Paris is always lively on the ey: 0° the Grand Prix, the climax of the season, but this week, despite the deplor.ble weather, the tide of visitors from the cou-ty and ab oad has reached hitherto unattained heights. Never have so many Americans come, say the travel agencies, and never has Paris been so much in favour with the British tourist. The result is hustle and animation in the streets, and congestion in the cafes, restaurants, and theatr.s. Heartrending tales of vain applications to hotelkeepers fr rooms are in circulation. Even Queen Maria Pia, the mother of the King of Portugal, has, like Louis XIV, nearly hid to wait. The proprietor of the hotel at which the Queen usually stays received a telegram a few days ago asking thet her favourite suite should be reserved for her; bu every room was engaged, and it was not without great diffi-nity that, after three days' search, he found fairly isfacto y quarters for the Queen. On ess august visitors the operation of the laws of supply and demand is being impressed with great effect. The hun: ry, arriving late at restaurants, are sent empty away. Onmnibusses seem (o be always fall, are unapproachable. Every day one sees well-intentioned Enalishinen standing on the kerbstone, beckoning féebly and finally walking ciple s away with wonder and indignation striving for the mastery in thei ds, while cabs by the dozen crawl pst This is: the Paris driver's harvest-time. A couple of months hence he will be quite anxious to drive you; but-now, feeling that he em pick snd. choose, he will not look at you unless thinks you are good for generous tip or are prepared to pay a louis cheerfully for the privilege of being driven to Long-champs racecourse. On Sundays, at this time of the year, the official fares seem t" be entirely suspended. Of course, if the driver is refractory, one can get into the exh and demand to be conveyed to the nearest police-station, but the plan is not to be recommended, except to those in search of excitement and well acquainted with the Parisian tongue, An Imaginary Philanthropist.
The chief sufferer in " Great Week " is not the fare" but the horse. His con dition is unaffected by the march of progress. He is still underfed, overdriven, brutally thrashed, and made to work without regard to lameness, aotes, or debility. There may be hume drivers in Paris, but the supply is lim ted deed. Not long ago; readers of a typical Paris newspaper were regaled wih an interesting story about a kind-hear: edeabman. Ho always fed his here well, saw that it was nicely shod, never whipped it and never used language likely to hurt its feelings, Tu point of fact, he adoral horses in general and his' own in particular. One day, syeing passing confrere in the act of thrashing his stood, he protested. The confrere retorted by calling him an old slipper (which is very contemptuous in French) and, when asked for an explanation, aggravated the offence by reference to old Wipper-linings. This was more than the apostle of humanity could stand. Ho lashed out with his whip at the insulter, who responded in kind; the two horses took fright, dashed off and overturned both cabs. The wicked driver escaped unhurt, rogrotfully added the chronicler, but' the good one broke his log and was taken to the hospital. This distressing tale so. worked upon the. foolings of sundry English and American readers of another journal that they sent donat ing to over £20, for the injured man. Inquiries were made, but though the hospital was found, the patient was not. The good cabman existed only in the ingenious writer's imagination.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.