The mixture of english and french fashions is, indeed, very curious at Paris; and whenever a frenchman wishes to be completely _à l’anglaise_, he generally contrives to make himself ridiculous. The equestrians sit on the necks of their horses, and turn out their toes, by way of imitating our manner of riding; and the grooms who attend them, whom they call “des jockés,” are dressed like our postilions; that is to say, in short waistcoats, richly laced with gold and silver, with a cap, ornamented in the same manner, and without any coat. The horses, generally speaking, are very bad, very ill trimmed, and worse managed. There are some handsome english carriages already arrived, and the french coachmakers copy our fashions as much as possible; but they are, as yet, far behind. The common run of vehicles is very indifferent. The handsomest equipage from London, loses much of its elegance here, from the slovenly manner in which it is sure to be kept by a french coachman; from the tail of the latter, which it is very difficult to persuade him to cut off; and from the shabby horses, usually furnished by the jobmen. Apropos, a very ridiculous circumstance occurred a few days ago. All foreigners are permitted (notwithstanding the republican prohibition to natives) to have arms on their carriages, and to give their usual liveries: of course, several of the english, allowed their servants to wear gold laced cocked hats. Would you believe it possible, that the government was apprehensive of these hats being taken for the badges, given to distinguish the constituted authorities; and that, on this ground, they have been forbidden by an express order of the police, issued with proper solemnity? Such is the simple truth. French generals, those renowned and distinguished warriors, are apprehensive of english footmen being taken for them. What a strange littleness in great minds. “Tantæne animis cœlestibus iræ?” I cannot help exclaiming with lord Chesterfield, “alas, poor human nature!”