the street is as narrow as a narrow alley, feebly lighted, and has no sidewalks.  And the rutty paving stones which stretch from housefront to housefront are crawling with people and goats and dogs and children.  Finally, to add zest to the affair,there are lots of loose cows mooning about—­for at this hour the cowherd brings his stock to the doors of his patrons.  In an Italian city the people get their milk from a cow, instead of from a milkman as with us.  The milk is delivered on the hoof, so to speak.

The grown-ups refuse to make way for you to pass and the swarming young ones repay you for not killing them by pelting pebbles and less pleasant things into your face.  Beggars in all degrees of filth and deformity and repulsiveness run alongside the carriage in imminent danger from the wheels, begging for alms.  If you give them something they curse you for not giving them more, and if you give them nothing they spit at you for a base dog of a heretic.

But then, what could you naturally expect from a population that thinks a fried cuttlefish is edible and a beefsteak is not?

Chapter XIV

That Gay Paresis

As you walk along the Rue de la Paix [Footnote:  The X being one of the few silent things in France.] and pay and pay, and keep on paying, your eye is constantly engaged by two inscriptions that occur and recur with the utmost frequency.  One of these appears in nearly every shopwindow and over nearly every shopdoor.  It says: 

English Spoken Here.

This, I may tell you, is one of the few absolutely truthful and dependable statements encountered by the tourist in the French capital.  Invariably English is spoken here.  It is spoken here during all the hours of the day and until far Into the dusk of the evening; spoken loudly, clearly, distinctly, hopefully, hopelessly, stridently, hoarsely, despondently, despairingly and finally profanely by Americans who are trying to make somebody round the place understand what they are driving at.

The other inscription is carved, painted or printed on all public buildings, on most monuments, and on many private establishments as well.  It is the motto of the French Republic, reading as follows: 

Liberality!  Economy!  Frugality!
[Footnote:  Free translation.]

The first word of this—­the Liberality part—­is applicable to the foreigner and is aimed directly at him as a prayer, an injunction and a command; while the rest of it—­the Economy and the Frugality —­is competently attended to by the Parisians themselves.  The foreigner has only to be sufficiently liberal and he is assured of a flattering reception wheresoever his straying footsteps may carry him, whether in Paris or in the provinces; but wheresoever those feet of his do carry him he will find a people distinguished by a frugality and inspired by an economy of the frugalest and most economical character conceivable.