The Birmingham age-herald., 1911-04-17
From the London Post.

From the London Post.
 NARIS-For one whose bed room
 H looks out on one of the steep mar
 A row streets that lead up from the foot of Montmartre towards the Sacre Occur sleep is an accomplishment that
 needs long practice; all night long the
 roar of motors and the rumble of cabs
 on their way to the nigpt cafes, and the
 shouts of revelers. re-echo between the close-set rows of houses. At o'clock, however, the last of the merry makers are
 making their way down the hill, some to bed, others to take hot rum and milk in the bars near the Halles. others to take a breath of flesh air in the Bols after the
 poisonous atmosphere they have breathed
 all night, and to drink in the Pre- Catalan
 a glass of milk.
 For a time there is silence, which is
 soon disturbed by the clang of the dust
 boxes as the concierges deposit them
 along the pavement. An army of the
 most miserable specimens of humanity
 the "chiffoners" at once begins to rake
 among the refuse; ach "chiffonier' has
 his special beat, which by some indefin- able right he can sell when he retires
 and each morning voices are raised in
 shrill protest when one or another of the
 poor wretches, finding nothing of the slightest value In the poubeles (dust boxes) that are his own property, en- deavors to raid those of his neighbor Then perhaps you may fall asleep
 suddenly, blending with your dreams, et, af Do nj. rall v A strange "inexpressive" tune, one of
 those tunes that tell of mountain, pas
 lures and a sunny sea- It has neither
 beginning nor end, just like those songs
 that the Tuscan peasant sings in tie
 bright spring weather as he prunes his olives, and fills you with memories or Italy, of Sicily and Theocritus. If cu- riosity is strong enough to draw you to the window, you will see that the pas- toral has indeed invaded the heart of Paris Down. the hill, driving before him a little flock of goats, comes goat herd blowing lustily through his Pan pipe. They say that he is goatherd from the Pyrenees, but I have always preferred to believe that he comes from the sunny hills above the Riviera coast; for his tune tells of softer climate than that of the Pyrenees. Every morn ing in the summer he drives his flock down from the hill above to the poorer quarters, where he milks his goats be- fore the purchasers door.
 After he has passed all the street cries of the day break out. The little hand sbarrows piled with vegetables arc trundled up from the markets by the "marchandes des quatre-saisons," who cry "Quatre sous le kilo de Hollande" c'Potatoes twopence the kilo") in stac- cato tones, or enumerate their vegeta- bles, "Salade, choux, chicoree, mache, barbe. choux pommes," with the trad- ticnai infection. The fish seller has a special tune of her own, and there Is certain fascination in the cry:
 Tout 'en vie, la raie. tout 'en vie. Limande fire, fire!
 Hareng qui glace, hareg nouvenau!
 which announces skate. lemon soles and ! herrings.
 | Behind may come the groundsel seller with a sack full of the plants that cage
 
 "Groundsel for the little birds; fresh plantian; feed your little birdsr
 By this time the cries have become al- most a chorus; another fish seller has ar
 rived with whiting and soles, and her treble harmonizes more or less melo- diously with the bass of the basket seller,
 while a flower seller laden with feath-
 cry golden mimosa from the Riviera
 borrows touch of poetry from his Esweet-smelling burden. "voila du mimosa
 qu' embaume!'
 These and many other cries rise and fall fitfully amid the roar of traffic
 throughout the morning, but by noon
 they have for the most part ceased. After them a veritable host of old
 clothes merchants, whose gaze is only directed to the humber flats of the top
 stories, descends upon the street. calling "habits-habits," with allethe accent on
 the last syllable; each man gives the call a special rhymth. but they all run up the