which the couturier plays, not only in Parisian life but in the life of the whole civilized world, is so important and so curious that I have thought it might interest the reader to see the great artist at home, surrounded by his customers and his assistants, and to catch a brief glimpse of the nature and peculiarities of the creature.  My description of the type will be in general, of course, but founded on exact observation of individuals.

The high-priests of Parisian fashion have their shrines up-stairs.  Where the highest perfection is aimed at, shops are nowhere.  The grand couturier makes no outside show.  You will find him occupying two or three floors in one of those plain, flat-fronted Restoration houses which line the Rue de la Paix, the Rue Taitbout, the Rue Louis-le-Grand, or the Faubourg St.-Honore.  Passing through a square porte-cochere as broad as it is high, you find on the right or left hand a glass door opening on a staircase covered with a thick red carpet.  On the landings are divans, and sometimes a palm of a dracaena.  Through an open door on the ground-floor you see the packing-room, where marvels of silk and lace are being enveloped in mountains of tissue-paper to be sent to the four quarters of the globe; on the first floor, or entresol, are workrooms full of girls seated at long tables and sewing under the directing eye of a severe-looking matron; on the second floor are generally situated the show- and reception-rooms.  The first saloon is sombre:  the ceiling appears, in the daytime, blackened by gas; the walls are wainscoted in imitation ebony with gold fillets, and large panels above the chair-rail are filled with verdure tapestries of the most dismal green, chosen expressly to throw into relief the freshness and gayety of the dresses; on the chimney-piece, and reflected in the glass, is a clock surmounted by a monumental statue of Diana in nickeled imitation bronze and flanked by two immense candelabra; along the walls are two or three large wardrobes with looking-glass doors; in the middle of the room is a table for displaying materials, with a few chairs, and in one corner a desk, where is seated M. Cyprien or M. Alexandre, the bookkeeper.  In this room the customers are received by a tall and very elegant young lady, invariably dressed in black satin in winter and black silk in summer.  Through this soft-spoken person, who bears the title of premiere vendeuse, or first saleswoman, the customers are put into communication either with the great artist himself or simply with one of the premieres, or heads of departments, if their orders are not of sufficient importance to justify an interruption of the great man in his innumerable and absorbing occupations.  Opening out of this first saloon are a number of smaller saloons, all equally sombre, colorless, and shabby-looking, especially by daylight.  There are extra show-rooms and trying-on-rooms, besides which there is a special