In France every man plays at billiards--nay, every village has its
billiard tables, one of which is almost as frequent an article of
furniture in private houses, as piano-fortes are in England; and the
sign of two maces crossed, and the inscriptions "Cafè et Billards" are
as common over the wine-houses in the provinces, as chequers formerly
were in our own country towns. I remember meeting with a curious
adventure during my last residence in Paris. One morning, while
leisurely walking in _Rue Montmartre_, I was accosted in French, by a
respectably dressed man, apparently about fifty, who inquired of me the
situation of ---- street, (for at this moment I do not recollect the
name). I replied that, being a foreigner, I could not afford him the
required information, at the same time referring him to the next shop.
He did not follow my suggestion, but almost at the very instant my eye
caught the name of the street for which he had just inquired. The
stranger then told me that being on a visit to the capital, he was
anxious to see the interior of the palace of the Tuilleries, and was
proceeding to a friend resident in the above street, who had promised to
procure him admission to the royal residence, notwithstanding the king
was then in Paris. I congratulated him on his success, having been, a
few days previous, disappointed in the same object, when he offered also
to procure admission for myself and one or two of my friends. We
accordingly entered a second rate _cafè_, when, I made up to the
_garçon_ and demanded of him whether orders for viewing the Tuilleries
were to be obtained there: he made no reply, but my friend of the
street, who had by this time partly ascended a staircase at the
extremity of the room, beckoned, and anxiously besought me to accompany
him. I did so, notwithstanding I was aware that Paris, as well as
London, had its "frauds." We entered a large room, the first impression
of which, on some minds, would have been that of terror. In the centre