"I indulge the pleasing hope that Mademoiselle may permit me to have the honour of calling on her."

"Monsieur confers a great honour on me, I shall have much pleasure in receiving his visit."

The horticulturist became completely enamoured; he redoubled his compliments, and eventually requested Mademoiselle to remain in care of his flowers whilst he procured some ice and other delicacies for her refection. When he returned, Rose had disappeared, and with her his magnificent orchis had departed. The plant remained, but the stem was severed near the root, and the display of its loveliness was adjourned for at least twelve months. Furiously indignant, he denounced the pretty Rose as a thief. Proceeding quickly to the Rue d'Amsterdam, he found that the numbers of the houses stopped short by one of the number mentioned by her. He was despoiled, and had no available remedy. Towards the close of the next day, he was contemplating his stand, lamenting the loss of its greatest attraction, and recounting to his sympathising friends the circumstances of the spoliation, when a box and a note were delivered to him by a porter, who had been employed to convey them from a neighbouring street. The note was as follows:—

"Monsieur,

"You displayed too great a temptation to an ardent admirer of beautiful flowers. From the moment I beheld your orchis I determined that its artificial reproduction should not fall to the lot of any rival artiste. In the accompanying box you may behold your flower; and if you place it upon the stem, it will not wither for a considerable time. Receive, Monsieur, the assurance of my lasting respect and gratitude.

"Rose."

The box contained an artificial orchis, so exactly resembling the stolen flower, that it would deceive the closest observer. It was placed upon the stand, and passed off admirably. The fair delinquent was not detected—indeed the search for her was not rigorously pursued—but copies of the abstracted orchis gained a general and deserved pre-eminence amongst the artificial flowers which graced the fashionable female dresses of the succeeding season.

FRENCH WIT.

Some of the lighter literary productions of the French press afford to a reader abundant instances of pithy and witty expressions. A stranger who has not been habituated to the language, and accustomed to think in it as well as to speak it, will be very likely to allow many sparkles of conversational wit to escape his notice, and may consequently impute more dullness to the social circle in which he mingles than he is justified in ascribing. I am sure that many ebullitions of genius totally escaped my observation, but I recollect an expression addressed to me by a cab-driver which I cannot omit relating. I had walked down the Rue St. Florentine towards the Place de la Concorde, when in turning the corner at which I had arrived, the driver accidentally let his whip fall. It lay just at my feet, I took it up and handed it to the owner, who respectfully touched his hat and said, "I thank you, sir; I hope that whenever misfortune (malheur) meets you, he'll lose his whip."

FRENCH SILVER.

I often thought, during my Parisian sojourn, that the instability of human dynasties was strongly evidenced by a handful of French silver, a coinage which has been left to public currency from the end of the last century. I met with coins of the old Republic, of Bonaparte, First Consul; Napoleon, Emperor; Louis XVIII., Charles X., Louis Philippe, the French Republics again, and Napoleon III. The silver coins of the Republic immediately preceding the last empire, have on the obverse, "Liberté. Egalité. Fraternité." I remarked to a shopkeeper in the Rue de Bac, that it was very strange the Imperial government left the coin of the Republic still in circulation. He took up a five-franc piece, and said, "Liberté point. Egalité point. Fraternité point." The forcible wit of his expression consisted in the double meaning which may be assigned to "point." It signifies a full stop or period, but taken as an adverb, it may be understood to denote "Liberty, not at all; Equality, not at all; Fraternity, not at all."

THE HOTEL DES INVALIDES.