Lehigh University
The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
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Text for Page 082 [06-12-1855]

tall cross is seen on one of the quays, many quaint old houses; and
pretty numerous and very picturesque crowd await our debarkation.
Every second man is a soldier, every soldier a little man with fierce
moustachios, a cocked hat, trousers resembling collapsed balloons,
and hands in pockets.     Fishermen, and fishwomen are there, the
former red capped, and highbooted, with sturdy or grizzled Gallic
phiziognomy, the latter with high white caps, shortish skirts, and
sometimes sabots, sometimes bare feet.     We are surrounded by an
atmosphere of French dialect, everybody talks and gesticulates. After
ten minutes row about a sixpenny swindle denominated �stewards fee�
(which we had to pay after taking its value out of the swindlers, in
revilement,) we go ashore, exhibit passport, and are cast forth into
a sea of excited French touters.     With a gentlemanly young Swiss,
(who has been our fellow voyager)  we proceed to the Railroad dep�t,
and learn that we have three hours at our own disposal.  Strolling
therefore about the old, old streets, with their queerly roofed houses,
over the cobble stones, we first look in at a Church wherein are
a number of girls and a priest performing service after a style im-
mediately reminding me of the Ojibwas at La Pointe, Lake Supe-
rior; and then to a handsome Caf�, fronting the quay.     Its
interior, with mirrors, little tables, and stylish fittings-up looked
very New Yorkish to my eyes; its waiter had his hair out in the
latest French style, � a la Lunatic Asylum.     A dame di comptoir
sat on a little dais, smiling affably on well-bearded and moustached
customers, who played cards or dominoes with the accompaniments of
caf� and petit verres of cognac.     Refreshing ourselves with the
same, we resumed our stroll, towards the extremity of a pier,               
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