The Cockaynes in Paris; Or, 'Gone abroad'

heir better acquaintance. We have ventured hitherto only to take a few discreet and distant glimpses a

. It is true that every shilling of the money had been made by Cockayne, that every penny-piece represented a bit of soap which he had manufactured for the better cleansing of his generation. But this highly honourable fact, to the credit of poor Cockayne, albeit it was unpleasant to the nostrils of Mrs. C. when she had skimmed some of the richest of the Clapham crême into her drawing-room, did not abate her resolve to put at least three farthings of the penny into her pocket, for her uses and tho

mself, now he had retired. He was much better tempered when he went off to business by the nine o'clock omnibus every morning; and before he had given himself such ridiculous airs, and put himself on all kinds of committees he didn't understand anything about, and taken to make himself disagreeable to his neighbours in the vestry-hall

the shafts of her sarcasm were thrown point-blank at him. He was good-tempered before the storm began, while it lasted, and when it was over. Mrs. Cockayne had the ingenuity to pretend that Cockayne was the veriest tyrant behind people's backs; he who, as a neighbour of his very expressively put the case, dared not help himself to the fresh butter without having previously asked the permission of his wife. Fate, in order to try the goo

own flesh and blood. They would go alone, and not trouble him, only what would their neighbours say to see them start off alone, as though they'd nobody in the world to care a fig about them. At any rate, they didn't want people to know they were neglected. Now Mr. Cockayne had never had the most distant idea of leaving the ladies of his family to go alone to Paris. But it pleased his wife to put the case in this pleasant way, and he never interfered with her pleasures. He wanted very much to see Paris again, for he had never been on the banks of the Seine since

n Lombard Street. Now Mr. Cockayne would as soon have thought of wearing that plaid shooting-suit and that grey flat cap down Cheapside or Cornhill, as he would have attempted to play at leap-frog in the underwriters' room at Lloyd's. He had a notion, however, that he had done the "correct thing" for foreign parts, and that he had made himself look as much a traveller as Livingstone or Burton. Some strange dreams in the matter of dress had possessed the mind of Mrs. Cockayne, and her daughters also. They were in varieties of drab coloured dresses and cloaks; and the mother and the three daughters, deeming bonnets, we suppose, to be eccentric head-gears in Paris, wore dark brown hats all of one pattern, all ornamented with voluminous blue veils, and all ready to Dantan's hand. The young ladies had, moreo

Y & T

severe Exc

Paris fatiguing because they walk about the streets all day, and

u talk about French politeness, Cockayne. I think I never saw people stare so much in the whole coarse of my life. And some boys in blue pinafo

ch, mamma; these pe

yne continued, "to jumble all

" Mr. Cockayne was

say the people jumble one word into another in the most ridiculous manner, and I suppose I have ears, and Sophy has ears,

her eyes from her boo

es, and those gigantic figures you admired so much were by Jean Goujon. Just think! It was in this hall that Henry I

hands, "and in that very room, I suppose, Miss Caroli

my dear?" Mr. Cockayne said, in

r. Cockayne-looking at the shops, and very much amused we have been, I can assure you,

ho was determined to remain in the very best of te

S DU

D TO TH

elightful day,"

been into twenty sh

g, after the boorish manners of your London shopkeepers, to be w

aid to her in the course of the da

o hear it," said

ppose, Mr. Cockayne! In London twenty comp

uch imitations! I'll defy Mrs. Sandhurst-and you know how ill-natured she is-to tell some earrings and brooches we saw from real gold and jewels. Well, what do you think was the si

saw his opportunity fo

of his right hand into the palm of his left, "by more than one ac

the marble table before her with

ve you ordered an

replied that he had secured places

pleasant irony she called her lord and master, that she had set her heart on

you call it, my dear?" s

iffening process which ladies of d

ou know that people don't joke with their wives; and I should think you ought t

he rapidly continued, in order to ward off the

gether. I saw myself some exquisite Greek compositions in the R

habitant, by the way you talk; or that I had stepped out of the Middle Ages; or that I and Sphinx were twins. But you must be so very clever, with

ly expostulated, "if it's not fa

ba and Theodosia in one breath. "Mi

DU LUX

down her back, observing by the way that she should like to box those impudent Frenchmen's ears who were lounging about the doorway, and who, she was sure, were l

" said the lady; "who would l

r. Cockayne, now a little gruffly, for

you mean. I don't think you

a Paix, where the lady had seen a brooch entirely to her mind. It was the lar

aid Mr. Cockayne. "We ought to

he learnt at school are two perfectly different things. So you may make up your mind that

ection, now the money's

ably, made a diplomatic bow to Mr. Cockayne and his wife. Cockayne, without ceremony, plunged in medias res. He wanted to look

e held the same opinion as her husband. She accordingly, on her side, made what observations she chose to address to the dignified jeweller in her loudest voice. The jeweller smiled good naturedly, and pattered his broken English in a subdued and deferential tone. As Mr. Cockayne found that he did not get on very well, or make his meaning as clear as crystal by bawling, and as he f

e going to buy all the

mbeth manners don't do

eth sovereigns, anyhow," wa

ike that, I'll leave the s

reminded her-off in triumph, having promised that delightful man, the jeweller, to return and have a look at the bracelets another day. She was

added. "I don't call all that

Grand H?tel, they found their daughters Sop

y the Louvre H?tel, where there was that deep blue moire you said you should so much like if you could afford it. Well, look here, there is a 'Grande Occ

rs. Cockayne asked. "What grand

sia murmured, "it means

age of lessons in French, at I don't know how many guineas a quarter; nor, I belie

e whole back sheet of the newspaper. "You never saw such bargains. The prices are positively ridiculous. There are silks, and laces, and muslins, and grenadines,

d bankrupt stock sales, like those we see in London, and the

eau down stairs, and she has told us that these 'Grandes Occasions' take place twice regularly every year

linos, 1000 "Jacquettes gentleman," 500 Zouaves, and 1000 dozen cravats-all at extraordinary low prices. Poor Jacques draws public attention to the "incomparable cheapness" of his immense operations: while Little St. Thomas declares that his assortment of goods is of "exceptional importance," and that he is selling his goods at a cheapness hors ligne. For a nation that has twitted the English with being a race of shop-keepers, our friends the Parisians who keep shops are not wanting in devotion to their own commercial interests. Indeed, there is a strong commercial sense in thousands of Parisians who have no shutters to take down. Take for instance the poetical M. Alphonse Karr, whos

ue of every bud that breaks within th

according to Mr. Tennyson, "a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast," and "young men's fan

moved the enthusiasm of her elder sisters. H

angement a

nse Karr

uet of Parma Violets, to every person who, before the end of March, shall become a subscriber to the monthly re

magnificent spring assor

e garden-twaddle, I call it-you used to think so very fine and poetic, is just

re, told me that when her sister was married, the bride and all the bridesmaids had Alphonse Karr's bouquets. It seems that the mercenary

your pet, sir, who was so fond of his beetles! Why, the man would sell

"But after all, why shouldn't he sell the flowers also

ut the grande occasion near the Louvre H?tel? I dare say it's a great deal more interesting than Mr. Karr and his violets. I ha

s; and you know, mamma, there was the linen-draper's with t

said Mrs. Cockayne, "'To the fine Eng

e! Just think what people would say, walking along Oxford Street, if they were to see

nothing to laugh at. She maintained th

at his wife, but at some much more ridicu

draper's called the 'Siege of Corinth?' o

ith cheap trowsers, Mr. Cockayne?" his wife interr

f Paris call their establis

ba observed, "as another cheap tailor's I have s

end Rhodes came back from Paris, and told me

ne!" scream

dear-I thought I should

ys about that magnificent shop under the Louvre

it would take me an hour to read

r daughters, "it would be positively

a had finished reading, and running his eye ov

hild, here are a number o

red, and ejacula

rnly; "and we'll go to-morrow, directly after breakfa

s forgotten. There are a lot of articles with lace and pen

arted to her fee

leave th

er of Mrs. Cockayne-"what a pity the Magasins de Louvre were not established at the time of the c