N N.
BEING A NOVEL IN THE FRENCH PARAGRAPHIC STYLE
—Mademoiselle, I swear to you that I love you.
—You who read these pages. You who turn your burning eyes upon these words—words that I trace—ah, heaven! the thought maddens me.
—I will be calm. I will imitate the reserve of the festive Englishman, who wears a spotted handkerchief which he calls a Belchio, who eats biftek, and caresses a bulldog. I will subdue myself like him.
—Ha! Poto-beer! All right—Goddam!
—Or, I will conduct myself as the free-born American—the gay Brother Jonathan. I will whittle me a stick. I will whistle to myself “Yankee Doodle,” and forget my passion in excessive expectoration.
—Ho! ho!—wake snakes and walk chalks.
The world is divided into two great divisions,—Paris and the provinces. There is but one Par
