March is to their brewers what October is to ours. This _bierre de Mars_ (from the month, I presume) one would suppose exclusively military, from the numerous coloured prints stuck on the window-shutters of most _cabarets_, representing officers and soldiers in the acts of drawing, pouring out, or drinking this favourite tipple. The most common of these represents two officers in _grande tenue_, plumed hats, swords by their sides, spurs on the heel, &c., seated at a small round table. Each holds in the right hand an uncorked bottle, in the left a tumbler, the _bierre_ rising in a jet from the bottles, forming two intersecting arches, terminating precisely in the opposite and apposite tumblers. The shutters frequently bear both pictorial and scriptorial annunciations not a little amusing. I have seen numbers on our march, but thought no more of them; and it was only the other day, at Courbevoie, that “_audevie à vandre_” upon a shutter gave rise to the idea of making a collection of them. The universal “_Ici on loge à pied et à cheval_” is parallel to our entertainment for man and horse. I have before noticed that on arriving here we found all the gentry fled. That was not quite the truth. A few days since I discovered that a certain handsome house, in Bull’s quarter of the village, is still inhabited by the proprietor, an old lady of seventy (la Marquise de * * *), very partial to, because somehow connected with, the English, and therefore remaining at home in full confidence of good treatment. She has judged rightly; not a soul has trespassed upon her except as visitors, of which she is very proud, and holds a sort of daily levee, which we sometimes find a convenient lounge. Brought up in the Court of Louis XVI., Madame la Marquise is a strict observer of all the etiquette of the old _régime_. A light active figure, and a natural (or perhaps assumed) sprightliness of manner, added to a very juvenile costume, give her at a little distance quite the appearance of a girl. A nearer approach, however, spite of rouge, &c., most liberally applied, betrays the _septuagénaire_. At my first visit I found this extraordinary old woman alone, dressed, and evidently expecting visitors. I introduced myself, and was received with almost affectionate kindness. Our _tête-à-tête_ was a long one, for she would make me listen to the whole of her family history, and how one of her ancestors, having married some English lady of rank, she considers herself _à moitié Anglaise_. She was not content with telling me her history, but showed me her whole house and gardens (both very handsome and in excellent order), even her own boudoir, _chambre à coucher_, &c. On taking leave she exacted a promise of being a good neighbour, which I have endeavoured to perform by devoting to her a small portion of my leisure time. It is to her that I am obliged for breaking the spell that bound me to the village, and at last _visiting Paris_. The other morning she