine." .