Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1874-08-26
The Rich-PO0r OF Paris.

utIC II llp SllNi thiitS ''S hiNthShi IiiS
dimensions of a Frenchman's house. He
may live ut the top of IL magnificent white
marble palace in six rooms ut Il rent of
800 or 5000. And yet when you have
climbed up there, have sounded the bell.
and have been admitted into the hall, which
with its highly polished mirror will de-
ceive you at once in regard to size of the
little box, You are convinced that he rcvels
in luxury Opposite the hall glass, open
the folding doors into the parlor, which is
a long room with still more mirrors to aid
in increasing the perspe tive. Off this
room are vet other folding-doors, two of
them leading into the dining room, which
is always fitted up in exquisite taste, and
with studied carelessness, left visible to
the caller. Try the doors at the other side
of the room; it is hard to open them.
Probably locked? Most effectually locked. :.
They never move upon their hinges. Still
they are not quite rs useless as . a painted
ship upon painted ocean, for they serve
Il double purpose; they dispense with the
necessity of pictures TO fill up the bare
walls--for who would hang pictures on
doors ?-and they give one the impression
that vast apartments stretch beyond.
Madame will receive you in the most
chance to occur in the daytime. She has
Just arisen; won't YOU have coffee with her?
This if she means, by generous, courtesy.
to make Il friend of YOU. Now you find
yOur way into what she calls her private
apartment, which, like the other rooms,
opens into the pnrlor. 1t is really quite Il
gem in its way. You wish you were French,
or at least, that YOU might understand the
art of living as French people do. But Il
little closer acquaintance and a moderate
increase in your experience will teach YOU
that these people work and strive only for
sake of the appearance they make. They
comprehend what the elegances of life
consist of, and they will live without the
commonest necessities in order to deceive
YOU as to their real condition. A family
Of seven persons will actually live in two
small rooms. and make their beds up late
at night on the floor of the apartments in
which. but Il few moments before, they
were chatting with you upon the impossi
bility of economizing in Paris, since the
war Even they, in their modest style of
living find that it takes fortune now to
spend Il year in Paris. You are shocked
to hear them suggest that theirs is SIM
pie mode of life; you never thought of
being so fine ut home. In reality, these
people that | speak of live like pauper5.
thew sleep on the floor the year round, and
often on the kitchen floor at that. This
last is convenient, as they can get up and
put the coffee over the spirit-lamp, and re-
tire again until it is prepared. Coffee is
taken in bed of course.
For the benefit of the girls mt home, who
may admire and envy this lady of luxury
that gracously asks you into her boudoir
at IL clock, declaring she has just arisen
and invites you to take coffee with her, |
will tell them something of her toilets.
and the singular way in which they change
with the hours of the day. Madame goes
to market as early rs possible. Nobody is
out in the early morning-that is to say,
nobody before whom she cares 10 keep up
an a9pearance-and,a as the market-people
ALWAYS measure Il customer before setting
a price. it is wise to go to the market shah
bilv dressed. not only because no one will
see her, but us Il matter of economy. So
the toilet of the day is not made until this
duty has been performed. In exchange
for the great, AIRY, bathroom, with its
abundance of hot and cold water, and its
fresh, clean towels, which Americans can
not live without, madame has, in little
dark hole between the kitchen and her bed
room, Il pint of water in II basin the size
of tinger-bowl. For water is too precious
II commodity to be used unless sparingly
1t has to be carried from the street up five
flights of stairs, and a servant must be paid
five cents an hour to do it. No further ar
guments than these are necessary with
madame. With the aid of Il dirty little
towel, for clothes cannot be washed at
home-there is neither room nor water to
do it in these papier-mache boxes-our
lady will succeed in making herself very
tidy. l have really begun to wonder there
is not such thing us dry wash. At 10
the coiffeur comes, and madame's hair is
dressed, as, my dear, you never think of
having oyurs dressed, except it be for a
ball. If she chance to be Il little gray, the
hair is powdered after it has been arranged
in its intricate puffs, braids, and frizzes
A coiffeur costs but Il few sous, and this
dressing of the hair is, l believe, the
stronghold of French women. 1 know
that it made IL profound impression upon
me. | shall never forget the feeling of
hattered vanity and unutterable gratitude
[ experienced when such a fine lady invi-
ted US to make her house our home. If
we could put up with their simplicity, and
make ourselves comfortable in her room,
she would gladly move into another apart
ment. All this was to be granted because
of the very favorable impression we had
made upon her. It would he SO disagree
able for us to move into IN ordinary board
ing house. This should be like home to
US.
Home indeed. l have my doubts if there
be many such things in Paris, except where
some Americans have made their nests for
a few years. This matter of home, l am
coming to think, is purely American. The
English cannot make one; they find such
repose only in house which their ances-
tors have occupied. An American will
make a little room home in a single day
Chicago Iribune's Correspondence,