The chambermaid, who cares for your room; the washerwoman who brings you your linen; equally with my lady in her drawing room or in her carriage, is neatness itself, and not only that, but elegance itself. Condition is no excuse for outward slovenliness in Paris. The servants in the house always have white about the throat and wrist, and it _is_ white. And then their dresses are made with some degree of taste, and are worn in such a way as to make the cheapest and most common goods attractive. With the same eye to appearance, and with the devotion to comfort that is a part of French nature, the streets of Paris are the best kept in the world. I do not wonder that the Frenchman, condemned by business or other considerations to live in New York, considers himself a sort of Napoleon, after Waterloo, and New York his St. Helena. The streets of London are kept clean; the dirt from the throngs of horses and vehicles is carefully removed, and it is done thoroughly, but not so much because of cleanliness as for want of manure. The streets of Paris are kept absolutely clean, simply for comfort and appearance. The neatly polished boots of Monsieur and Madame must not be soiled on crossings, nor must the skirts of its women be made unwearable by dragging through dust and filth. The streets of New York would send a French woman to a mad-house--they are nasty enough to send any one there compelled to wade through them. [Illustration: QUEER--TO FRENCHMEN.] There are no people in the world who are so delightfully polite as the Parisians. I might say the French, but Paris is [Illustration: THE PORTE ST. MARTIN.] [Sidenote: TIBBITTS' ENGLISH.] France, and it is the same all over the country. It is a delight to be swindled by a French shopkeeper, man or woman, they do it so neatly and with such infinite grace. There is so much patience, so much suavity, such a general oiling of the rough places, and such a delightful smoothing out of creases. It is Monsieur who is the obliged party if you come into his place. He feels the honor that you have conferred upon him, and he makes you feel that he feels it. True, you pay for all this politeness, and pay for it at very high rates, but it is, like all high-priced commodities, very pleasant.