The French ladies attribute the want of freshness so remarkable in the toilettes of Englishwomen, to their crowded routes, and the knowledge of its being impossible for a robe, or at least of a greater portion of one than covers a bust, to be seen; which induces the fair wearers to economise, by rarely indulging in new dresses.

At Paris certain ladies of distinction open their salons, on one evening of each week, to a circle of their acquaintances, not too numerous to banish that ease and confidence which form the delight of society.  Each lady takes an evening for her receptions, and no one interferes with her arrangements by giving a party on the same night.  The individuals of each circle are thus in the habit of being continually in each other’s society; consequently the etiquette and formality, so genant among acquaintances who seldom meet, are banished.

To preserve the charm of these unceremonious reunions, strangers are seldom admitted to them, but are invited to the balls, dinners, or large parties, where they see French people en grande lenue, both in dress and manner, instead of penetrating into the more agreeable parties to which I have referred, where the graceful neglige of a demi-toilette prevails, and the lively causerie of the habitues de la maison supersedes the constraint of ceremony.

Such a society is precisely the sort of one that literary men would, I should suppose, like to mingle in, to unbend their minds from graver studies, and yet not pass their time unprofitably; for in it, politics, literature, and the fine arts, generally furnish the topics of conversation:  from which, however, the warmth of discussion, which too frequently renders politics a prohibited subject, is excluded, or the pedantry that sometimes spoils literary causerie is banished.

French people, male and female, talk well; give their opinions with readiness and vivacity; often striking out ideas as original as they are brilliant; highly suggestive to more profound thinkers, but which they dispense with as much prodigality as a spendthrift throws away his small coin, conscious of having more at his disposal.  Quick of perception, they jump, rather than march, to a conclusion, at which an Englishman or a German would arrive leisurely, enabled to tell all the particulars of the route, but which the Frenchman would know little of from having arrived by some shorter road.  This quickness of perception exempts them from the necessity of devoting much of the time and study which the English or Germans employ in forming opinions, but it also precludes their being able to reason as justly or as gravely on those they form.

Walked in the gardens of the Tuileries to-day.  What a contrast their frequenters offer to those of the Luxembourg!  In the Tuileries, the promenaders look as if they only walked there to display their tasteful dresses and pretty persons.