FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.
September 16th.
Since I last wrote to you I have left that hotel,and come to live in a French family.It's a kind of boarding-house combined with a kind of school;only it's not like an American hoarding-house,nor like an American school either.There are four or five people here that have come to learn the language--not to take lessons,but to have an opportunity for conversation.I was very glad to come to such a place,for I had begun to realise that I was not making much progress with the French.It seemed to me that I should feel ashamed to have spent two months in Paris,and not to have acquired more insight into the language.I had always heard so much of French conversation,and I found I was having no more opportunity to practise it than if I had remained at Bangor.In fact,I used to hear a great deal more at Bangor,from those French Canadians that came down to cut the ice,than I saw I should ever hear at that hotel.The lady that kept the books seemed to want so much to talk to me in English (for the sake of practice,too,I suppose),that I couldn't bear to let her know I didn't like it.The chambermaid was Irish,and all the waiters were German,so that I never heard a word of French spoken.I suppose you might hear a great deal in the shops;only,as I don't buy anything--
I prefer to spend my money for purposes of culture--I don't have that advantage.
I have been thinking some of taking a teacher,but I am well acquainted with the grammar already,and teachers always keep you bothering over the verbs.I was a good deal troubled,for I felt as if I didn't want to go away without having,at least,got a general idea of French conversation.The theatre gives you a good deal of insight,and as I told you in my last,I go a good deal to places of amusement.I find no difficulty whatever in going to such places alone,and am always treated with the politeness which,as I told you before,I encounter everywhere.I see plenty of other ladies alone (mostly French),and they generally seem to be enjoying themselves as much as I.But at the theatre every one talks so fast that I can scarcely make out what they say;and,besides,there are a great many vulgar expressions which it is unnecessary to learn.But it was the theatre,nevertheless,that put me on the track.The very next day after I wrote to you last I went to the Palais Royal,which is one of the principal theatres in Paris.It is very small,but it is very celebrated,and in my guide-book it is marked with TWO STARS,which is a sign of importance attached only to FIRST-CLASS objects of interest.But after I had been there half an hour I found I couldn't understand a single word of the play,they gabbled it off so fast,and they made use of such peculiar expressions.I felt a good deal disappointed and troubled--I was afraid I shouldn't gain all I had come for.But while I was thinking it over--thinking what I SHOULD do--I heard two gentlemen talking behind me.It was between the acts,and I couldn't help listening to what they said.They were talking English,but I guess they were Americans.
"Well,"said one of them,"it all depends on what you are after.I'm French;that's what I'm after."
"Well,"said the other,"I'm after Art."
"Well,"said the first,"I'm after Art too;but I'm after French most."
Then,dear mother,I am sorry to say the second one swore a little.
He said,"Oh,damn French!"
"No,I won't damn French,"said his friend."I'll acquire it--that's what I'll do with it.I'll go right into a family."
"What family'll you go into?"
