With those visitors who find the night all too short and like to go when the sun is rising, a popular figure is the man who stands at the Jend of the Rue Montmartre furthest Is, dispensing fried potatoes. "THis pitch is well-chosen, for not only does he got the custom of the tired men who have driven their Produce from the country to" the markets, bat also he catches revellers from the heights of Montmartre who down to the Halles (Central Mar-Kets) to finish the night with a few Portions of the onion soup for which the restaurants in the neighbourhood of the "belly of Paris:"" as Zola called it, are celebrated. About three o'leek in the morning, the crowd round the cauldron of boiling oil in Which the potatoes' are fried is one of the most mixed that even cosmo. Politan. Paris. can provide." Tt eludes women in the very latest and most exshisive gowns, men in evening dress, brawny carmen, market Porters in blouses, and poor outcast to whom a handful of "frites" pro-ides the equivalent of a real meal. joking even with the mest villanous looking of the customers are usually two or three policemen taking {frugal supper before going home to bed after their spell of night duty; entirely. Pexliament, which hates religious topics will "about with the crowd." Overseas dwel= ers would be surprised. it they ightly could appreciate the mass lof bitter feeling which this. whole topic seems to have excited country. The MLP, hax been worried out of his lite by threats on one side oF one other
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.