Thank you for correcting the text in this article. Your corrections improve Papers Past searches for everyone. See the latest corrections.

This article contains searchable text which was automatically generated and may contain errors. Join the community and correct any errors you spot to help us improve Papers Past.

Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image

Ways of Living.

PROFESSIONS. f<M HE " ceEt legislation in Brittany wLty a ? d * be cl08j n? of the schools s3&s there have called attention to m$ 1 f5 e , nch schools generally. But •fSB^S* are leßa known to fame. -witri the one exception ot the Neapolitan, the Paris cabman is quite the worst driver in the world, and yet he i? m ? 1 °J& ?? e ' but B6veral schools, established for him in and outside Paris where he learns to hold the reins, to crack the whip, TO drive in and out of awkward situations, where the tubs represent the traffic. The camelots or street hawkers of Paris, who are celebrated for their wit and readiness the whole world over, have numerous schools of their own There is the School of the Trotters (the Trotters sell papers, picture postcards and toys) 1 the School of Articles of Paris, where the hawkers are taught to sell the puDlic a host of useless trifles for what they will fetch. In this school ready wit and quickness of repartee are the chief requisites, and it is most amusing to see the professor of repartee with his class around him. He takes up his position at a cafe table (tbe School of Articles of Paris is in a Ijttle safe near the Hallee), and his pupils try to sell him things. The old gentleman (a very ragged and trembly-banded old - gentleman is this professor) answers in monosyllables, assuming the air of boiedom of the boulevard habitue, the amused grin of the provincial, and the what-the-dickens-is-he-saying look of our compatriots, with great histrionic ability. ' No, no,' he cries, suddenly, ' that is not at all the way. See then, sit you down there and be yourself the gogo (the gogo is the customer), and I will show you.'

With extraordinary rapidity the old man reels off the advantages and beauties of the thing he has for sale, i It is, let us say, a little magnifying glass which ho describes. f

Before the astonished pupil, who for a few seconds at a time the professor assumes to be a possible purchaser—provincial, Paris dandy, Englishman or lady fair by turns—the old man reels iff a string of nonsense, which, nonsense though it is, is wonderfully witty. | Come how, Monsieur the English, buy this, and for fifty centimes you will see what we:, in Paris really think about the Boers. Come now, be useful to Monsieur Chamberlain. Is it not worth while for fifty centimes—fivepence ? Come, then, Mr. the Journalist, the news of the future for fifty centinrs seen through a crystal, which makes a newspaper column out of a line of telegram, is highly polished, mounted in tortoise shell and jewelled in every hole.'

After some ten minutes of example the pupil is get through his pacings again, and until he loj becomes an adept; and the price for an hour's hard work varies from 4d. to lOd. and a drink, and is well worth the money. The Trotters' School is presided over by no lobs j a person than the Emperor of the Camelots, Napoleon Hayard. As sooa as Hayard has a novelty—no article he sells costs' more than a halfpenny—he calls his pupils to him, and on the doorotep of his shop in the Kue du Croissant teaches them Low to sell goods. Hayard takes no fees for his teaching, finding his profit i nthe amount of articles the camelots sell.

The Singing School is not a polite assemblage of young men and maidens in a fashionable neighbourhood. It is tbe school where beggars learn the art of interesting the public in their imaginary woes, and extracting money from thorn; for, in French Blang, to make a person 'sing' means to blackmail or to extract money by pretence. This school is not very popular with the police, and has a way of moving its headquarters. The School for Song Sellers is a simpler thing, and the song purchaser is the real scholar. A gentleman appears from nowhere at a street corner, and begins to sing a popular song. He promptly attracts a crowd, distributes copies of the song, acd asks t* em to join in tbe chorus. One of the crowd, a confederate, hopelessly and horribly out of tune, and him the sieging-master tackles. In a. few minutos the voice of the uatuneful one is wonderfully improved, and it is p. rare thing If the toacher cannot get another 15 pupils round him, whom he teaches for l£d. each. At the end of the lesson, wbich is usually terminated by the appearance of the police, the teacher makes something extra by selling of the songs.

Numer< us other schools far mora respectable, but not perhaps more widely known, exist in Paris, such -as a school for confectioners, where charming young: women learn to'make bon-bons, and eveH a school for those who desire to irake a 'specialty of-cooking lobsters; but these scarcely come within the 'scope of this article.—' Daily Mail.'

Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/AHCOG19030423.2.50

Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 363, 23 April 1903, Page 7

Word count
Tapeke kupu
834

Ways of Living. Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 363, 23 April 1903, Page 7

Ways of Living. Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 363, 23 April 1903, Page 7

Help

Log in or create a Papers Past website account

Use your Papers Past website account to correct newspaper text.

By creating and using this account you agree to our terms of use.

Log in with RealMe®

If you’ve used a RealMe login somewhere else, you can use it here too. If you don’t already have a username and password, just click Log in and you can choose to create one.


Log in again to continue your work

Your session has expired.

Log in again with RealMe®


Alert