Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1900-09-01
Three Thousand Dead Ones Replaced
Annually.
AVERAGE AGE ABOUT EIGHT YEARS
Tourists All Love the Sidewalk
Cafes.
ENORMOUS SUMS IN TAXES
special Correspondence of The Evening Star.

| to a row of trees along each curb; when the
| width passes 11S feet 1t has right to two
| rows, and when a width of 1872 feet Is
reached they generally establish a planted
| plateau in the middle Of the road, with
| shaded alleys on each side Of 1t.
"Yet it's cruelty to vegetation to plant
| trees In such a soil as this" said the po-
| liceman to me, as We stood looking at the
| transportation Of full-grown horse chest
nut. ''The average age OF a tree In this
| city is not eight years. Every year they
are obliged to replace 5000 dead ones. You
| foreigners complain that prices are high in
| Paris. Where do you suppose the money
| comes from to do all this sort of thing?"
| This policeman knew all about the trees
| because he once worked In the municipal
pepiniere. There are $1,000 trees in Paris,
| according to the latest census, where up to
| the year 1880 there were only 5000. Every
| ton to the growth Of the Paris streets,
| which means that the shady capital is con-
tinually augmenting its shadiness
Both the policeman and myself got talk
| ing to the boss of the planting outht. do
| these trees come dear to the city, he re-
| peated. II should say they do. A tree or
| the value of one dollar in the nursery, with
| all its accessories, Its pole, its iron corset,
| its grill and its drainage costs, in the
| street as much S35, and its care repre-
sents an annual expense OF sixty cents. ne
saying that 1t is as cheap to walk in the
| shade as to walk in the sun never origin
| ated In this city"
| Certainly the Parisians are a great peo-
pie for government positions. This police
man told me that he had three OF MS ram
| lily in official employment
Half Profits Only.
neutrality-suspicious. thousands-of Ameri-
can residents and tourists have become in
terested in the business tribulations of one
x1rhn hpnn
papers from a Boulevard kiosque during
the past thirty years. 1t is the well-known
and much respected Madame Veuve) Du-
perren whose perfect English and great
friendliness for Americans nave made ner
corner of the Boulevard and the Rue Scribe
almost a place of rendezvous for our people.
During a quarter of a century this Old lady
has built up fine business there. Yet she
has never had the kiosque in her own
name.
These stands are supposed to be given out
to the deserving, particularly the widows
of old non-commissioned officers. As fact.
they are given out to the wives and WIDOWS
of deputies and other influential folks. VINO
rent them on hard terms, to the old women
who stand by them in all weather.
1t thus happens that Madame hyperion
has never ceased to be visited, once a
month by some elegant lady In black.
| coming in her carriage, to collect half the
profits Of her labor. Some years ago when
| the then titulaire Of the stand died. the
| American minister, Mr.. Whitelaw Reid.
| himself attempted to interest the French
government in Madame Duperron. Practical
| politics were too strong, however The
| place had already been promised All the
! government could concede to Madame Du-
| perron and the American minister was the
! guarantee that she should be allowed to do
! the work and draw half profits from the
| kiosque.
| Chief Charm of Paris.
The cafe chairs and tables of the side
fzp hot rhn
tourist Immediately agrees we ought to
| adopt at home They form the most dis
tinctive feature Of the Paris promenade.
They give its Partisan brightness to the
| boulevard Imagine the great boulevard
! without its hundreds of rich, ultra-respect-
| able~cafes extending their coquettsh little
! chairs and tables halfway TO the curb
| beneath their gorgeous awnings: IL Woulu
| be picture of barrennesS ana deSolatlon
| Sitting in the grateful shade of these side
| walk terraces as they are called, have
| often heard the following conversation be-
tween Americans:
| "What is the real charm of Paris? What
| do YOU find it to be yourself? You do not
| frequent its dance halls, its night restau-
| rants or any part of its gay life You sell
| dom go to the theater. You are not par
ticularly interested in art. You are not
! pursuing any study. Why do you cling 10
this town as the only place to live in?
| 1T must be the atmosphere, the feeble
| answer comes les IL ihuo@ Do 'i-e "S
| mosphere.'"
| What atmosphere"
"Oh. say the atmosphere Of leisure, OF
observation and contemplation, OF ease ana
| seIf-indulgence, of the brightness and JOY
Of living"
| Joy of living, do you?
mo, but like to see it
| Where do you see itT
| ooh, on the street.
Then. if the old Paris resident is left to
90 on and explain himself, 1t is ten to one
that he will make the care terraces Oh e airs aa
| the keystone of the Partisan temple or de-
| light. The tourist comes to feel the same
| about them.
"Why can't we sit out on the sidewalk
| at homer he inquiries valnly.
| Because of the roughs and toughs,
| "Because it would be too pleasant.
| Because our American women VIII not
do their share toward purifying inns pun
| respectable If they would frequent them
They might transform the American saloon
| into CHEEKY, bright and honest Partisan
| cafe, had they the courage anu lAe eheisy
| to attempt it."
| Chair and Table Taxed.
| know of no more pleasant occupation
for an idle hour than to sit thus ION the
| Paris sidewalk underneath cafes hut-
| terins awning, with a glass of lemonade,
| of syrup and water, or coffee, or chocolate
or beer, or one of the Partisan apertitifs
| (sirup. bitters and Ice water), vaguely
! glancing at the passing throng. II it be
absnthe that the idler has before him.
| slowly the tired feeling will go from him.
| The backbone will feel strengthened. The
! tree leaves that had seemed yellow Will take
| on a fairer green. The cab horses that had
been plodding will seem to hike along with
a Evelier dash. The pretty girls that pass,
who had seemed somewhat painted up and
overpowdered, become dazzling. And as
the blue-red Paris twilight creeps up, with
the lighting of the street lamps, the long
streaks of light on the wet asphalt flicker
and the growing murmur Of the great wax
ing night-life tunes the filled soul to
vague consciousness of happiness. No Won
der some put off the dinner hour till pm.
Now every cafe chair and table on the
Partisan sidewalk pays its tax to the mu-
nicipality. The total annual profit from this
source is put down in the budget at 4,OOO,-
900 francs $500, 000). To this must be added
another annual total Of 100000 francs
(S36O 0OO), coming from the rental of those
cheap 2-cent iron armchairs that are scat
tered everywhere throughout the city, in
the parks and promenades, out in the Bots
and even on the broader, shadier streets.
No one cries for rest in vain. You find a
place to sit at every turn.
STERLING HELLO.
Danger in Too Good Health.