Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1889-10-23
SOME PARTISAN SKETCHES.
Drinking, Nobody Drunk
Model Omnibusses, Etc.

Paris Correspondence Atlanta Constitution
The most independent people I've seen in
Paris are the bootblacks. Il il very difScul,
thing to find one when you want him. You see
their neatly arranged chairs. with all Of the
appliances for polishing, on the corners, but
the bootblack is rarely at home. He has either
gone to luncheon or taking . promenade or
slipping his sirop at neighboring cafe. II he
happens to come up while you are looking at
his chair and wondering where he is be does
not condescend to solicit your custom. He is
above it He just drops into his chair, picks
up newspaper and yawns over it. IL you
nmidly suggest that Q "shine" is desired he
val look at you vacantly for q moment. slowly
iold ms paper. rise with great dignity and pro-
ceeo 70 give you the best polish for the sum of
Two cents that can be hoped for on this earth.
The bootblacks are men, some of them old
men ana they are as much artists with the
brush as many sculptors are with the chisel
Just give the bootblack an extra penny and he
VIII brush your clothes until they glitter like
poiitenese only equaled by the suavity and elo-
quence with which the London bootblack begs
You. almost with tears in his ewes to let him
shine your shoes.
MYSTERY.
have seen many things over here which
cannot comprehend. But the greatest mystery
OF all to me is how Q two hundred pound
Frenchman can sit in front Of cafe for hours
over tiny glass Of cognac-about a thimble
full-wlthout drinking it. 1t takes a French
man Tar longer to quaff q thimble full of brandy
than 1t does an Atlanta boy to wrap himself
around a schooner of beer. The main object
seems to be just to sit behind the brandy and
look or think and talk. The drinking is merely
an incident. When you ask for coffee the
oil krtv Al
and places it by the glass. and if you say mo
cognac, he simply stares at you IN dazed
way and leaves the brandy on the table. He
thinks surely there must be some mistake. 1t
passes the comprehension of French waiter
how any human being can possibly drink coffee
without dashing 1t with cognac. Victor Hugo
once said that the best way to see Paris life is
FROM THE TOP OF AN OMNIBUS
This is true. Take an omnibus at the Ma
deleine-ride through the bouleyards Capu-
cines, Des Italians, Monmartre, Pairsonire.
the most brilliant streets in Paris-and Won win
see thousands of Acknowledgement men and
women sitting in front Of the cafes under the
beautiful trees, slipping brandy, coffee and
slrops. You will not see anybody intoxicated
hide through the exterior bouleyards and YOU
Will see thousands Of working people-men,
women and chiidren-drinking cheap wines in
front of the cheap cafes and all sober and
cheerful The French people live at the cafes
and use their houses simply as sleeping places.
II there is any place like home in Paris have
failed to see it. The Frenchman's idea is to
work hard and FAST get through as quickly as
possible and then enjoy himself. Perhaps af-
ter all he has grasped the true philosophy of
existence. At any rate, people of all classes
seem to be prosperous and everybody spends
money.
Speaking Of omnibusses, the French system
Is the nnest 1 have ever seen. There are thirty
rnrlfa iv.D rte Al
from early morning till midnight. These pom
derous vehicles are drawn by big horses. three
abreast. and carry forty people inside and on
top. They go laundering along at a rapid rate
and don't stop for people TO get out of the way.
For two and half cents one can ride the en-
Ere length OF an omnibus route on top, and for
hve cents you can ride all over the city by pro-
curing at the starting point what is called "a
correspondence" round, red ticket which
must SIMPLY be shown to the conductors on the
various routes travelled
THE RAGPIcKERs' VILLA
Back OF the Orleans railway station and only
fsw moments walk from the famous Garden
OF Plants, is a little settlement called the Rag
Pickers' villa. The streets are alleyways and
the houses. which are about the size of rabbit
hutches, are marvels of quaintness. They are
built OF sticks and pieces of laths and boards
and rooted with bits of sardine and tobacco
boxes. These are the little patchwork palaces
OF scores OF Partisan rag pickers and there
these hard-working, honest toilers find rest
with their families after the labors of the day
and night. They are queer specimens of hu-
mainly, to be sure. 1t is the village of want
and squalor within the metropolis of wealth
and fashion, and no more like Paris than If
settlement OF another sphere. more curious
and interesting spot cannot be found in any
city In the world. 1t is, perhaps, an open ques-
ton whether there is more happiness in the
humble huts of the lowly chhfoniers than in the
stately structures in the Faubourg st. Honore.
THE BLACK CAT.
At the head of the Rue DIES Martyrs in
little side street, stands the cafe of the Black
Cat, the queerest house of entertainment in all
Paris 1t is a three-story building of stone.
painted black and discolored by time Itseems
to belong to the hoariest antiquity Dust-coy-
cred ivy creeps over the gloomy 'front.' and
through the bars behind the dark shutters
glimpses OF the somber interior give the place
the appearance of a prison. Half way up the
front of the building huge black cat, carved
Ill wood, with gilt sidewhiskers, looks mourn
tuily at you out of two big eyes of red glass
Carved figures OF black cats with their backs
bumped and their tails curled support the
big, red light over the door way. I entered
this time-stained legend and funercal place and
tlmldiy requested cup ofcoffee As quaffed
the black liquid my eyes wandered about the
room. On the quaint mantels and in inches
around the wall were carved figures of black
cast. Black cats, with fiery eyes, glared upon
me in bas relief. At the further end on the
darkened chamber hung large painting rep
resenting scores Of cats of all sizes and colors
who beneath a pale moon in the uncertain
hight seemed to be serenading a very large
black cat which had bumped himself on Jagged
rock rising in the background. To my left,
crouched upon table, was a huge live black
cat with his great green eyes fixed upon me,
and as he looked he seemed to be thinking:
We'll, how do you like the picture?"
The Black Cat is the great resort of rising
young artists and journalists, who assemble there
to drink wine, beer and coffee and to discuss
the old masters in literature and art saw
several OF these specimens, and these were
about as queer looking as the place. The
walters are dressed in the costume of the mem
bers of the academy of France in honor of
their distinguished, or to be distinguished,
customers. i could not help thinking of the
late Edgar A. Poe-and II struck me very
wildly that the Black Cat in stone was about
as weird and fanciful as the Black Cat in story
with the murder left out, of course, for, like a
wise man. paid my bill and tipped the acade-
mician in pink cutaway and black stockings
and gloomily strobe away.