Down and Out in Paris and London

LIFE in the quarter. Our _bistro_, for instance, at the foot of the Hôtel des Trois Moineaux. A tiny brick-floored room, half underground, with wine-sodden tables, and a photograph of a funeral inscribed '_Crédit est mort_'; and red-sashed workmen carving sausage with big jack-knives; and Madame F., a splendid Auvergnat peasant woman with the face of a strong-minded cow, drinking Malaga all day 'for her stomach'; and games of dice for _apéritifs_; and songs about '_Les Fraises et Les Framboises_', and about Madelon, who said, '_Comment épouser un soldat, moi qui aime tout le régiment?_'; and extraordinarily public love-making. Half the hotel used to meet in the _bistro_ in the evenings. I wish one could find a pub in London a quarter as cheery.

One heard queer conversations in the _bistro_. As a sample I give you Charlie, one of the local curiosities, talking.