front teeth, and side whiskers, generally beloved of the French
artist, bears to the typical Englishman. Take, for example, the
drawing of French workpeople at dinner (page 8), made from a sketch
in a Belleville _café_. There is no exaggeration here, but a literal
transcript from life, which reveals, as it were, in one flash, a
whole epitome of town life in working France.

[Illustration]

Consider again his drawings of Parisian types. No portrait could
more nicely hit off the characteristic slouch of the _piou-piou_
(as Tommy Atkins is called in France), nor catch with more delicate
charm the personality of the French grisette of a certain type, than
the pencil drawing "Vive l'Armée" (page 49). Not less clever are the
pen-and-ink sketches of familiar types which surround the larger
figures on this last-named page--like them, the result of humorous
observation of many individuals. Reynolds tells quaint stories of
his adventures with the sketch-book in the pages of which are to
be found the hurried notes--often but a few strokes and scratches
intended to serve as a mnemonic--upon which his finished drawings
and sketches were based. Frequently he would stalk an imposing
Sergent de Ville, or Cuirassier with resplendent helmet and flowing
horse-hair plume, for miles along the boulevards, making furtive
notes, when opportunities presented themselves and conditions were
favourable, of the details of epaulettes, buttons, cuffs, and all
the other paraphernalia. In the same way his many sketches of the
Paris _cocher_ necessitated frequent drives in an open carriage,
during which careful studies could be made of the ample back of the
typical French cabman, and of the flowing folds of his usually
voluminous neck.