The Birmingham age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1902-1950, 1910-07-26
Special Correspondence of the New Yor

Evening Post.
~ ARTS, July 24.-"Oh the inunda-
~ lions are away off now" Pari-
i SLAMS say. But traces of them
are still here, traces which give certain
parts of the city charm they never
had before.
Who has not seen prints of old Paris
of the seventeenth and eighteenth CEN
turies-houses high and grotesque,
comparatively wide streets, masses OF
children or promenaders and myriads
of petits meters, side shows of fas-
cinating interest? Such street scenes
YOU never saw in modern Paris The
old houses were there, to be sure. but
the streets were always SO crowded
with vehicles that there was neither
time nor opportunity to look at ones
surroundings.
But now, after the floods, most of
the old streets near the Seine have had
to be repaved, and at the same time
II has been deemed advisable to tear
down the oldest tenements. And now
one suddenly comes across rue barree,
the exact reproduction of an old print,
for. in streets closed to general cir
culation, popular life reaches Its full
development.
The rope stretched from one bar
rel to another may prevent a carriage
from passing, but it cannot prevent
the pedestrian. And he comes in humid
red-fold. What matters it If carloads
of wooden blocks are being unloaded
and that attempts to pave the street
are being made, If the peppermint man
has decided to stop there? At. the
risk of quarreling with the bricklayer
and getting into trouble in general,
YOU simply must crowd around his cart
and his provision of sugar and vanilla
and all the other essences needed for
the CONNECTION of good peppermint.
| tiny stove is perched on a corner
of his cart, and on that stove there
| is a shining pan. One by one the drops
of pink, white, and green paste fall
on it, gradually they harden, to be
| taken off with care, put into bag and
ca gerly bought for two sous. There
| is a fascination in watching the maxi
ing of peppermint; you see eyes spar
kle and you know that every mouth
| is watering for the taste of one.
Where buildings have been torn down
the junk shop man spreads out his
wares. But he does not call 1T junk
he calls himself a marchand de vieux
souvenirs, a much more fitting name,
for that matter, since the things he
sells are full of old memories. He
| has stocks of daguerreotypes of good
ness knows who, bits of lace and silk,
ANTIQUE andirons and pieces of brass a
broken looking glass, much thumbed
volume Of Lessons in the Old Tesla
ment" in English, couple of oil paint
ings. Latin schoolbooks, and ever SC
| many carefully embroidered notices
addressed to my dear grandmother" or
my good uncle
| The oiseleur also sets up. shop. All
day long there is an entranced group
before his bird cages, and when he
tages out the birds and teaches them
to do tricks, admiration knows nc
bounds. The lottery man is there. and
you can gamble with sou and win
a cake If you are lucky. A little
farther down the street the strolling
musicians come along-not cheap mu-
sicians, like we see in New York. These
are students at the Conservatives
short of funds for the moment One
has a guitar, the other a mandolin
and the third sings. 1t is a soft, WE'LL
trained voice, and he sings gentle
sentimental songs. And partly through
his song, and partly on account of his
large soft hat, his flying silk tie. and
bagsing trousers. and soulful eyes, he
touches the hearts OF all the women
on the balconies who listen to him. and
reaps his reward in copious shower
OF pennies.
The evening, however, is children's
time. The streetpavers have left, but
all over there are enticing heaps Of
wooden paving blocks, which the chill.
dren .pounce upon like crowd OF crick
etc. Wonderful houses they build ir
a moment! More beautifu1 than the
castles of sand one sometimes see.
on the seashore Girls and boys WORK
with feverish haste to beat one an.
other, in a twinkle the monuments rise
.l--soon they are a. high a. the little