_Paris, Hotel de l'Université, près le Pont Royal_ It was well I did not tell my tale in my last, Fairfax; it would have been spoiled. I knew it only by halves. It has ended in the most singular combination of circumstances one could well imagine. You remember I told you of the arrival of Sir Arthur St. Ives, and his daughter; I believe it was in the postscript; and that I was immediately going to--Pshaw! I am beginning my story now at the wrong end. It is throughout exceedingly whimsical. Listen, and let amazement prop your open mouth. You must have observed the ease with which Frenchmen, though perfect strangers to each other, fall into familiar conversation; and become as intimate in a quarter of an hour, as if they had been acquainted their whole lives. This is a custom which I very much approve. But, like all other good things, it is liable to abuse. The other day I happened to be taking a walk on the Boulevards, it being a church festival, purposely to see the good Parisians in all their gaiety and glory; and a more cheerful, at least a more noisy people, do not, I believe, exist. As I was standing to admire a waxwork exhibition of all the famous highwaymen, and cut-throats, whose histories are most renowned in France, and listening to the fellow at the door, bawling--_Aux Voleurs! Aux grands Voleurs!_--Not a little amused with the murderous looks, darkness, dungeons, chains and petty horror which they had mimicked, a man uncommonly well-dressed, with an elegant person and pleasing manners, came up and immediately fell into discourse with me. I encouraged him, because he pleased me. We walked together, and had not conversed five minutes before, without seeming to seek an opportunity, he had informed me that he was the Marquis de Passy, and that he had left his carriage and attendants, because he like me took much pleasure in observing the hilarity of the holiday citizens. He had accosted me, he said, because he had a peculiar esteem for the English; of which nation he knew me to be, by my step and behaviour. We talked some time, and though he made no deep remarks, he was very communicative of anecdotes, which had come within his own knowledge, that painted the manners of the nation. Among other things, he told me it was not uncommon for valets to dress themselves in their masters clothes, when they supposed them to be at a distance, or otherwise engaged, assume their titles, and pass themselves upon the _Bourgeoisie_ and foreigners for counts, dukes, or princes. It was but this day fortnight, said he, that the Marechal de R--surprised one of his servants in a similar disguise, and with some jocularity publicly ordered the fellow to walk at his heels, then went to his carriage, and commanded him, full dressed as he was, to get up behind. He had scarcely ended this account before another person came up, and with an air of some authority asked him where his master was, what he did there, and other questions.