gayety, and throughout that mocking spirit which is so essentially French, making game alike of its own pain and that of others, and jeering always at the sight of an altar, never mind what may chance to be thereon, whether its own sacred things or those of others.  Half the words in the book are quaint, grotesque phrasings of two ideas—­ideas which most people on our side of the water are hardly inclined to joke about:  one is the idea of death, and the other the frailty or falseness of women.  One is specially struck by the wealth of words and the sameness of ideas, and, above all, by the quickwittedness that must belong to the people who can all catch a verbal allusion or suggestion as Anglo-Saxons might a plump, square hit.  Sometimes a little unconscious pathos mingles with the mocking vein, for courage is moving when it is light-hearted.  When a Frenchman tells you he has eaten nothing for two days, he adds, “Ca, ce n’est pas drole” ("Now, that’s no joke").  “Coeur d’artichaut” (a heart like an artichoke) is a felicitous expression for a person who has a succession of caprices and short-lived fancies; and there is something to the point in the satire which calls a surgical instrument “baume d’acier” (steel balm), or in the saying which mocks the credulous faith many people vaguely have in the efficacy of mineral waters:  “Croyez cela et buvez de l’eau” (Believe that and drink water).  There is something desperately significant in a language in which the lover who supports, protects and is deceived is called “le dessus,” and the one who is favored at his expense “le dessous;” while the words “une femme,” a woman, without qualification, are identical with frailty, and virtue, being the exception, demands an adjective to identify and proclaim it.

But there is something fine in the old French slang for the beginning of a war:  “La danse va commencer” (The dance is about to begin, or the ball to open), and this dates from time immemorial:  fighting has always been fun to Frenchmen.  And there is something better still in the phrase which has become an official one, and has a proper technical meaning, with which the orders of a naval officer when sent on a difficult or dangerous expedition always end.  “Debrouillez vous,” meaning simply “Come well out of it.”  There must be stuff in men who can be trusted to always extricate themselves from a tight place with credit to their flag without more words than that simple exhortation.  But one cannot say much for the morality of a country where, when any one says “la muette” (the dumb one), it is understood to mean conscience.

The instances are rare of resemblance between our slang phrases and theirs.  Once in a while such a phrase as “Asseyezvous dessus” (literally, Sit on him) strikes one; but seldom.  French slang teems with words that caricature and satirize personal defects, of which many are brutally coarse and not quotable.  A comical expression for a sumptuous meal is a “Balthazar” (Belshazzar); and