The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1918-02-21

ParlS, FEB. 20.-"WelI boys, We'll
soon be in Gay P'reew
We knew from his grin and his
gleeful eye, that this was the lanky
young Americans first visit to Paris
that, like most of us, he had gained
his earliest impressions of France
from postcard pictures of naive,
scantlly lingeried young women kick
ing at chandeliers, and that he ex-
pocted to step right off the train into
swlrling saturnalia of cussedness.
His Gay P'ree" never did exist. but
We had an aching apprehension that
the truly gay Paris which we had
known and loved, would be sombre
and sad; for the tremendous cour-
age with which she has met these
past dreadful years must certainly
have been at the sacrifice of her
bright and happy spirit. We feared
to see Paris in her depression.
Depression? Why, the boulevards
are thronged and there is laughter,
and the bells of the cab horses Jingle
as merrily as if the big cannon were
rot ceaslelessly pounding and roar
ing less than 70 miles away; the
shop windows blaze with such a col
lection of precious gems as Aladdin
never saw. and the boulevarder,
though huddled now against the
wintry chill in blue uniform, sits
as of old. at his little table beneath
the dripping awning Of a sidewalk
cafe, and sips his hot coffee, while
the world swarms by him on the
pave. He's just back from the
trenches on leave-his medals show
that-but to look at his face you
would never know there was war,
nor that there was or had been any
grim thought in his mind. His
cheeks are pink, and his nustaches
are nattily curled, and he has a
dancing eye for each pretty woman
who passes. Everybody walks now
and since practically every motor We
hicle has been Communicated for
military PURPOSES. Amid the kalei-
doscopic uniforms of all the allies,
as the procession iostles and chattors
past, there are mingled the snappv
little boulevard girls, considerably in
evidence but not much more so than
of OLD. and the shop girls. and an
entirely new element: the grand
dame, Yes, the grand dame walks.
too, and is cheerful about it; and
pampered pets now walk which never
soiled their naws before. AS the phil
osophical Frenchman says, with
smile and a shrug of his shoulders:
"But, yes. it is the war"
Of course there are p fex' taxls,
run principally by ex-soldidrs who
have earned the right to become cl-.
villains.
But you are not lordly with a taxi
driver any more: you do not stand at
the curb, hold up your finger until
taxi races to your feet, brusquelv
give YOUR direction, step in. ana
slam the door; not so! You wait un-
til one stops in YOUR block. or the
next one. to DISCHARGE n passenger,
then YOU rush to it imploringly, and
tell the potentate where YOU would
like tn go. If he cares about driving
into that neiehhorhood, away YOU
rattle l;ketv-split ct a hair raising
sreed: it rests entirely with him.
however, whether he will wait TO
brine you back. AS likely as not, lie
won't.
The reason lies not in any lack Of
interest in YOUR wei
fare, but in the fact that he is only
allowed so many litres of Essence"
per day, and he must make every
spoonful count. Naturally. mutual
necessity promotes the flow of the
milk of human kindness.
We had an important errand, and
r,r she'd to meet the first taxi which
stopped at the curb, but the lady