But Chicago, I’m afraid, can’t provide half as much sidewalk entertainment as Paris. As I remember the metropolis of Illinois, there is a sad lack there of demonstrative affection on the streets. In fact, I fear that a lady and gentleman who kissed each other repeatedly at the corner of Madison and Dearborn would be given a free ride to Central Station and a few days in which to cool off. Such an osculatory duel on Paris’s Grand Boulevard—also known by a dozen other names—goes practically unnoticed except by us Illinois hicks.
Only a few were thoughtless enough not to stop and kiss a few times in full view of our table
An American officer and I—at the former’s expense—lunched sur curb to-day. The food was nothing to boast about, but we got an eyeful of scenery. Soldiers—French, British and American—strolled by constantly, accompanied by more or less beautiful brunettes, and only a few were thoughtless enough not to stop and kiss a few times in full view of our table. We also observed the inmates of passing taxis. No matter how wide the back seat, the lady occupant invariably sat on her escort’s lap. A five-passenger car in America is a ten-passenger car in Paris, provided the chauffeur has a girl of his own.
When the American officer was tired of buying, I left him and sought out the Chicago Tribune office, conveniently located above Maxim’s. The editor was there, but he was also broke, so I went back to the Ritz and got ready for bed.
The express office will be open to-morrow and I will be a rich man.
Lundi, 20 Août. Paris.
Went down to the express office and cashed a large part of my order. Friends were with me, and they immediately relieved me of most of the burden. I was hungry for lunch, having had no breakfast. Meat was what I wanted, and meat was what I couldn’t get. Which led me to inquire into the Rules de la vie of Paris.
1. Monday and Tuesday are meatless days.
2. All except Saturday and Sunday are heatless days. Hot baths are impossible on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays.