There are many places in the Palais Royal, the basement floor of which, fronting upon the court of the palace, is given up to shops, where for two or three francs a dinner can be purchased which will consist of soup, two dishes from a large list at choice, a dessert, and bread and wine.  There are places, indeed, where for twenty-five sous a dinner sufficient to satisfy one’s hunger can be purchased, but I must confess that while in Paris I could never yet make up my mind to patronize a cheap restaurant.  I knew too well, by the tales of more experienced Parisians, the shifts to which the cook of one of these cheap establishments is sometimes reduced to produce an attractive dish.  The material sometimes would not bear a close examination—­much less the cuisine.

[Illustration:  JARDIN DU PALAIS ROYAL.]

I was astonished to see the quantities of bread devoured by the frequenters of the eating-houses, but I soon equaled my neighbors.  Paris bread is the best in the world, or at least, it is the most palatable I ever tasted.  It is made in rolls six feet long, and sometimes I have seen it eight feet long.  Before now, I have seen a couple dining near the corner of a room, with their roll of bread thrown like a cane against the wall, and as often as they wanted a fresh slice, the roll was very coolly brought over and decapitated.  The Frenchman eats little meat, but enormously of the staff of life.  The chocolate and coffee which are to be had in the French cafes, are very delicious, and though after a fair and long trial I never could like French cookery as well as the English, yet I would not for a moment pretend that any cooks in the world equal those of Paris in the art of imparting exquisite flavor to a dish.  It is quite common for the French to use brandy in their coffee.

People who take apartments in Paris often prefer to have their meals sent to their private rooms, and by a special bargain this is done by any of the restaurants, but more especially by a class of houses called traiteurs, whose chief business is to furnish cooked dishes to families in their own homes.  In going to a hotel in Paris, the stranger never feels in the slightest degree bound to get his meals there.  He hires his room and that is all, and goes where he pleases.  The cafes are in the best portions of the town, magnificent places, often exceeding in splendor the restaurants.  They furnish coffee, chocolate, all manner of ices and fruits, and cigars.  At these places one meets well-dressed ladies, and more than once in them I have seen well-dressed women smoking cigarettes.  Love intrigues are carried on at these places, for a Paris lady can easily steal from her home to such a place under cover of the night.  A majority, however, of the women to be seen at such places, are those who have no position in society, the wandering nymphs of the night, or the poor grisettes.  It is not strange that the poor shop-girl is easily attracted to such gorgeous places by men far above her in station.