But without speaking further of the technology of the Umbrella, we will relate an anecdote which ran through all the minor journals of the Restoration, terminating like an apologue. We shall adopt the form and style of the time in our narrative of this little historic story, which should be entitled /The Sunshade and the Riflard/. One fair summer afternoon, the promenaders in the Parisian Champs Elysées might have seen, seated on a chair beside a pretty woman, whose interesting situation was plainly visible, a peaceable citizen making an inventory of all his pockets in their turn, without finding the purse from which he intended to draw the few halfpence which the chair-proprietress demanded. The search is useless; it is impossible for him to pay;--the proprietress indignant, almost rude, threatening to make a disturbance, is only satisfied by the gentleman taking from the hands of his companion a Sunshade of green silk, with fringes, mounted on a reed, and a yellow glove, and giving them to the irascible lady, saying to her, "Well, madam, keep this Sunshade as a pledge, and give it to no one unless he offer you a Glove the fellow of this." The pair departed, slowly arrived at the Place de la Révolution, then at the Boulevard de la Madeleine, when they were surprised by a violent shower; cabs were not to be had, the rain increased, they were forced to seek refuge underneath a carriage entrance. The peaceable citizen had already taken his companion to this shelter, when a "portier," with an otter-skin cap, came out, beseeching the lady and gentleman to accept the hospitality of his little room, where a leathern arm-chair and a stool were immediately, and with very good grace, offered to the invited pair. The rain still pouring down, the "portier," more and more affable, took from a corner of his small lodge a superb Umbrella of green serge, and offered it to his guests, declaring that all he had was at their service. The gentleman, in much confusion, accepted with many thanks the Umbrella, and sheltering with it the interesting young woman, who had tucked up her dress in the prettiest style, they both ventured out into the midst of the deluge.  . . . . An hour afterwards, a footman in very stylish livery returned to the honest "portier" cobbler his precious Umbrella, with four notes for a thousand francs, from the Duke de Berry; next directing his course to the Champs Elysées, that same footman sought out the chair-proprietress, and said to her: "You recognise this Glove, Madam? Here are four pence, which my lord, the Duke of Berry, has ordered me to remit to you, to redeem the Sunshade of the Princess Caroline." Touching and eternal legend of virtue, not without a recompense!