Paris

This his a Book of History. The book says founded on the cheap originality of playing with lugubrious ideas, of "making the Camarde laugh", of serving bocks to visitors seated on coffins instead of benches, in mortuary chapels hung in black, but the baseness of their wit was sufficiently demonstrated by the very first line of their programmes, announcing the price of a glass of beer in the most execrable and disgusting of puns. Other proprietors have had other and better inspirations. The Auberge du Clou, on the Avenue Trudaine near the Rue des Martyrs, is in imitation of the Breton cabarets, --the windows with small panes, curtained half-way up with white and red calico and protected by thick bars; a screech-owl with extended wings nailed up over the door, and the sign, an immense nail painted between two square and ancient lanterns. In the rustic interior, all the woodwork, ceiling, stairway, counter, tables, and chairs, are in a light-yellow wood, varnished and very clean; in the great fireplace, whole logs are burned in the winter, the dishes are in various-colored porcelains, and the wine, white or red, is served in earthenware.